#bound by blood anthology

[fangdokja]

🔞Run all you want, little omega—I love the chase.

❤︎ Synopsis. Bound by fear and desire, an omega finds herself ensnared by a cruel, possessive alpha who thrives on her pain and submission, claiming her body and soul as his own. As she struggles to escape his grasp, she learns that freedom may come at a price too terrifying to pay.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Alpha! Wolf Hybrid x Fem. Reader

♡ Novelette. #1 - Marked and Mated

♡ Word Count. 10,767

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, rape, blood play, overstimulation, forced oral, prey x predator dynamic, fear play, hunting play, permanent bodily injury, slut shaming, objectification, psychological torment, erotic horror elements, loss of virginity, mature language, fingering, humiliation, degradation, forced orgasms, sadism, BDSM, groping, omegaverse dynamics, biting, physical assault and violence, choking / breath play

The forest is alive with the whispers of fear. Your breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts, each one slicing through the silence as you sprint through the thick underbrush. The fading light casts skeletal shadows across the forest floor, turning every twisted branch into a claw and every rustling leaf into the promise of something far worse. Your heartbeat is a wild drum, a desperate cadence that seems to echo the heavy footsteps closing in behind you.

“You can’t hide from me, little omega.” His voice rumbles like thunder through the twilight, a low, predatory growl that seems to wrap around you, suffocating and inescapable.

You don’t look back. You’ve learned by now that it’s a mistake to give him the satisfaction of seeing your terror. Instead, you focus on the path ahead—or what little you can see of it. The forest is dense here, the trees towering and gnarled, their roots eager to snare your stumbling feet. You’ve always prided yourself on your strength, your defiance, your ability to stand tall even when the world tried to bend you. But now, as the alpha’s guttural laugh reverberates through the trees, you feel the first cracks in your resolve.

“Oh, I’ll give you credit for trying,” he purrs, his amusement curling through the air like smoke. “But we both know how this ends, don’t we?”

You grit your teeth, pushing harder, your muscles screaming in protest. You’ve never been one to back down, not even when he first set his sights on you. The cat and the wolf, they’d said. A pairing as impossible as it was inevitable. And yet, here you are, the prey in a hunt you can’t seem to win.

He’s always known what you are beneath the mask. An omega masquerading as an alpha, a fragile shell of dominance that he’d seen through from the very beginning. It’s not your fault, really. Survival demanded the façade. But survival is a cruel master, and it’s brought you to him. The predator who doesn’t just want to unmask you but to rip you apart, piece by trembling piece, until there’s nothing left but the shattered remains of your pride.

The sound of snapping branches draws closer, and you know he’s toying with you now. Letting you think you have a chance, letting you run just far enough to taste freedom before he rips it away. The ground beneath you is uneven, littered with roots and fallen leaves that threaten to trip you with every step. The forest seems to close in, the trees looming, their twisted limbs reaching for you like greedy hands.

“Run,” he commands, his voice a cruel whisper that somehow slices through the cacophony of your pounding heart and ragged breath. “Run faster, little omega. Make it fun for me.”

Your lungs burn, your legs ache, but you don’t stop. You can’t. The thought of what awaits you if he catches you… no, when he catches you… is too much to bear. His scent lingers in the air, sharp and musky, an oppressive reminder that no matter how far you go, he’s always there. Watching. Waiting. Hunting.

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The chase is relentless, and despite your efforts, you feel his breath hot on your neck, his large hands almost grabbing hold of your tail. Panic flutters in your chest, and you know that if he catches you, there's no telling what he'll do. The trees blur together as you sprint, your sides burning with exertion.

You spot a small clearing up ahead, and you make a desperate dash for it, hoping for a moment's respite.

But as you leap into the open, you realize your mistake too late.

The clearing is a trap, surrounded by thorny bushes and a steep ravine, leaving you no escape.

He emerges from the shadows, his teeth bared in a vicious smile. "Looks like you're mine now, omega," he sneers, his eyes flashing with triumph. Your stomach turns to lead as you realize you're cornered, the predator closing in for the kill.

"No, please," you whimper, your voice cracking with fear as he prowls closer.

He stops a few feet away, his towering form casting a long shadow over you. "You know what you need," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You need a strong alpha to show you your place."

You grit your teeth, refusing to give in to his taunts, your eyes flashing with defiance.

But his scent is overwhelming, a potent mix of musk and power that sends a thrill through your body despite your fear.

"I'll never be your omega," you spit out, your voice stronger than you feel.

He laughs, a cold, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "We'll see about that."

As you remain defiant, your eyes never leaving his, the alpha wolf's smile only widens. He seems to enjoy the challenge, his eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement.

He takes a step closer, and you react instinctively, lashing out with your claws and teeth. You manage to scratch his muscular arm with your claws, drawing a thin line of crimson against his otherwise perfect skin.

He grunts in surprise, but instead of retreating, his eyes light up with a predatory thrill. "So you want to play hard to get, huh?" He says, his voice thick with amusement. "Fine, I can do that."

With a sudden burst of speed, he lunges at you, his powerful jaws snapping shut around your neck.

You yelp in pain and surprise as his teeth dig in, the pressure enough to make you dizzy but not enough to break the skin. He lifts you off the ground, your legs kicking wildly in the air. His grip tightens, and you feel the world start to spin around you.

"Struggle all you want, it'll only make it better," he whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending waves of fear and disgust through your body. You thrash in his grip, trying to break free, but his strength is overwhelming.

His teeth clamp down harder, a clear warning of what's to come if you don't submit. You can feel your energy waning, the fear and pain making it difficult to keep fighting.

He drags you through the thorny bushes, tearing at your clothes and skin. The pain is intense, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing you scream. He tosses you onto the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of you.

Before you can recover, he's on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you down. His clawed hands rip away the remnants of your shirt, exposing your bruised and bleeding skin to the cool night air, as you thrash and squirm in response.

The alpha wolf's grin widens as you fight back with renewed vigor, his eyes gleaming with excitement at your resistance. He grabs your wrists in his massive hands, pinning them to the ground above your head with surprising gentleness.

"Oh, you're going to be so much fun to break," he murmurs, his tongue flicking out to taste the blood that trickles from the scratches you've managed to inflict. His weight shifts, pressing his thick erection against your pelvis, and you can feel the heat radiating from it even through your torn pants.

With a quick, efficient movement, he rips your pants away, exposing your vulnerable, untouched sex to his hungry gaze. You try to buck him off, but his grip on your wrists is unyielding. "Don't worry, bitch," he purrs, "I'll make sure you enjoy this. Eventually."

His other hand moves down your body, his claws tracing the lines of your ribs and stomach with feather-light precision, sending shivers of fear and unwanted arousal through you.

Your hiss pierces the night air, a mix of anger and fear, as you furiously claw at the hybrid wolf's chest. Your nails dig into his flesh, leaving shallow trails of blood behind.

He snarls, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly, but instead of retaliating, he seems to be getting more and more turned on by your resistance. "Such a feisty little omega," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with lust. "But we both know who's in control here."

Ignoring your futile struggles, he lowers his head and runs his tongue along the column of your throat, savoring your taste. You try to turn away, but his jaw clamps down on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you whimper. He releases your neck, his eyes locking onto yours. "You're mine now," he growls, "And I'll have every part of you."

“I have a mate already!” You scream a panicked lie, remaining defiant.

He laughs, a dark, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "A mate?" He repeats, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly.

"You think that means anything to me? I'm going to fuck you until you forget his scent, until you're begging for me to knot you." With those words, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a brutal, claiming kiss. His tongue forces its way past your teeth, tasting the sweetness of your fear and the metallic tang of your blood.

You try to bite him, but he anticipates your move, his teeth clamping down on your lower lip, drawing more blood. He pulls back, his eyes gleaming with victory. "You're mine, omega," he whispers, his breath hot against your face.

With a sudden, brutal yank, he pulls you closer, his erection now pressing painfully against your stomach. His hand moves between your legs, his claws digging into your tender flesh as he rips away the last of your clothing.

You scream into the night, the sound piercing and desperate, but it's swallowed by the forest's indifferent embrace. The cold ground beneath you is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your desperate fight against his overwhelming strength is met with a sadistic chuckle as the hybrid wolf seems to take pleasure in your futile struggles. He pins your arms above your head with one paw, his other hand moving to your breasts.

He squeezes them roughly, eliciting a gasp of pain that turns into a whine when his claws dig in slightly. "You're so delicate," he says, his voice a mix of mockery and lust. "So easily broken."

You manage to free one arm and deliver a weak punch to his jaw, but it barely phases him. He just laughs and captures your wrist again, his grip like iron. "That's the spirit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"But it's not going to save you." His clawed hand slides down your body, teasing over your stomach and finally coming to rest between your legs. You try to clench your thighs together, but his weight makes it impossible.

"Open up," he commands, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You know what I want."

As you refuse to give in to his demand, the alpha hybrid wolf's eyes flash with anger and arousal. He leans down, his teeth bared, and sinks them into your inner thigh, biting as hard as he can.

You scream out in pain, the sound piercing the quiet forest night. Your body arches off the ground, your legs instinctively trying to close, but his weight holds you down firmly. His bite is deep, and you can feel the warmth of your blood trickling down your thigh, mixing with the scent of your fear and his own lust.

He releases your wrists for a moment, only to grab your legs and force them apart with his powerful hands. You kick and struggle, but it's useless. His teeth dig in deeper, the pain unbearable, and your body responds despite your mind's protest.

The hybrid wolf's teeth tear into your sensitive flesh as he forcefully spreads your legs apart, the pain from his bite making your body tense.

He doesn't give you a chance to recover as he dives between your thighs, his hot, wet tongue sliding over your clit with a brutal lack of finesse.

You try to clench your muscles to avoid his assault, but the pain and fear make it impossible to maintain. He laps at you harshly, his tongue rough and uncaring as he tastes your resistance. You can feel the beginnings of an unwelcome arousal building within you, despite the agony of his bite marks in your thigh.

He smirks at your involuntary reaction, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he sees the beginnings of arousal shimmering in your gaze despite your pain. He knows he's getting to you, and it only makes him more determined to claim what he sees as his.

His tongue swirls around your clit, the roughness of his licks sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through your body. You try to pull away, but his teeth dig into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, holding you in place as he continues to ravage your pussy.

As he fucks you with his tongue and teeth, your body betrays you. Your hips begin to buck against his mouth, your moans and screams growing louder despite your attempts to stifle them.

Your nails dig into the dirt, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure-pain overwhelms you. His teeth graze your clit, and you feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of unwanted ecstasy that you can't escape from.

He pulls away from your throbbing clit, panting heavily, his tongue and teeth coated with your juices. "You're so fucking delicious," he says, his voice thick with lust.

He grabs your face with one hand, his claws digging into your cheeks painfully as he forces your eyes to meet his. "Admit it, omega. You want this just as much as I do."

“N-No…!!!” You stutter out in defiance.

The hybrid wolf's grin turns feral at your continued defiance. He loves the taste of your fear and your unwilling arousal, and your refusal to submit only makes him hungrier.

He dives back between your legs, his teeth and tongue attacking your clit with renewed vigor. You try to turn your face away, biting your lip to keep from moaning, but the pressure is too much. His claws dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you in place as he licks and bites with a primal hunger.

"You can't hide it," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "Your body betrays you."

With a vicious swipe of his tongue, he sends you spiraling over the edge, your body shuddering with an unwanted climax.

The pleasure is intense, as you moan unwittingly loudly, but the humiliation is even stronger.

Tears stream down your cheeks as he laps up your essence, his eyes never leaving yours. "Mmm," he hums, savoring the taste. "You're going to fucking scream for me soon enough."

As the hybrid wolf's tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit, you feel your body responding in ways you never wanted. Your pussy clenches around his tongue, and your hips buck involuntarily as you try to push him away.

But every move you make seems to only excite him more, his licks growing more demanding, his teeth grazing you in a way that's both painful and exhilarating.

Despite your mental resistance, your body is succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure, your walls tightening around his tongue as if begging for more.

You can't help but moan, the sound ripped from your throat as you feel another orgasm building. The alpha wolf's eyes gleam with victory as he sees the effect he's having on you, and he doubles down, his tongue fucking you with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

You're so close, so close, and you hate yourself for it. "N-no," you murmur, your voice weak and trembling. "Please, stop."

He chuckles darkly, the vibration of his mirth sending more waves of pleasure through your body. "You don't mean that," he says, his breath hot against your swollen, sensitive folds.

"You're just saying that because you don't want to admit how much you crave it." With a final, brutal swipe of his tongue, you cum again jolting and moaning helplessly; before he pulls away abruptly, leaving you gasping and shaking with need.

The hybrid wolf can't help but growl in approval at your body's betrayal, his eyes locked on the glistening wetness of your pussy, now quivering and begging for his touch. He licks his lips, savoring the sweet, musky taste of your arousal.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust, "Fucking squirting all over me like a good breeding bitch." His eyes darken with possession as he takes in your flushed cheeks and the desperate look in your eyes.

He knows you're close to breaking, and that's just how he loves it.

With a smug grin, he shifts his weight, releasing your legs from his vice-like grip. You try to scurry away, but he's too quick, grabbing you by the ankles and dragging you back towards him.

He flips you onto your stomach, your bruised and scratched body now exposed to the damp, cold earth. "You're going to take me now," he says, his voice a mix of command and promise. "And you're going to love it."

“N-No! Stop! Please!” You scream weakly, fighting back desperately and defiantly.

Your weak screams of protest fall on his deaf ears as the alpha wolf forced you onto your stomach, his strong arms easily overpowering your feeble attempts to escape. The cold, damp earth presses against your skin, making you feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

He straddles you, his heavy bodyweight a stark reminder of his dominance and your helplessness. The sound of him unbuckling his pants is a harsh, jolting reality check, and your heart races as you feel the hot, thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

Your squirming and desperate attempts to fight him off only seem to excite the hybrid wolf more. He uses his powerful thighs to spread your legs apart, his cock sliding against your wet, trembling pussy.

Despite your fear, your body is betraying you, lubricating his shaft with your unwilling arousal. His grip on your ankles tightens as he leans over you, his massive body casting a shadow over yours. You can feel his breath against your neck, hot and ragged, as he whispers, "You're going to take all of me, little omega. Every damn inch."

He pushes forward, the head of his cock breaching your tight entrance.

You scream, the pain searing through you like a knife, your nails digging into the soil as you try to find stabilization. "Fuck," he groans, his voice strained with effort. "You're so tight, so fucking tight."

He doesn't pause, continuing to thrust into you, each movement driving the air from your lungs and sending shockwaves of agony through your body. The hybrid wolf's cock stretches you open, the pain of your hymen tearing a white-hot brand across your consciousness. You feel your body clench around him, desperately trying to push him out, but he's unrelenting.

With a savage grin, he slams into you, burying his cock to the hilt with a roar of triumph. The force of his thrusts sends shockwaves of agony through you, and you can't help but sob into the dirt.

Your vision blurs, the world narrowing down to the searing pain between your legs.

"You're mine now," he growls, his teeth nipping at your neck. "You're going to be my good little omega, aren't you?" His grip on your ankles tightens, his nails digging in as he pulls back and slams into you again.

Each thrust feels like a declaration of ownership, a claim that you can't escape.

You can feel your insides stretching to accommodate his monstrous length, your body trying to adjust to the brutal intrusion. Your breath hitches as he hits a spot deep within you, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain that makes you cry out.

You try to push up onto your hands, but the pain is too much, and you collapse back onto the ground. His hips rock against yours, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the clearing.

The smell of your blood and arousal fills the air, a potent mix that seems to drive him even wilder. "You're going to love being my omega," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to love the way I fuck you, the way I fill you up with my cum."

The alpha wolf's massive cock continues to pound into you without mercy, your body jolting with every brutal thrust. You can feel him stretching you to your limits, filling you completely and claiming you in the most primal of ways.

His hips slap against your bruised flesh, the sound echoing through the night like a twisted mating call.

He's not just fucking you; he's marking you, branding you as his property.

Your own desperate cries are muffled by the dirt as you try to scream through the pain, your voice hoarse from the effort.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice a deep growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Fucking MINE." He bites down hard on the back of your neck, his teeth piercing the tender skin.

You can feel the warmth of your own blood mixing with the sticky sweat coating your body.

It's a claim, a promise of what's to come.

The pain is so intense that it's almost a relief when the initial agony of your lost virginity fades into a dull, persistent throb.

He's not gentle, not even a little.

His thrusts are deep and powerful, a relentless battering ram against your slick, abused walls. You're not sure if you're crying or if it's just the sweat and tears mixing on your face, but you know you can't keep fighting.

Your body feels like it's being torn apart, and every time he hits that spot deep inside you, you feel a strange mix of pain and something else… something that you hate admitting could be pleasure.

"P-Please," you manage to gasp out, your voice a broken whisper. "P-Please, it h-hurts."

He laughs darkly, his breath hot against your neck. "Good," he says, his hips moving faster. "It's supposed to fucking hurt. It's supposed to remind you of who's in charge."

His teeth graze your skin, and you can feel his knot swelling at the base of his cock, preparing to claim you in the most primal way possible.

As you lay there, sobbing into the cold, unforgiving earth, the hybrid wolf's hips piston into you without mercy. His teeth are still latched onto the back of your neck, his knot swelling with every brutal thrust. You feel his dominance in every inch of your being, a stark, painful reminder that you are utterly at his mercy.

Your body shakes with the effort to withstand his relentless assault, each thrust driving his knot further into you, stretching you to the point of agony.

The alpha wolf's knot swells further, reaching its full size, and lodges itself inside you, effectively trapping him within your body.

You feel a new level of fullness, a pressure that makes you gasp and whine, your body trying to reject the unyielding intrusion.

His movements become more erratic, his growls deeper as he starts to lose control, his hips slamming into you without rhythm or care. "Take it," he snarls, his voice a feral rumble. "Take every fucking inch."

Your own voice is lost in a sob as you feel his knot expanding even further, the pain a white-hot brand across your consciousness.

Your body tenses around him, trying to force him out, but it's a futile effort.

His grip on your ankles tightens, his nails digging deeper into your flesh as he starts to fuck you harder, his knot moving within you, the sensation a mix of agony and something else. Something that makes your body respond despite your mind's screaming protests.

"You're mine," he says again, his voice a harsh growl. "My omega, my wife." His thrusts become erratic, his breaths coming in pants as he starts to lose control.

You can feel the warmth of his seed building, his cock pulsing within you. "You're going to take it," he says, his teeth pressing down on your neck. "You're going to take every drop of my cum, and you're going to love it."

You whimper, your body trembling under the onslaught of pain and unwanted pleasure. The knot inside you is unbearable, stretching you further than you ever thought possible. You can't move, can't do anything but endure as he takes his fill of you, your body his plaything.

His hips slam into your bruised ass, the force of his thrusts making you see stars. "Yes," he hisses, his grip on your ankles tightening. "You're going to milk me dry."

You feel his knot swell even more, the pressure unbearable, and you know what's coming. He's going to fill you with his cum, claiming you in the most primal, irrevocable way. You try to fight, to push him away, but your body is too weak, too used.

Your sobs become screams as he starts to cum, his hot seed flooding your insides, filling you up until you can't take it anymore. His teeth dig into your neck, holding you in place as he marks you, his orgasm a violent, possessive act that leaves you shaking.

The alpha wolf's hips slow, his cock still pulsing inside you. He pulls out slightly, only to push back in, his knot keeping him connected to you.

The feeling is agonizing, but you can't help the way your body responds, your pussy clenching around him, milking him dry. He groans with pleasure, his hips bucking against you as he empties himself into you. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice a dark, sated growl. "Good little omega."

As he cums, you feel something within you shift. The pain is still there, but it's overlaid with a strange, primal need.

Your body seems to crave his seed, your walls tightening around him as if trying to keep him inside you.

It's as if your body knows what he's done, that he's marked you as his, and it's trying to accept it, to submit to his dominance.

You hate yourself for it, but the feeling is undeniable.

He pulls out of you with a wet pop, his knot shrinking until it's no longer lodged inside you. You collapse onto the ground, your body trembling with exhaustion and the aftershocks of your forced climax.

The alpha wolf stands over you, his cock still hard and gleaming with your blood and combined juices. He licks his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. "Look at the mess you've made," he says, his voice filled with dark amusement. "You're going to clean me up, aren't you?"

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But, then the alpha wolf's eyes narrow as he watches you pathetically try to crawl away, your body trembling from the intense pain and pleasure of his rough claiming.

His patience wears thin at your continuous refusal to submit, his lip curling in a snarl.

He strides towards you, his massive form casting a shadow that makes you feel even smaller and more vulnerable.

You try to scuttle away faster, your legs shaking with the effort, but your weakened state only makes your escape attempts more pitiful.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snarls, his voice a low, menacing rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

He grabs you by the scruff of your neck, his grip firm yet gentle in comparison to his earlier brutality. "You're mine now, little omega. There's no running from that."

His eyes are filled with a mix of anger and hurt, his pupils dilated with desire. He shakes his head, the disappointment in his gaze almost as painful as his earlier bites. "I didn't expect you to be this stubborn," he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. Your body aches from his rough handling, but a part of you can't deny the strange, dark thrill that runs through you at his words.

"Please," you croak out, your voice hoarse from your earlier screams. "Let me go."

He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a predatory gaze. "Why should I?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

"You're mine now. You've felt what I can do to you. Why would you want to leave?" He runs a claw lightly down your spine, the threat implicit in the gesture. You shiver, your body responding despite your fear.

"I don't…I don't want this," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Please, let me go."

The alpha hybrid wolf's grip on your neck tightens for a brief moment before releasing you entirely. He steps back, watching you with a cold, calculating gaze. "You think you can just walk away?" he sneers.

"You're mine now. You're going to bear my pups, and you're going to do it willingly." His eyes flash with a dangerous intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "If you keep fighting me, I'll just have to get more creative with your punishments."

You manage to push yourself onto your hands and knees, your body still shaking from the overwhelming pain and humiliation.

You spit dirt out of your mouth and look up at him, your true inner will finally bursting out in frustration, your eyes full of defiance despite the tears that stain your cheeks. "I'll never be yours, you damn bastard rapist," you hiss through gritted teeth. "Never."

The hybrid wolf's expression darkens, his eyes narrowing to slits. "We'll see about that," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

He takes a step closer, and you can't help but flinch, your body instinctively remembering the pain he's capable of inflicting. "You're going to learn your place, little omega. And when you do, you'll beg for my cock."

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As you manage to stumble to your feet, the alpha wolf watches you with a predatory gaze, his eyes tracking your every movement. He seems to revel in the power he holds over you, his chest heaving with each breath as if your fear and pain are a sweet scent that fuels his arousal.

With a wicked smile, he steps aside, allowing you to run, his tail flicking in anticipation of the chase.

The alpha wolf's smile widens into a full-blown grin as he watches you limp away, your bruised and bloodied body a testament to his dominance. "Run, little omega," he says, his voice a dark promise. "But remember, I'll be waiting for you. And when I catch you again, I'll fuck you until you can't ever fucking walk again."

You stumble through the underbrush, the pain of his knotting still resonating through your body.

You're not sure how much more of this you can take, but you know you can't just give up. You have to find a way out of this nightmare, a way to escape him and his twisted games.

The forest blurs around you, the pain and fear clouding your vision. You don't know where you're going, only that you have to get away.

The hybrid wolf watches you go, his smile never leaving his face. He knows you won't get far, not in your current state. He's toyed with you enough to know your limits, to know how much you can handle before you break.

But he also knows that the chase is part of the thrill, the anticipation of the hunt making the eventual capture all the more satisfying.

He lets you run, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic glee as he watches the desperation in your movements.

You stumble through the underbrush, your legs wobbly from the rough treatment he's just given you. You're not a fast runner, not with the pain radiating from your torn hymen and the heavy weight of his cum filling you.

But you force yourself to go on, driven by a primal need to escape the monster that's claimed you.

Twigs snap beneath your feet, leaves crunching as you push yourself harder, ignoring the sting of your bruised flesh against the rough ground.

Behind you, the alpha wolf laughs, the sound echoing through the trees like a dark promise.

You know he's not really letting you go; he's just enjoying the thrill of the chase.

His powerful form moves with an eerie grace, his eyes locked on yours, a twisted smile playing across his face. The thought of what he'll do to you when he catches you sends a fresh wave of terror through your body, and you push yourself to go faster.

You stumble through the forest, the pain in your legs growing with each step. Your heart races in your chest, the fear of his pursuit driving you forward even as your body screams for rest.

The moon casts a silver glow through the canopy, lighting your path but also making you feel more exposed.

You can hear the rustle of leaves as he stalks you, his movements deliberate and calculated.

He's enjoying this, you realize with a sickening feeling in your stomach.

He's enjoying making you run.

The alpha hybrid wolf's laughter echoes through the trees, a taunting, predatory sound that sends a chill down your spine. "You can't escape me, little omega," he calls out, his voice deep and resonant. "Wherever you go, I'll find you."

The words are a promise, one that fills you with dread. You know he's not lying; he's a creature of the hunt, and you're his prey.

You push yourself harder, your lungs burning and your legs aching. Your senses are heightened, every sound in the forest a potential threat.

You can feel his presence behind you, a looming shadow that seems to grow closer with each passing second. "Faster," he says, his voice a whisper in the wind. "Or I'll just have to drag you back, kicking and screaming."

You whip around, your eyes wild with fear. The hybrid wolf is closer than you thought, his teeth bared in a feral smile.

You can see the hunger in his gaze, the need to claim and possess you. "You can't do this," you choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I won't be your omega, I won't let you do this to me."

"You don't have a choice," he says, his voice cold and final. He stalks closer, his eyes gleaming with a dark light that makes your heart race. "You're mine now, and I'll fuck you whenever I want. And you’ll just have to damn well take it, you stubborn bitch.”

His words are a promise, one that sends a shiver of dread through your body.

You stumble back, trying to put more distance between you, but your legs are wobbly, your body still reeling from his earlier assault.

He doesn't give you the chance to run again.

With a snarl, he lunges, his powerful body moving with the grace of a predator.

You scream, your voice raw from your earlier cries, and try to dart away, but he's too fast. His massive hands land on your shoulders, pushing you to the ground. "Struggle all you want," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "It'll just make it better."

You squirm beneath him, your body slick with sweat and tears. His weight is a crushing presence, a reminder of the brutal reality of your situation. "Please," you whimper, your voice shaking. "P-Please stop, no more, p-please."

The alpha hybrid wolf chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your ear. "What's the matter, little omega?" he asks, his voice mocking.

"Can't handle your new life?" His claws dig into your shoulders, his grip unyielding. "You should have thought of that before you decided to play hard to get."

You try to buck him off, to kick and claw, but your body feels like it's made of lead, and his weight is too much for you to bear.

You feel his cock, still hard and slick with your blood and cum, pressing against your thigh, a constant reminder of his dominance. "Get off me," you snarl weakly, trying to push him away. "I'm not your plaything."

He laughs, the sound a low, dark rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "Oh, but you are," he says, his voice dripping with malice. "And I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

His teeth graze the shell of your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your fear. "You're going to beg for it, you know," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to beg for me to fill you up and make you scream my name."

You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the unwelcome spark of arousal his words stir in you. "Never," you spit out, your voice laced with defiance.

The alpha wolf's eyes flash with anger, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "We'll see about that," he growls, his teeth grazing your neck as he pins you down.

You can feel his cock, still rock-hard and slick with your blood and cum, pressing insistently against your thigh. His knot starts to swell again, a sign that he's not yet done with you.

"No," you whimper, your voice shaking with fear and exhaustion. "I won't let you."

His teeth find your neck again, and you feel the sharp pain as he bites down, claiming you once more with a possessive growl. Your body tenses, your weak struggles doing nothing to deter him as he lines his thick, swollen cock up with your sore, bloodied entrance.

You can feel the beginnings of his knot swelling at the base, the promise of another agonizing mating session that you know you won't be able to resist.

Your weakened attempts to fight back only seem to excite the alpha hybrid wolf more, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and lust. His teeth sink deeper into your neck, holding you in place as he starts to push his cock inside you again.

You feel the pressure building as his knot swells, the pain of his previous claim still fresh in your mind. You try to buck your hips, to twist away from him, but his weight and strength are too much.

The hybrid wolf's response to your increased struggle is to kiss you hard and without mercy, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he takes your mouth in a punishing, possessive kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting your fear and the coppery tang of your blood, a flavor that only seems to inflame his desire further.

His kiss is a claim of ownership, a declaration that you belong to him and no other.

You feel his cock, still slick with the evidence of his previous claim, push against your entrance, the swollen knot at its base a constant, painful reminder of the fate that awaits you.

You try to bite his tongue, to push him away with every ounce of strength you have left, but it's like trying to fight a hurricane with a single leaf. He's unyielding, his mouth moving over yours in a violent dance that leaves you breathless and dizzy.

His grip on your shoulders tightens, his hands digging into your flesh as he uses his superior strength to hold you in place.

You feel the tip of his cock breach you once again, the pain sharp and immediate, making you cry out against his mouth.

The alpha wolf's kiss is brutal, his teeth scraping against your lips as he takes what he wants without regard for your protests. His tongue fills your mouth, tasting the desperation and the faint sweetness of your fear.

His cock slams into you, the swollen knot at the base stretching you wider than you ever thought possible, making you scream into his mouth. Your body fights against his intrusion, your muscles clenching around his thick length as you try to push him out, but his strength is overwhelming.

He pulls away, panting heavily, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're going to learn to love it," he says, his voice a low growl. "You're going to crave the feel of me inside you, marking you, claiming you."

He pushes into you again, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that makes you cry out with every thrust. You can feel his knot swelling, the pressure unbearable as he forces his way deeper and deeper.

You thrash beneath him, your nails digging into the dirt as you try to find anything to help you, to push him away. But his weight is too much, his strength too overwhelming. "Stop," you gasp, your voice breaking on the word. "Please, stop!"

He chuckles darkly, his breath hot on your face. "You're so pathetic," he sneers, his thrusts becoming more punishing. "Begging for it already."

The alpha wolf's cruel chuckle fills the air as he drives into you, his knot stretching you to the limits of endurance.

Despite the pain, your body starts to betray you again, responding to his rough treatment with unwanted arousal.

Each punishing thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through your abused body, and you feel your walls clench around him, trying in vain to push him out.

He seems to sense your struggle, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he leans in closer, his teeth nipping at your ear.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Take it, you stubborn bitch. Take all of me." His hips move faster, his cock pistoning in and out of you with a brutal efficiency that leaves you gasping.

You can't help but whimper, your body trembling with the effort of resisting the building pleasure. "You're going to cum for me," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to scream my name as I fill you up."

You want to fight it, you want to keep your dignity intact, but your body has a mind of its own. The hybrid wolf's relentless assault sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "No," you moan, the word torn from your lips despite your best efforts. "I won't…I won't…ahh…"

He chuckles again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Yes, you will," he says, his voice filled with dark amusement. "You can't help it, can you? Your body knows what it needs." His hands move to your hips, his claws digging in as he pulls you into his thrusts, each one more powerful than the last.

You whine, trying to deny the building climax, but your body has its own agenda. Your hips buck up to meet him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your bruised core.

He's right; you can't fight it, not when he's so deep inside you, not when his knot is swelling and demanding your submission. You feel the first spasm of your orgasm, your muscles clenching around his cock, and he grunts in satisfaction.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice a dark purr that sends shivers down your spine. "Give in to it, little omega. Let me feel you cum around me." His thrusts grow more erratic, his knot swelling to a terrifying size.

You can't hold back the scream that rips from your throat as your climax hits you like a storm, your body writhing beneath him. He takes advantage of your weakened state, slamming into you harder, the knot stretching you further than you thought possible.

The pleasure is unbearable, your body a live wire of sensation as he takes you over the edge.

But amidst the waves of ecstasy, you feel a sharp, searing pain as your leg gives way beneath his weight.

You scream in agony, the sound muffled by his mouth as he kisses you roughly, swallowing your cries.

"Mine," he snarls, his teeth digging into your neck. You feel his cock pulse inside you, filling you with his seed, claiming you once again.

Your body convulses around him, the pain in your lower body mixing with the agony of his brutal mating.

"You…you monster," you whimper, tears streaming down your face as your body continues to spasm around his knot.

The pain in your leg is like nothing you've ever felt before, a white-hot agony that sends shockwaves through your body.

You try to kick him off, to fight back with every ounce of strength you have left, but the pain is too much. You're trapped beneath him, his knot swollen and lodged deep inside you, his seed filling you up and marking you as his property.

After riding out your orgasm, the alpha wolf pulls out of you with a smug smile, his cock still hard and gleaming with your blood and cum.

He looks down at your broken leg, the bone jutting out at an unnatural angle, and his eyes flash with a twisted kind of satisfaction. "Looks like you'll be staying put," he says, his voice a dark purr. "It's for the best, really. Less running around for you to do."

You whimper, the pain making it hard to focus, to think. "W-Why are you doing this?" you ask, your voice shaking. "What do you want from me?"

The alpha hybrid wolf's smile widens, his eyes cold. "Everything," he says, his voice a dark whisper. "I want everything you have to give, and then some."

He runs a hand down your side, his claws lightly scoring your flesh. You flinch, but he doesn't stop, his touch a sadistic caress that makes your skin crawl. "I want you to submit, to beg for my cock, to crave my touch."

His voice is low, hypnotic, and for a moment, you almost believe you could want that.

────────────

The alpha wolf's cold, sadistic gaze locks onto your trembling form as he pulls out a set of long piano strings, the metal glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

You watch in horror as he wraps them around your uninjured leg, his eyes never leaving yours. The strings bite into your skin, the tension palpable as he tightens them, his teeth bared in a feral smile.

You try to kick him away, but the pain in your broken leg sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you incapacitated.

The alpha wolf's eyes gleam with excitement as he tightens the piano strings around your leg, the metal biting into your flesh with a cruel precision.

You scream in agony, the pain from your broken leg now eclipsed by the new torment.

He's not destroying it yet, but the threat is clear in his sadistic smile. He enjoys watching you squirm, your fear and pain only serving to fuel his lust.

"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, don't do this."

The alpha wolf's smile only widens as he tightens the strings further, watching as the color drains from your face. "Why do you keep fighting?" he asks, his tone mocking. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

Through gritted teeth, you manage to spit out through the tears, "Because I'm not your omega." Despite the pain, a small part of your spirit remains unbroken, the fire in your eyes a silent challenge.

The hybrid wolf's chuckle sends a cold shiver down your spine as he tightens the piano strings around your uninjured leg.

The pain is unbearable, your body writhing in agony as the metal digs into your flesh. You feel the warm trickle of blood start to run down your leg, the reality of his plan sinking in with a sickening thud. The strings are cutting through your skin, the tension building until you can feel the bone of your femur grinding against them.

Each twist of his hands sends a fresh wave of pain through you, and you can't help but cry out, your voice hoarse from your previous screams.

The alpha wolf leans in closer, his teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he whispers, "Let's see how much of a fighter you really are, my little omega."

With a sickening twist of his paws, the piano strings tighten, biting deeper into your flesh.

The pain is unimaginable, the strings cutting through your skin and muscles, the bone of your leg feeling as if it's about to snap.

You scream, the sound raw and animalistic, as you feel the strings slice through the last of your resistance.

"Good," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with perverse pleasure. "Scream for me, show me how much you hate it. Show me how much you're going to fight me every step of the way."

The alpha hybrid wolf's chuckles echo through the forest, sending a cold shiver down your spine. "I knew you'd be a fighter," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "But that's what makes it all the more satisfying when you finally break."

He leans in closer, his hot breath against your face as he whispers, "And you will break, little omega. You'll beg me to keep you, to never leave you."

With a final twist of the piano strings, you feel the bone in your leg give way with a sickening crunch.

The pain is so intense, you're sure you're going to pass out, but somehow, you remain conscious, your eyes locked on his.

The alpha wolf's twisted smile widens as he watches the pain etched into your face, the strings tightening until the bone in your leg snaps with an audible crack.

You scream in agony, your body arching off the ground as much as his hold on you allows.

The pain is so intense, it feels as though your entire world has been reduced to the burning, searing heat of the strings digging into your flesh. He releases the tension slightly, watching as the blood starts to pool around the wound, the muscles in your leg quivering with the effort to stay attached to the bone.

"See?" he says, his voice a dark purr. "No more running for you. Now you're just where I want you, exactly how I want you."

He leans in closer, his hot breath fanning over your face, his teeth grazing your cheek. "But don't worry," he whispers, "I'll make sure you're taken care of. After all, you're my prize."

His hands move to stroke your side, his claws lightly grazing your skin. The gentleness of his touch is a stark contrast to the cruelty of his words, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

The alpha wolf's hands move with a cruel precision, tightening the piano strings once more. You feel the unbearable pressure build, the strings digging into your flesh like serrated knives. Your screams fill the forest, a desperate, primal sound that seems to echo off the very trees themselves.

You're not just begging now; you're pleading with everything you have, your voice hoarse from the screams that have torn from your throat. "P-Please," you sob, "please don't do this. I'll do anything, I'll be whatever you want me to be."

The hybrid wolf's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "There it is," he says, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "The sweet sound of submission."

He doesn't loosen the strings immediately, though; instead, he lets you squirm and beg for a few more moments, savoring the power he holds over you.

"Beg for it," he says, his voice a low growl. "Beg me not to take your other leg. Show me you're truly mine."

Trembling, you force the words out through your tears. "Please, I'm sorry, I'll submit, I'll be your omega, I won't fight you anymore, just don't take my leg, I'll do anything…" The words tumble out of you in a rush, each one a painful admission of defeat.

The alpha wolf's eyes narrow, considering your plea. He releases the strings slightly, the pressure on your leg easing just enough for you to draw in a shaky breath. "Anything?" he asks, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod frantically, tears streaming down your face. "Anything," you repeat, your voice a broken whisper. "Just don't do this."

He tightens the strings once more, the pressure building until you can feel the bone in your leg starting to give way. You scream, your body jerking in a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable.

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Don't worry," he says, his voice soothing despite the horror of the situation. "I'll take good care of you. You'll be my little pet, my personal fucktoy to use whenever I please."

He leans in closer, his breath hot on your face, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. "And maybe, just maybe, if you're a very good girl, I'll let you keep that pretty little pussy of yours."

You whimper, the pain in your leg unbearable as you feel the strings begin to saw through the last of your resistance. Your mind is a whirlwind of fear and desperation, and you know that you've lost. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I-I'll be good, I'll do anything!"

The alpha hybrid wolf leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he considers your words. "Prove it," he says, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. He loosens his grip on the strings slightly, the pressure on your leg easing just enough to let you breathe. "Tell me you're mine," he demands.

You swallow hard, the words sticking in your throat like bile. But the pain is too great, and the fear of losing your leg too intense. "I'm yours," you whisper, the words a painful concession. "I'll do whatever you want."

The alpha hybrid wolf's eyes flicker with something that might almost be respect, but it's quickly overshadowed by his dominance. "That's better," he murmurs, his voice a dark caress. He loosens the strings a bit more, the pressure on your leg lessening slightly. "Now," he says, "tell me you want me to fuck you."

You can't believe the words are coming out of your mouth, but the alternative is too terrifying to consider. "I…I want you," you force out, your voice shaking. "I want you to fuck me."

The alpha hybrid wolf's smile broadens, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's what I like to hear," he murmurs, his hands moving to gently stroke the side of your face, the claws retracted.

His touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the brutality that came before. He releases the strings completely, and you feel the weight of his decision as the pain in your leg recedes to a dull throb.

The alpha wolf's kiss is like a brand, searing into your very soul and leaving no doubt of your newfound status.

His tongue invades your mouth, tasting your fear and desperation, and yet there's something darkly thrilling about the way he claims you, something that makes your heart race despite the pain and horror.

You can feel his cock, still hard and slick with your blood, pressing against you, demanding entry.

Your body reacts traitorously, your arousal spiking even as you bleed out, the pain and fear mixing in a toxic cocktail that somehow only makes the situation more intense.

He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust and power as he looks down at you. "You're mine now," he says, his voice a low growl. "Say it."

You whimper, the pain from your broken legs making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. "Y-yes," you choke out. "I'm yours."

You scream as he starts to thrust into you again, biting your shoulder without mercy, his knot swelling and forcing your shattered body to accommodate his brutal claim. Each movement sends bolts of agony through your legs, but you're too far gone to do anything but take it, your mind a haze of pain and submission.

He fucks you like an animal, his hips slamming into yours with a sickening wet sound that echoes through the forest. You can feel your body trying to fight back, but it's no match for his strength and dominance. The taste of blood is thick in the air, a testament to the brutality of his mating. His teeth dig deeper into your flesh, and you know that the marks he's leaving will never fully heal.

Your cries of pain are muffled by his mouth, his tongue invading yours in a twisted parody of affection as he continues to pound into you. Each thrust sends waves of agony through your body, your legs useless and forgotten beneath you. You can't even feel the pain anymore, it's just a part of you, a constant reminder of your new reality.

As you lay there, the hybrid wolf's teeth still embedded in your shoulder, the pain from your legs is a constant throb, but it's almost as if your body is trying to adapt to the new reality it's been thrust into.

Each thrust of his cock feels like a hot iron poker being pushed into your core, the pain and pleasure mixing until you can't tell the difference anymore. Your body betrays you, your walls clenching around him, trying to keep him inside you despite the horror of what's happening.

He releases your shoulder with a wet pop, the blood from the wound mixing with the fluids already coating your skin. "You're so tight," he murmurs, his voice a gruff growl. "So fucking tight, even with all the damage I've done to you." His eyes bore into yours, a challenge and a question in their depths. "Do you like it when I hurt you?"

The question hangs in the air, a silent demand for your truth. Your body is a wreck, your mind a tornado of agony and submission, but somehow, you find the strength to nod. The words come out as a whimper, barely audible. "Yes," you admit, your voice trembling. "I do."

The alpha wolf's hand snaps back, the slap echoing through the clearing like a gunshot.

Your cheek burns with the force of his blow, the impact sending your head spinning and your vision blurring with tears. The sting of his hand is a stark contrast to the burning agony in your legs, a reminder that your submission isn't enough to satisfy his twisted desires.

"Don't lie to me," he snarls, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "I can smell it on you, the scent of fear and pain. Tell me the truth."

You whimper, trying to gather your thoughts through the fog of pain and submission. "I…I do," you repeat, your voice shaking. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

The alpha wolf's eyes narrow, his grip on you tightening. "What I want," he says slowly, "is for you to be honest. To admit that you love the way I make you feel, that you crave the pain and the fear. That you need me to own you completely."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "But I know you're a damn liar, my sweet omega. I can see it in your eyes. You're fighting me even now."

The hybrid wolf's grip on the piano strings tightens, his hands moving with a sickening precision that sends a fresh wave of terror through you.

You can feel the strings cutting deeper into your leg, the pain so intense it steals your breath away.

With a final, brutal twist, the strings snap tight, and you feel a white-hot agony as your left leg is severed completely. The blood spurts in a crimson arc, painting the leaves and soil a gruesome shade of red.

You scream in wailing agony, the sound echoing through the forest, a haunting melody of pain and despair.

Your vision swims, the world turning to a kaleidoscope of colors as the pain overwhelms your senses. The ground beneath you feels cold and foreign as your body tries to comprehend the sudden loss of a limb.

The alpha wolf pulls away, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he watches you writhe in pain. "Look at what you've made me do," he murmurs, his voice a dark purr. "You've only got yourself to blame for this." His hands come up to wipe the blood from your face, his touch almost gentle, a stark contrast to the horror he's just inflicted upon you.

The alpha wolf's thrusts become even more brutal as he watches the pain and despair play out on your face.

You can feel your body giving in, your consciousness fading as the agony of your amputated leg combines with the overwhelming pressure of his knot inside you.

Each time he pulls out, it's like he's ripping out your soul along with his cock, only to shove it back in with a viciousness that sends shockwaves of agony through your body.

The smell of blood and sex is thick in the air, a heady perfume that seems to drive him to even greater heights of depravity.

Your cries become weaker and weaker, until finally, the world goes dark.

You're not sure if it's the pain or the blood loss, but everything around you fades away, leaving only the pounding of his hips against your mutilated body.

And yet, even as you slip into unconsciousness, you can feel his knot swelling, his seed filling you up. It's a final, vicious reminder of your new role in his life—his pet, his toy, his breeding omega.

────────────

The alpha wolf chuckles darkly as you lose consciousness beneath him, your body limp and broken. He leans in, pressing a sweet kiss to your bloodstained lips, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim one last victory.

His love is a twisted, possessive thing, a perversion of the bond that should have been gentle and consensual.

But as he whispers the words into your unhearing ear, his hips never stop moving, his cock never leaving your torn, abused hole.

Each thrust is a declaration of his dominance, a promise that you will never escape his grasp.

You're vaguely aware of his words, a faint murmur against your skin. "Mine," he repeats, his voice a low growl of triumph. "You're mine now, my beautiful omega. You can't run from me anymore."

His hands roam over your body, his claws tracing delicate patterns in your skin that make you shiver in your unconscious state despite the agony. "I'll take care of you," he says, his voice soothing despite the horror of his actions. "I'll make sure you never want for anything—except for my cock, filling you up, making you scream."

The alpha wolf's hips continue to piston into your unresponsive body, his knot still swollen and embedded deep within you. The warmth of your blood coats your thighs and your skin, painting a gruesome picture of his brutal claim.

Despite your unconsciousness, your body continues to react to him, your walls spasming around his cock, a reflexive response to the pain and the presence of his seed. His movements are relentless, a testament to his desire to fully dominate and claim you.

Each thrust sends waves of pain through your body, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play in this twisted mating dance.

With a final, triumphant snarl, the alpha hybrid wolf releases his knot, filling you with his cum one last time before withdrawing completely. He stands over you, his cock glistening with your blood and his own seed.

He looks down at your amputated leg with a twisted sense of satisfaction, the crimson stump a testament to his dominance. "We'll see if you're worthy of having this back," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "But for now, you're exactly where you need to be—under me, bleeding for me."

[wiltkingart]

LOVED mtmtm and the way you write. are there any writers, artists, or anthologies you would recommend that exist in that same trans/horror/erotica/fantasy crossroads?

a few! not many that hit all points at once, but here's some reads you might enjoy:

Bound in Flesh: An Anthology of Trans Body Horror - exactly as it says, this is a collection of 13 stories by trans and nonbinary writers. i liked it a lot, thought it had a lot of great stories, and it made me feel really excited about the future (and present) of trans horror.

Body after Body by Briar Ripley Page - "Sex, drugs, violence, cannibalism, psychic powers, a catgirl (sort of)", body after body is a novella that describes itself as a "lurid, dreamlike, amoral queer/trans sci-fi trash literature at least four or five people have been waiting for". i can confirm everyone i know who has read it has loved it, myself included.

Eyetooth by Mars Adler - trans horror erotica novelette with medkink + wound fingering (one of my absolute favorite things!) between an art student and a mysterious androgynous doctor. LOVED the surgery scene.

The Scales of Seduction by Rien Gray - not horror. This one's an f/f trans erotic romance novella between the last living Basilisk and Medusa, but i have to mention it because its a strong contender for my book of the year. Loved loved loved the writing. Poetic prose that had me highlighting lines on every page. Just astoundingly wonderful.

Kissing Carrion by Gemma Files - a collection of short horror stories "where obsession is stronger than death... body, soul, time and space itself, are all fluid and treacherous... vampires ache for more than simply blood... where the only escape from the darkness within is to embrace it". none of these stories are trans, but it has some queer horror elements that have left a heavy mark on my brain. gemma files has been a big influence on my writing in so many ways and reading this collection last year was one of the big things that pushed me to take the leap to write something like MtMtM!

that's all for now. i have a ton of weird trans indie sex books on itch.io bookmarked i still need to check out, but people are free to leave their own recs in the replies. and i talk a lot more about books over on my personal blog (@wiltking).

[osamucide]

I dunno if we're still lusting over Akutagawa but I just wanna say that that the idea of him being turned on by gore in horror movies made all the blood leave my brain immediately because I've been having these fantasies about reciting him some disturbing ass poems about, fkn cannibalism or something, whilst jerking him off

um we are ALWAYS lusting over Akutagawa in this house. see below the cut for real lit nerd shit. cw here—handjob, sub!Aku, John Donne himself is a content warning, mdni

This made me think of Donne’s "The Flea"—if you’ve not read it, basically it uses intermixed blood inside a flea as an extended metaphor for sex and it kind of has no business being so fucking hot for how strange it is (quoted below is the last stanza). And I think Akutagawa, in the limited swath of earthly things he indulges in outside of Dazai's approval, fucks with ANY kind of deranged media, not just movies; his beloved touching him while they recite weird poetry? Oh my god. Your mind is huge, anon. Listen—

"Cruel and sudden, hast thou since purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?" you sigh, voice slow, deliberate, hardly above a whisper; you pinch the spine of the leather-bound anthology, balancing it against one of his trembling shoulders as you straddle his waist, sinking your teeth into the milky skin beneath the severity of Ryuunosuke's jawline. "Wherein could this flea guilty be, except in that drop which it sucked from thee?"

Your other hand strokes him, softly, agonizingly; Ryuunosuke's breath is short, rhythmic, quietly frustrated between his chest and his throat as he tugs at the rope binding his wrists behind his back, his fingers flexing wide, curling into fists. When you squeeze just beneath his leaking tip and work your way down his cock, his forehead falls into your shoulder, where he returns your bite through a pitchy groan.

"Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou... Find'st not thy self, nor me the weaker now." You, calculated, roll your wrist faster; his stifled groan gives way to a gasp, an open-mouthed plea for you to continue, and he twitches, hips lurching upward in pursuit of more of your touch. "'Tis true; then learn how false, fears be—"

"Please," Ryuunosuke's voice weaves through yours, desperate and broken amidst cries of your name. "My love, please."

"Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me," you continue, pausing only to lick across the chain of bruising kisses you've left upon his neck. Pink and needy and twitching like the rest of him, his cock stutters, jumps as pearly white ropes of cum are spurting from him, hitting his pale chest and stomach, dripping over your fingers. You mutter the last line as he sobs, thanking you in breaths so shaky and hoarse and spent that you can't help your satisfied smile; "Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee." ⊹

this ask also made me think of a dissertation I read in my undergrad and it’s called "Raw Metaphors: Cannibal Poetics in Early Modern England" by Amanda Lehr. it’s wonderful and if you’re a cannibalism-in-poetry freak like me DEFINITELY check it out. it's lengthy but so worth the read.

[lincolndjarin]

socials, etc. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ao3 ☆ insta ☆ kofi mdni, my entire blog is 18+ please read all tags and warnings, dddne fics are tagged accordingly follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for fic updates

navigation :

I - series, completed & ongoing

II - one off's

III - drabbles

I - series (in order of release)

Best Kept Secret [ completed series ] .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 195k words

bodyguard!Din Djarin x princess!reader

summary : Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

tags: : enemies to friends to lovers, arranged marriage, forbidden love, smut, angst, canon-typical violence, eventual happy ending

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Oh Honey [ completed series] .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 56k words

monster!Joel Miller x mortician!reader

summary : you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

tags: : horror/mystery, angst, monster fucker, soulmates au, graphic descriptions of violence, body horror, gore

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Bewitched [ coming soon ]

Din Djarin x witch!reader

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Every Now and Then [ HIATUS]

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags: : angst, toxic relationships, unplanned pregnancy, possessive behavior, healing, extremely complicated relationships

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Sparrow's Spectacles [ ongoing anthology ]

summary : a series of horror one shots based around different pedro characters. be warned, the dead doves are going to be remarkably inedible. installments will be tagged accordingly, all stories will be 18+ and dddne.

tags: : dead dove do not eat, horror, dub/noncon

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II - one off's (in order alphabetically)

A Little Mishap [francisco morales x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, bondage

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Bound in Beskar [din djarin x f!reader]

tags : armorer!mando, dom/sub vibes, pwp, blacksmith bondage

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Constructive Criticisms [javier peña x f!reader]

tags : virginity loss, fluff, mutual masturbation

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the Dragonfly & the Moon [joel miller x f!witch!reader]

tags : ritualistic sex, knife play, blood

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More & More & More [jack daniels x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, bondage

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My Sister Lives in the Attic [joel miller x f!reader]

tags : grief, angst, child loss

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My Way [oberyn martell x wife!reader]

tags : married fluff, pegging

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Not So Secret Santa [javier peña x f!coworker!reader]

tags : enemies to lovers, semi-public sex, christmas

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Pretty in Pink [joel miller x f!reader]

tags : fluff, breeding kink, lingerie

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Ride Cowgirl! [jack daniels x f!reader]

tags : unprotected sex, bondage

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Sweet Boy [din djarin x gn!reader]

tags : sub!din, pegging

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the Thing That Gives [ezra x f!reader]

tags : dead dove do not eat, noncon, tentacles

III - drabbles (under 1k words)

sub!din x f!reader

dieter bravo x f!reader

comandante veracruz x f!reader

[brokehorrorfan]

Bound in Blood will be published in hardcover and e-book on September 10 via Titan Books. The 357-page anthology of cursed stories is edited by Johnny Mains.

It features stories by Adam Cesare, Eric LaRocca, Zin Rocklyn, Nadia Bulkin, Isy Suttie, Charlie Higson, Angeline Morrison, A.G. Slatter, Priya Sharma, A.K. Benedict, Guy Adams, Lucie McKnight Hardy, Ramsey Campbell, Alison Moore, Laura Mauro, Reggie Oliver, Anna Taborska, and Kim Newman.

A terrifying and chilling anthology of over 20 original stories by award-winning writers exploring cursed and haunted books; featuring malevolent second-hand books, cursed novelizations, unsettling journals and the end of the world. You find it hidden in the dark corner of the bookstore; tucked away in a box in the attic, desperate to be read; lurking on your bookshelf, never seen before. Crack the spine, feel the ancient pages. Read it aloud, if you dare. This anthology brings together horror’s best and brightest to delve into the pages of cursed books, Eldtritch tomes and haunted bookstores.

Pre-order Bound in Blood.

[headachecat]

The Hours Found - Chapter II

———

An anthology of hours in Lucanis and Rook’s relationship unseen in the game, but very much needed.

—

Timing: After 'A Murder of Crows' quest.

———

There were moments when Treviso seemed frozen in time.

On evenings like these, the streets swelled with vendors and passersby alike, their voices intertwining into a constant background hum that hovered beneath the warm glow of lanterns. The canals whispered in their gentle flow, weaving through the stone bridges and wrapping around the city like a comforting shield from the outside world. It was a place that could lull even the most restless souls into stillness.

Lucanis could feel his heart growing full again after so much time away. He had dreamt of this—the simple act of returning, of retracing his steps through Treviso's narrow, cobbled streets. He remembered the scent of incense drawing him past the gondolas near the casino, over rooftops, and down to the heart of the city, where life buzzed unceasingly. In his dreams, he never quite reached his destination, but the memory was enough. It kept him alive for longer than he should have been.

With the blood mage dead and his cousin having paid a deserved price, Spite had grown unexpectedly quiet. Their contract had been fulfilled, and yet they were still bound together, unable to part ways as Lucanis had with his other contractors. The demon’s lingering presence was a lasting tether he couldn’t simply sever. But then again, maybe this was something he had to get used to from now on. Forever.

He spent his time in Treviso wisely, putting affairs in order for the Crows. To tell the truth, Caterina’s grip on the faction was still strong, a fact Lucanis accepted with a quiet gratitude; her strength would steady them for what lay ahead. There were things coming their way that none of them has faced before. The time for change would come later. And he had plenty in mind.

The Lighthouse seemed so far away now, as though it were a distant memory, waiting to be looked back on fondly. But his contract wasn’t finished. Each day, he found himself glancing back toward the Casino rooftop, where they placed the Eluvian. It was as if he expected it to pull him back, or perhaps he was simply longing for the feeling it brought. The slight tingle of magic running through his veins when he passed through it, the ethereal Fade opening before him and consuming him.

Spite’s voice echoed in his mind, grating with impatience the longer they stayed in Antiva, craving something more than the lacklustre tasks that had come to fill his days. The demon wanted action, thrill, some spark beyond the monotony of wandering the town and completing what could, for lack of a better word, only be called chores. The simplicity of it all left him restless, his hands itching for something with a bit more consequence.

‘Are we really here to play errand boy?’

There were no great battles to fight here for now, no powerful figures to contend with as of yet. But in a strange way, he found it refreshing. It was a time to breathe, to consider where he’d been, and perhaps where he was meant to go. The future outside Treviso seemed like impending doom. But for now, here, within the market walls, it was the same old familiar tune.

The Lighthouse companions visited him once, their arrival unannounced but deeply welcome. Harding, reliable as ever, brought in crates of supplies packed with dried meats, bread, and preserved herbs. She had also taken the time to collect the armour prepared by the Crows and the townsfolk of Treviso, a careful balance of the necessities the Shadow Dragons relied upon to endure their hardships. Her companion, Taash, shadowed her movements with a quiet vigilance, as inseparable from the Scout as ever. They had, it seemed, become a ‘packaged deal’ – one rarely seen without the other nowadays. They both knew the journey through the Crossroads held dangers, and Taash made sure Harding was well-protected against them. The closeness between them was palpable, and Lucanis couldn’t help but smile as he observed their exchanges, like a bickering of an old couple.

They carried news of their work in the Arlathan Forest, where every day had been a battle against the Venatori’s advance. Harding’s expression grew grim as she recounted the latest encounters.

‘They brought in these massive machines,’ she said, gesturing with her fork. ‘They remind me of golems I’ve seen in the Deep Roads, but… different. Burning, metal, run by blood magic. Nasty.’ She shook her head, her face twisting with disgust before she returned to her plate, finishing off the last bites of her meat pie with a sense of completion, as if the taste could somehow wash away the unpleasant memory.

Taash let out a low groan, more resigned than frustrated, partially focused on sharpening their axe; the blade balanced on one knee.

‘And fucking difficult to kill, too,’ they muttered, the rhythm of the whetstone pausing as they considered the recent fight. ‘Rook took a nasty hit yesterday.’ They froze, recalling the brutal impact. ‘If it hadn’t been for Neve…’ A glint of admiration flickered across their face. ‘She froze that pile of junk solid. If she hadn’t? Who knows what it would’ve turned into.’

Lucanis shifted at that mention, leaning closer to the table with a sudden intensity. Spite awoke in his mind, an annoying presence, slipping into place on the left side of the table. The demon’s gaze sharpened as he watched his host. His brows knit together, and his head tilted in a way that hinted at curiosity, inquiry, and something else Lucanis couldn’t quite put together.

'Mierda,' the Crow cursed. 'Is Rook safe?'

Taash shrugged nonchalantly, still focused on the edge of their axe.

‘Dunno. Haven’t seen her since Emmrich took over the healing. Let’s hope he won’t turn her into a zombie,’ they added with a slight smirk, their eyes never leaving the blade.

Lucanis’ gaze drifted to Harding, whose lips were twitching as she tried to suppress a chuckle. She rolled her eyes at Taash’s remark, but the soft laugh didn’t escape her entirely. Without missing a beat, she placed a hand on Taash’s arm, her tone turning firm but affectionate.

‘Taash!' she blurted out, her voice breaking the tension like a sudden breeze through still air. She then glanced at Lucanis, offering him a reassuring smile. ‘Rook’s just fine. A broken rib and a few bruises, but it’s nothing we can’t fix. She’ll be back on her feet in no time.’

Lucanis nodded in gratitude, though his thoughts were distant. He looked down at his cup and began to spin it in his hands, fingers tracing the rim in a way that suggested the motion was more anxious than idle. Harding watched him for a moment, noting the slight tension in his posture, the subtle tightness in his jaw. She let out a quiet breath and gave a gentle nudge toward Taash.

‘I believe we must go. Walk us back?’ Harding got to her feet. Lucanis nodded in agreement, standing up as well. He gave a quick glance toward the demon still seated at the table, his presence like an dead weight in the room. He was careful not to address Spite unless it was absolutely necessary, but there was no ignoring the way the demon seemed to be waiting for something—its gaze fixed on him with a certain knowing glint.

‘You care about the elf,’ Spite hissed, his voice low and dripping with malice. It gestured toward Taash’s axe with a lazy motion of its head, as though the weapon itself could speak for the bond between them. ‘Enough to come back to the Fade now?’

He cast a hook, waiting for Lucanis to bite.

They made their way down the busy streets, through the Treviso market. Taash looked around with a careful amusement, stalling by the weapon merchant’s tables to catch a glimpse of the more expensive gear. Harding kept her usual soft smile, encouraging her partner to explore the goods they came across. The steel gleamed under the lanterns, as they traced fingers over the hilt of a finely crafted sword, eyes narrowed in appreciation. Lucanis kept behind the pair, observing them in peaceful wonder, his footsteps light, as though he was trying not to disturb them.

Harding’s voice was gentle, filled with quiet encouragement, and it drew Taash further into the merchant’s quarter. Every now and then, Scout’s hand drifted toward the Qunari without a thought, the mere proximity of their touch enough to convey something unspoken. Even when she didn’t make contact, the closeness between them felt constant, natural, as though they were tethered by an invisible thread. The Crow couldn’t help but watch, feeling like he was intruding, like he wasn’t meant to notice the fine details of their connection—the way Harding’s hand lingered near Taash’s, the subtle affection that passed between them unspoken, yet certainly recognised. It felt oddly inviting. There was something easy about the way they moved together, like the world outside them had faded, leaving just the two of them in their own unspoken rhythm. To witness their emotions, how there was no question about what would come next between them. Like a welcomed anticipation of a kiss.

‘Can’t believe they still have it!’ Harding exclaimed with excitement, her voice cutting through the noise of the market as she disappeared behind a stall toward a blacksmith Lucanis was far too familiar with. The sound of her voice snapped him back to reality, and he followed her, nodding in a greeting to the craftsman, who was wiping his hands on a rag.

‘Dellamorte,’ the blacksmith said with a grunt, his weathered face lighting up slightly at the sight of the pair. Harding, already scanning the wares with gleeful intent, pointed behind the seller to a glass display case.

‘The one to the right,’ she said, turning to look at Taash, her eyes bright with excitement. ‘Slim one with the greenstone handle? Rook showed it to me weeks ago.’

Lucanis stepped forward, his curiosity piqued. The blade was displayed under the scarce light, its dark green handle gleaming faintly with shimmering stone dust. Nevarran, he thought as he observed it. The blade itself was narrow, razor-sharp, and veins of shimmering blue light crawled up the steel like tendrils of magic. His fingers itched to hold it, but he remained still, observing the craftsmanship.

Spite, who had quietly moved to stand next to them, pressed his face through the glass to get a better look. His eyes widened as he took in the intricate design.

‘Lyrium,’ he said with a knowing nod, his voice low and almost reverent.

Lucanis raised an eyebrow, turning toward the blacksmith, intrigued but skeptical.

‘You carry a Nevarran lyrium-infused blade?’ he asked, his tone careful as he watched the merchant open the box and lay the blade out in front of them, the blue veins of light still faintly glowing.

‘You ever heard of a spell blade?’ the blacksmith’s voice was low, almost conspiratorial, as he tapped the steel gently with his finger, sending a soft ring through the air.

Lucanis tilted his head, his interest growing. It was a concept he’d heard rumours of, but it had never been quite so clearly explained. Before he could respond, Harding, always eager to share her knowledge, jumped in.

‘It’s like a staff, for mages,’ she said, her voice enthusiastic. ‘But with a blade, for close, magic channeling combat! Much more useful than standing vulnerable on the sidelines, if you ask me!’

She gave Lucanis a quick, but knowing Look, and he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. He studied the shimmering lyrium veins, wondering how it would feel to wield such a weapon in battle.

‘Your little elf friend seemed particularly interested last time I’ve seen her,’ the merchant picked up the dagger, showing it off from both sides, before placing it back in the display case. Taash murmured under their breath in approval.

‘Good eye, Rook.’

The pair turned back, thanking the blacksmith quietly for his time, and made their way towards the casino. Harding’s voice, light with satisfaction, drifted back to him as she and Taash continued ahead, but Lucanis was still preoccupied with the blade. He took a few steps behind them, lost in thought, before Spite suddenly blocked his path.

Lucanis sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for this, but Spite was persistent. He pushed through the demon’s ethereal form as though it were nothing more than mist, but to his frustration, the wraith simply reappeared in front of him again.

‘That blade,’ Spite hissed, his voice close enough to make Lucanis flinch. It was so sharp, so venomous, that for a moment, he almost expected the demon to physically spit in his face. ‘Maybe if Rook had it, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.’

Lucanis stopped dead in his tracks. The words hit harder than he expected, and he furrowed his brow as his gaze turned dark. The reminder stung.

‘Why do you care?’ he asked, his tone cool, though beneath it, a hint of hesitation peaked through. Spite hovered, his form flickering like a mirage in the heat. His eyes gleamed, an amusement dancing behind them.

‘These are your thoughts. Your mind. I am just reading it,’ Spite replied, the words dripping with mockery.

Lucanis clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin.

‘What do you get out of it?’

The demon smirked, and circled around him, enjoying the way the tension built.

‘I’m out of this boring, chore-ridden city and get some action again,’ he replied, his voice full of twisted glee.

Lucanis couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh.

‘Just here for the chaos, as usual.’

His eyes narrowed, but the demon's words lingered in his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He couldn’t shake the image of Rook, her figure standing strong on the battlefield, her movements swift and calculated, each motion lit by the sparks of green energy beaming from her hands. The power of her magic, wrapping around her staff with such precision and force. She had always amazed him. It was as if every strike, every wave of her fingers, was an extension of her will, a force of nature unleashed in an elegant, unstoppable flow. She moved with such purpose, a beautiful, violent rhythm that seemed to draw the battlefield itself into its tempo. It resembled a dance—graceful yet fierce, controlled yet wild.

An intoxicating thought flickered through his mind then.

I want to dance with her.

The idea settled into him before he could fully grasp it, the impulse almost as vivid as the image of her there, spinning through the chaos of battle. A dance of their own making—a partnership forged in battle, where every step and every turn was made together, in perfect understanding and expectation. A connection that was more than just combat, more than strategy. As simple as what he’s seen today at the market between his friends. As natural as breathing.

But then, that image twisted. Rook's focus wavered, and the protective barrier around her faltered—just for a moment. He saw the pain in her face, the bruise forming around her bloodied eye, the blue of her iris disappearing behind the damaged nerves. The blight spreading across her skin like a disease, eating away at her strength.

Lucanis closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to shake off the haunting image. He should have been there. He should have been the one by her side, fighting with her, watching her back as she always had for him. There’s nothing more important now than defeating the Elven gods, than fighting alongside Rook. Than fighting for her.

He reminded himself of that, the weight of the connection grounding him as he stood under the familiar, old stars. He started to miss the Fade spirits' strikes above his head. The fog of doubt was clearing, and the path ahead was becoming clearer.

He allowed himself to be embraced by the familiarity of Treviso for too long, its routine and distractions pulling him away from what mattered. The usual Crow business, the endless schemes and whispers, had clouded his judgment. The responsibility he'd taken on – whether it was the weight of being the First Talon or a punisher to his oppressors – had blurred his focus. But not anymore.

He returned to the merchant, throwing a sack of gold onto the table with a soft thud. The coins inside clinked together.

‘I trust this will cover it?’ he said.

The blacksmith, eyes the sack with interest, his hands already reaching for the Nevarran blade.

‘It’s always a pleasure, Dellamorte,’

Lucanis nodded in agreement, accepting the weapon with a silent gratitude. The blade felt strangely familiar in his grip as he hid it in the lining of his jacket. As the lyrium on the blade brushed his fingertips, a tingling sensation ran up his arm. It was a powerful weapon indeed.

Turning towards the Casino, Lucanis spotted Harding peeking around the corner, her face lighting up when their eyes met. She observed him with that same curiosity she always had, her lips curling into a soft, kind smile that made him feel like everything was just a little bit lighter.

She reached out, urging him forward with a quick wave of her hand. Lucanis waved back in acknowledgment and half-jogged towards her.

‘Harding! I just had a thought!’ he called out, his voice laced with a certain eagerness he couldn’t quite suppress.

She waved him off with a soft laugh.

‘I already asked the Crows to pack your bag when we arrived,’ she teased, ’Now, supplies won’t carry themselves!’

Lucanis grinned, the weight in his chest easing just a little bit as he reached her side. In fact, the smile stayed with him through the entire walk back to the Fade. A strange feeling appearing within him, as if he was coming home.

To this strange place in-between the planes, full of spirits and things he will never truly understand.

To Rook.

[aleisters]

Do you have links to any of your publications? I've read some of your fanfic and it was really good so I'd love to look at your other work

thanks anon! all my work is queer horror to varying degrees. i haven’t published anything this year because i had a mental breakdown towards the end of last year (you know, it happens).

i have a self-published story on itch.io: https://cadavertrial.itch.io/tohauntandtohold

and these are my published stories. SCAB magazine is free:

“Looking For The Big Death” in Bound In Flesh: An Anthology of Trans Body Horror (Ghoulish Books) (April 2023)

“A Void, Suspended With That Which Cannot Be Stars” in Salt, Sand, Blood (Sliced Up Press) (July 2023)

“pond scum” in SCAB Issue 13 (SCAB Magazine) (September 2023)

“The Face Of The Waters” in The Book of Queer Saints Volume II (October 2023)

[wiltking]

attempting to rank all my 2023 reads, because i dont really give ratings anymore, but still want to try to make sense of everything i read this year. there were a lot of great books, and this was really hard! this order doesn't speak to the objective quality of the books, but rather my personal enjoyment of them.

(5 stars) 1. Ariah by B.R. Sanders 2. A Book of Tongues by Gemma Files (reread) 3. Leech by Hiron Ennes 4. Point of Dreams by Melissa Scott 5. Point of Hopes by Melissa Scott 6. Ocean's Blood by Thelma Mantey (~4 stars) 7. Point of Sighs by Melissa Scott 8. The Stone Prince by Fiona Patton 9. The First Stone by Mark Anthony 10. Kissing Carrion by Gemma Files 11. Point of Knives by Melissa Scott 12. Fair's Point by Melissa Scott 13. Silent Reading by Priest 14. The Door into Shadow by Diane Duane 15. Aleksey's Kingdom by John Wiltshire 16. Obsidian Island by Arden Powell 17. Bound in Flesh: An Anthology of Trans Body Horror edited by Lor Gislason 18. Spring in Siberia by Artem Mozgovoy (~3 stars) 19. The Freeze-Frame Revolution by Peter Watts 20. Revenant Gun by Yoon Ha Lee 21. The Master of Samar by Melissa Scott 22. Master of One by Dani Bennett and Jaida Jones 23. The Painter Knight by Fiona Patton 24. Chasing Cold by Stephen Graham King 25. Resistance by B.R. Sanders (~2 stars) 26. A Million Quiet Revolutions by Robin Gow 27. The Trans Space Octopus Congregation by Bogi Takács 28. Luck in the Shadows by Lynn Flewelling 29. Dreamer by Steven Harper 30. The Stark Divide by J. Scott Coatsworth 31. Steal the Sky by Megan E. O'Keefe 32. Fiorenzo by Sebastian Nothwell

DNFs: Seven Blades in Black by Sam Sykes The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

[bakuliwrites]

Mirror, Story Three: Adrenaline

Disclaimer: Post-Game Spoilers!!!!!!

Previous Story, Next Story

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Astarion x Tav (OC)

Chapter Summary: Orlando and Astarion decide to break in their new bed, which brings up some complicated memories for them both.

An anthology of short, post-game stories featuring Astarion and my Tav, Orlando.

Chapter Tags: BG3 SPOILERS, ACT 3 SPOILERS, Smut, fluff, angst, cock-warming, vaginal sex, blood drinking (Astarion feeding), discussions of past trauma, discussions of intimacy/intimacy issues, cuddling, telepathic connections, memory sharing

Read here in this post or over on my AO3.

Her adrenaline courses through him, fizzling in his veins, lightning sparking every nerve ending in Astarion’s body. She is inside him, her blood threading into the very makeup of him, weaving into his sinew and lacing his marrow with everything she is made of. Scales, teeth, and talons make their bittersweet marks on his pale skin. Mother-of-pearl, brine, and the stars encompass his vision. Safety, love, and devotion bury themselves in his unbeating heart.

Astarion’s teeth, sunk into Orlando’s neck, draw her warmth into his mouth, flooding his tongue with iron and ecstasy. Meanwhile, he is sheathed within her, cock kept warm by her cunt. Orlando inhales sharply before releasing a breathy, satisfied sigh. They are bound together, sticky sweat sealing skin to skin, fangs latching to flesh, her heat enveloping him. 

Orlando’s hips roll against Astarion’s one more time before she rests, allowing him to settle inside her while he has his fill of her blood. Too much movement and he’ll undoubtedly rip the Tiefling’s neck open, and that is the last thing he wants. Orlando’s nails drag softly through his snowy curls as she lays feathery kiss after feathery kiss to Astarion’s cheekbones. He listens to her slow, even breaths, the gentle pump of her heart, a pulse now beating inside him. Astarion can taste Orlando’s exhilaration, sparkling like champagne on his tongue. It’s the same elation, the same anticipation he tasted the very first time he drank from her, in what feels like ages ago now. It’s the same elation that flutters in his core every time he’s close to his beloved. There is a feeling of home in Orlando’s blood, of safety in the crook of her neck.

Sometimes, when he drinks from Orlando, Astarion’s mind wanders back to when they first met. His first taste of the blood of a thinking creature: drawn to Orlando’s scent like a moth to flame, Astarion had crept through the camp hoping the Tiefling might let him taste of her. Just once. She had seemed the easiest to drink from because she was the most amenable of the group. The friendliest. He had been correct in his assumption, finding himself lucky that she didn’t drive a stake through his heart. Orlando even went so far as to offer up her blood on a nightly basis.

Astarion’s thoughts then turn to the first time he and Orlando snuck off together and how much of a disaster that had been. Perhaps part of him felt like he owed her for giving up such a vital part of herself every night. That, and he had desperately been searching for safety with no real understanding of how to gain it. Regret slinks into his heart and he finds himself distracted by the memories of every time he felt like he had to trick Orlando into being close to him. Into keeping him safe.

Leave whatever distresses you in the past, dear heart, Orlando’s gentle voice whispers in Astarion’s mind. She senses his upset, though she would never read his mind without his permission. Astarion releases her neck for a moment, letting Orlando draw him back to the present with her lips, soft lips that taste of promise and home.

Astarion settles his thoughts, losing himself once again in the metal on his tongue and the warmth of being buried inside his beloved. His elegant fingers ghost down Orlando’s abdomen, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he trails down to her heat. Her moans, stifled and breathy, flood his mind with a covetous desire that starts to overpower his sanguine hunger. His thumb circles the sensitive bud of her clit, two fingers dipping into her slick entrance and pumping rhythmic and slow. Arousal, heavy and perfumed in Orlando’s blood, blooms on Astarion’s tongue. Gently, her hips grind back into him, the movement against his sensitive cock making him gasp into her. 

Carefully, Astarion releases Orlando’s neck, hunger satiated for the moment. But his ache for her, for her taste, is not yet satisfied. Gently, his tongue grazes the two little wounds he’s left behind on the Tiefling’s neck before slowly rocking his hips in tandem with hers. He luxuriates in the soft moans, the teeny keens that escape Orlando’s lips when he presses into her. The bed beneath them creaks ever so slightly but holds together well when Astarion picks up his pace. 

“I suppose your construction skills have improved,” he somewhat breathlessly manages, the corners of his lips curling up into a smirk. Orlando merely gives a strained chuckle, though her rosy face brightens, and she flashes a smile that rivals the light of the sun. Sun be damned, Astarion thinks. He has all the brightness he needs right here, in his arms. 

Astarion’s legs begin to quiver as Orlando wraps hers tighter around his hips, pulling him into her as if trying to merge their bodies into one. He is close, so very close, his core tight and aching. When he looks down, Orlando has her eyes squeezed shut, face flushed and skin hot to the touch. She must sense him staring, for the Tiefling cracks an eye open and smiles softly.          

“Tell me what you need, love,” she whispers, reaching a hand up to caress Astarion’s cheek. 

“Just this,” he returns, leaning down to capture her lips. Orlando smashes her lips against his, swallowing his hungry groans as he releases. Her walls pulse around him, drawing from him everything he has, everything she needs. 

“Astarion,” she breathes as she comes undone beneath him, his name an incantation. And hers an invocation on his lips as he fills her. As they settle, weary and joyously foggy-brained, Astarion sears kiss after kiss to Orlando’s lips. 

“I love you, my darling star,” she whispers to him.

“And I, you,” he returns, folding into her embrace, holding one another tight and near. Close is not close enough, but for now, it will have to do. Outside, night envelopes their little cottage, cradling it safe in shadow and starlight. With the distant sounds of the city competing with the rush of the nearby ocean, Astarion could believe that their new home exists in a world all its own. It still feels so terribly strange to call this cottage their home. His home. His first real home in gods-know how long.

Astarion mulls over this evening of firsts. First days spent in this cottage. First time breaking in their new bed. The first bed they’ve ever owned together. And the first whispers of promise, of tomorrow, of the future. 

With Orlando’s velvet lips feathering gentle kisses along his neck, Astarion’s mind wanders back to that fateful night they snuck away together. It still lingers in his thoughts, an anxious, somewhat mortifying memory.  

Orlando’s rejection of him that night had stung. Astarion was rarely rejected. It had happened a couple times when he’d been on the hunt for his master. Nothing his ego couldn’t recover from. However, any rejection he received would send fear shooting through his veins. Rejection meant punishment. Crawling back to Cazador empty handed meant days spent in isolation. Or worse… Astarion would then have to scramble to find someone a little less discerning (and usually a fair bit more inebriated). Orlando’s rejection felt different, though. More personal, at first; until he learned why she had rejected him.

Orlando, in the present, senses Astarion’s thoughts turn to darkness again. She pauses her ministrations, pulling back to meet his distant gaze. 

“Dear love,” she whispers, smoothing her thumb along the angle of his cheekbone, hazel irises suffused with affection, “What brings distress to your heart?” 

Astarion gazes up at her, small strands of dark hair plastered to her forehead and eyes glimmering in the warm glow of the fire in the hearth. He smooths back her hair, hand lingering for a moment on her cheek. Orlando looks at him the same way she’s always looked at him: without an ounce of hostility. With no expectation or silent deception. Only with deep adoration, curiosity, and endless patience.

“Do you remember our first time together?” Astarion utters, cupping Orlando’s face. 

“Yes,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss into his palm, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment, “It’s kind of hard to forget.” 

Astarion chuckles, recalling the first time they actually slept together, after a night spent drinking cheap wine and reveling with the Tiefling refugees. That had been a heady, passionate, and altogether lovely night, but that’s not what he had been referring to. 

“No, our first-first time together. In the clearing before we reached the goblins. Not after the Tiefling party,” Astarion clarifies. Orlando smiles knowingly at him.

“That’s what I meant,” she returns, a sheepish blush dusting her cheeks, “What about it?” 

Astarion opens his mind to her, feeling her gentle presence glide into his thoughts. He shows Orlando as he remembers her: shivering in the middle of that clearing, body bathed in silver moonlight. An unknown threat. Someone he thought might betray him at her first opportunity. How wrong he had been.

***

Astarion had been skulking in the shadows, rehearsing how he would utterly beguile and woo this stranger. This Tiefling who had sprung from waves and brine. 

He had emerged from the darkness, smirking devilishly, a charming simulacrum of the man he thought Orlando would want. He could smell her adrenaline, the thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. He was starving. One taste of her blood was all he had needed to crave it like the drug it was. Not just her blood, but the blood of beings higher up on the food chain than rats and bears and things of that ilk. 

Her smile had been tender, a softness reaching her eyes that Astarion had been convinced was a ruse, not realizing how genuine it truly was. But there had also been something akin to fear in her gaze when he finally closed the distance between them. Something that hadn’t been there when he’d sunk his teeth into her neck, just days before. To comfort her, he had whispered honeyed promises, things he knew people liked to hear before they made love. Although, he wouldn’t have called what they had been about to do “making love.” It would have been sex for the sake of lust, for the sake of fulfilling a basic need. Fucking because they could have died any day then, and who could have known when that day might’ve come? 

Orlando had kissed him, hard and deep, her breath becoming his, and his, hers. In the starlight, she had looked at him with curious eyes, with wonderment. She was always searching, learning, and trying to read people. It had infuriated him at the time, knowing that she was trying to figure him out. As if he were some sort of puzzle or curious artifact. His irritation was broken mere seconds later. 

“Is your neck an okay place for me to touch?” he remembers her questioning after a silent moment. Astarion had been taken aback, not sure he’d ever been asked that before. Orlando’s recognition of the sensitivity that area might hold for a victim of the bite took him by surprise. Granted, she had also been one of the few of his bedmates coming in already knowing of his affliction. Still, Astarion had found himself lost for words for once.

“Y-yes,” he had managed to sputter after what felt like an eternity. Orlando had merely nodded at him, beaming softly, before laying tender kiss after tender kiss up his neck, taking special care when she reached the two little pinpoint scars on his right side. Astarion had found himself enjoying her tenderness. Something inside him threatened to shatter, but he had kept himself composed on the surface. Inside, he had been reeling.

That had been the first time that night Astarion started to question what he was doing. He had only planned to seduce the Tiefling as nothing more than a guarantee of his safety. She would fall for him, he wouldn’t fall for her, but he would solidify a place of trust in Orlando’s life. But a number of things would go awry that night and soon his plan would be cast to the wayside. 

Things had gone well for a little while after that. Orlando eased into the moment, the opportunity. She had even playfully offered her neck, knowing Astarion must have needed to feed. But as the night drew on, Astarion started to feel her slipping away from him, her spirit hanging somewhere in the ether around them, no longer inhabiting the limbs that had been entangled with his. 

Orlando’s heart had been hammering against his chest, hands trembling and breath catching in her throat. Her skin had been cold, goosebumps prickling along her arms, and Astarion could do nothing to warm her, having no body heat of his own. Her reaction had been familiar, familiar because it was the same way he felt with most of his bedmates. At the time, he had felt something in him recoil, this kindred sensation stirring up a quagmire of guilt in his heart. When Astarion pulled back from her neck, Orlando had tears in her eyes. Reflected in her shimmering gaze, he saw his own spirit, broken and weary, just as hers was.

“I’m sorry,” she had whispered, tears streaking down her cheeks. When he reached to wipe them away, he found himself hesitating, as if in fear of scalding himself with starlight.

“I’m not ready for this,” she had sobbed, burying her face in her hands. 

“I-“ he tried, but found his words gumming up his throat. All he could do was stare as Orlando wept, tremors of sorrow descending through her body, reverberating through Astarion’s.

Ashamed, the vampire spawn had cast his gaze to the ground, kneeling before the Tiefling at enough of a distance to hopefully make her feel secure, but not alone.

“Here,” he had offered a handkerchief to her, helping her come to a seated position. Orlando dabbed at her eyes with the kerchief, wiped her nose, and took a deep breath. Her face had been puffy from crying and her eyes bloodshot. 

“I’ve ruined your evening,” she had whimpered, dark brows furrowed. Astarion frowned, a surge of something protective fueling his annoyance at this apology.

“Don’t apologize,” he had spit, not wanting her to see the recognition, the familiarity he had with how she was feeling. He couldn’t have begun to guess as to why she had reacted in such a way. Later, he would find out about Orlando’s lack of experience. The pressure Orlando had to “remain pure” for some hideous, eldritch ritual that would bind her to the Fathomless that helped create her. How she was constantly pushed to the limit to achieve some twisted prophecy. How her body was going to be used as a conduit, a puppet for a being that didn’t care what she wanted or how she felt. How the guilt and shame of living a life for herself grew and grew over the years.

“I wasn’t allowed pleasure until I found success,” she had said to him several days later, when the awkwardness began to dissipate and they found a private moment to chat, “My body was never meant to be my own. It was always a tool for catapulting my family into the favor of a being that would dispose of us as soon as is no longer had use of us.”

As she had explained this to Astarion, her eyes seemed to gaze into a past that was swiftly catching up with her.

“I was a dowry, a sacrifice made to appease the Abyss,” she went on, “The Abyss was to be my only embrace. Well, I ruined that with Gortash.” She chuckles ruefully at this, “Felt a bit like stealing a piece of myself back. Enver was always really good at making me feel- like me. Like I belonged to me, and not anyone else. Still doesn’t make intimacy any easier, though.”  

She had squeezed Astarion’s hand gently, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of her lips, “If you’re still interested, maybe we can try again.” 

And when they finally did, it was glorious. Orlando’s brightness was unmatched, with the exception of Astarion’s in that moment. With her, he experienced a tenderness, a softness so deeply unfamiliar to him over these last two centuries. Every subsequent time they slept together, he expected the rug to be pulled from underneath him. For the other shoe to drop and for Orlando to suddenly flip on him, a secret violence unleashing itself on Astarion. But it never did, and this almost terrified him even more. Instead, Orlando was sweet, she was kind, she was patient. She understood him, and he, her. After that, the rest was history.  

***

In the present, Orlando closes her eyes, lips still pressed to Astarion’s open hand. Tears flood the lines in his palm, but still, Orlando smiles.

“You are more than deserving of gentility, of softness, my love,” she whispers to him, hazel irises suffusing with affection, “Always and forever.”

It’s taken a long time for Astarion to accept this, to really believe that he is deserving of what Orlando, Karlach, Wyll, and all their friends say he is deserving of. Slowly, but surely, he is realizing that he is allowed to want, to need, to be gentle with himself. Others are allowed to be gentle with him.

“I never meant to hurt you that night,” Astarion admits, drawing Orlando down to pepper kisses against the corners of her lips, “I was a selfish fool.” He chuckles sardonically, glancing away as he is once again filled with guilt.

“Don’t take all the credit,” Orlando scoffs with a slight raise of a dark brow, “I made my own choices that night. Had my own motivations.”

She pauses, gaze searching.

“Here,” she murmurs, intertwining their fingers, “Let me show you. It might be easier.”

Now, it’s Astarion’s turn to see this same night from her eyes. He lets Orlando guide his mind, slipping into her head, nestling in the folds of her brain. Slowly, a scene unfolds before Astarion’s eyes and it’s as if he has been transported back to the early days of their adventuring. The visions Orlando gives him are so much more visceral than any he is able to show her. They feel less like memories and more like Astarion is actually inhabiting Orlando’s body for a moment. He braces himself for the overwhelming flood.

***

Orlando’s vision starts a little before meeting Astarion in the clearing. The Tiefling navigates through tangles of bramble and thick curtains of willow branches. There is an electric thrill in her veins, one Astarion has tasted countless times before. There is also an innocent excitement fluttering in her heart. Their flirtations over these last several weeks have finally culminated into something, and not just a passing fancy. Witticisms slung back and forth, teasing comments, and playful snark have not just been for, well- naught. There is an attraction there, on both sides, and it is not just some illusion or wistful hope on Orlando’s part. Her delight at this realization fills this vision with a rosy glee.

And then that joy is lost. Snuffed out by a slinking anxiety that slithers through Orlando’s thoughts. Astarion is everything she thinks he is: handsome, suave, mysterious, witty, biting (in every sense of the word), and-

A stranger, a halting fear whispers. Orlando’s heart skips a beat, and she pauses in the shade of a towering tree. Her hand reaches out towards the trunk, bark rough under her fingertips as she steadies herself.

Astarion is a stranger. A beautiful, interesting stranger. A growing confusion trickles into the Tiefling’s heart. Orlando would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been attracted to the Elf from the moment she set eyes on him. But she would also be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was unsettled by Astarion, by his unknown motivations. What were his intentions for her? Will he sleep with her and then cast her to the wayside afterwards? Does he want something from her? Is this a tactic? Astarion strikes her as someone who is quite calculating about the relationships he forms. If there is something he can get from someone, then he is likely to cozy up to them.

Much like someone else you know, a thought interjects. Orlando sighs, the reminder of Enver sparking a little pinpoint of pain behind her eye. Not that Enver ever did anything like that to her, but she’s watched him throughout the years build relationships with others purely to gain and never for anything beyond that. If that is what Astarion is doing to her, well-

Orlando pushes the thought away, turning her attention back to the vampire spawn waiting for her. She’s going to be late if she dilly-dallies any further; but she can’t shake the feeling that perhaps she is being used somehow. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe she should just turn around and go back to her tent and forget she ever entertained the idea of meeting a vampire spawn in an isolated clearing well past midnight. She really doesn’t know Astarion very well and this seems like a good way to end up dead.

But you could die any day now, anyway, Orlando reminds herself as she is about to turn around and head back, This thing in your brain could consume you entirely. And then you would die alone. Lonely and isolated. Pure, just like they want.  

Contempt rises in Orlando, hatred burning with an incandescent radiance in her chest. It seems to fill her lungs with smoke, and for a moment, she is lost in the anger. But Orlando recenters herself, snuffs out her fury towards her real father, towards the devil that called himself her father, and towards her stolen youth with a deep breath. The past is long gone now. Astarion is waiting for her. Some other future that she can make her own is waiting for her. There is an odd sort of freedom that comes with the insertion of the tadpole: a realization that Orlando is free of the ties that bound her to the iron-handed patriarchs of her childhood and to the Fathomless that has claimed her from the moment she was conceived. She can do what she wants for the remainder of the time she has left, until she becomes an Illithid. And why waste it worrying about tyrants that have no hold over her anymore? Why not spend it in the embrace of a handsome, curious Elf with hair like starlight and eyes the color of polished garnets?

A swell of confidence, a new resolve surges through Orlando. By the gods, she’s going to enjoy her night with Astarion. His intentions be damned. Her own fear be damned. Who knows how much longer they have left? Might as well make the most of it. With a boldness Orlando didn’t even realize she was capable of, she traipses through the brush and finds herself standing in the middle of a clearing lit by blue moonlight.

Orlando’s eyes are drawn to the opposite side of the clearing, at a figure cloaked in darkness. There is something slightly ominous about Astarion revealing himself to her, skulking in the shadows, emerging from the foliage. Orlando’s tremors of excitement, of hesitation, shiver through her body and make her limbs feel cold. He is an unknown threat to her, someone who could betray her at the drop of a hat. But she is also terribly curious about Astarion, watching with fascination as starlight casts strange shadows in his crimson gaze.

The vampire spawn advances, he whispers his saccharine promises to her, and Orlando knows they are false. Orlando knows in her heart-of-hearts that the Elf is merely saying everything he thinks she wants to hear. And still, she finds herself drawn to him, desperate for his touch, desperate to feel like she is alive. Like she is not a ticking time bomb for some dark, eldritch power. Like she is not on death’s door, transformation into an Illithid imminent. Orlando pours her will to live, powerful and bright, into every searing kiss, every gentle caress that night.

Even if Astarion is using her, she is going to enjoy this time and make sure he enjoys it, too. With her clothes scattered on the forest floor, Orlando lets Astarion lift her into his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist and curls her tail around his leg. His lips taste of iron and he smells of bergamot and brandy. There is a faint scent of undeath lingering underneath, but it is hardly noticeable. With her back pressed against the trunk of a tree and her fingers tangled in Astarion’s snowy curls, Orlando allows herself to get lost in the vampire spawn.

When she pulls back for air, her gaze darts down to the two little scars on his neck. They look ravaged, the edges feathered and rough. Cazador was not gentle with him, there was no ceremony to Astarion’s turning. Orlando feels her heart sink at the thought. She has avoided touching his neck up until this point and wonders if this is an off-limits zone for him.

“Is your neck an okay place for me to touch?” she inquires, meeting Astarion’s gaze. She registers the shock in his eyes, though his face remains as cool as ever.

“Y-yes,” he almost sputters and Orlando realizes she has hit a nerve. She wonders if anyone has ever asked him that. If consent has ever been something Astarion has been asked about. Soon, Orlando will learn why she senses a kindred spirit in Astarion (though their reasons are vastly different), but for now, she only has a growing sense that they are each just as unfamiliar with intimacy as the other.

Orlando lays gentle kisses against Astarion’s neck, taking special care over his scars. His tiny huffs of approval and satisfied groans indicate to Orlando that he is enjoying her motions. There is a brief moment where Orlando feels the veil lift, where it feels like she and Astarion are raw and exposed to one another, and not just two strangers having a tryst out of fear they’ll both be dead in a few days. Astarion’s elegant fingers drag softly down the ridges and scales along Orlando’s spine, and he lets out a sigh that sounds very close to one of relief. Orlando buries herself in Astarion’s scent, his embrace, and lets the world fall away for a while.

Both in the name of equality and because she knows the vampire must be hungry, Orlando eventually offers her neck to him when she is done attending to his. Playfully, she pushes Astarion onto the leaf-dappled earth, garnering a smirk from the Elf.

“Cheeky thing,” he purrs, which draws heat to Orlando’s cheeks. Not so secretly, she enjoys Astarion’s teasing. Deftly, he flips her over, laying her against the grass and brushing aside her dark hair to expose her neck. A shiver of excitement runs through her body as she anticipates his bite.

Sharp canines sink into Orlando’s neck, pinpricks of ice flooding the Tiefling with an odd, chilly warmth. She tenses, relaxes, looks up at the stars streaking across the night sky in coruscating kaleidoscopes of light and shadow. Heat and exhilaration build and build in Orlando, almost haloing in her vision. She is practically delirious with pleasure. Astarion’s hand is at her hip and suddenly- Suddenly-

Suddenly, Orlando feels terribly naïve. Like she is play-acting. Like she and Astarion are both doing what they think the other one wants without taking a moment to ask themselves what it is they themselves want. The stars above seem to dull in luster and the moon dims. What the hell is she doing? Ruining everything. Ruining everything like she always does. How could she be enjoying herself when there’s so much at stake? How could she be allowing herself this kind of pleasure when she has so much she should be doing? She’s lost her connection with her patron, lost her connection with her family. There’s a tadpole swimming around in her brain and she hasn’t the foggiest what to do about it. She wilts in Astarion’s embrace, excitement deflating as she realizes she has no idea what she’s doing.

What about Enver? a thought ricochets through her mind. She knows the answer to this already. Enver has never been bothered in the past. They have each led separate lives at various times. And always, they come back to one another. She knows she is grasping at something to be anxious about. Something she can control in a terrible situation that is completely out of her control. Enver is not really what concerns her.

“You are meant for greater things, Orlando,” someone’s voice echoes in her mind, and she can’t tell if it’s her father’s or Raphael’s. Get back to your studies. Get back to your work. Get back to becoming everything you are supposed to be. Don’t waste time on pointless things. Pleasure and love are things you can have when you achieve your greatness. They will come easy to you then. Work harder. Be stronger.

Stop it, Orlando’s thoughts whimper, Stop please! Just let me- Let me enjoy this, please.

But her pleas to her own mind go unheard, as they always have. She loses herself in reprimands of the past, reprimands of others that scream at her in her own voice. You are to remain pure. You are to remain unsullied. You are wasting time and energy and potential. Guilt, putrid and acidic, drips down her ribs and seems to coat her insides with a viscous vitriol that threatens to dissolve her from the inside out. Orlando wants to scream as her mind is eclipsed with anxiety. 

Embarrassment releases in hot tears that stream down Orlando’s face. She hadn’t meant to ruin Astarion’s evening. As a child, it had been drilled into her head that she must remain pure. She must remain pure for the Abyss, for the Abyss will be her only embrace. She has already ruined this purity with Enver, who has loved her since her youth. Already ruined it with the few other small but meaningful relationships she’s had over the years. How can she now sully it again with a stranger? How can she be wasting her time, her energy, on frivolity when she should be working to remedy her infection? When she should be working her way back to the Abyss?

These thoughts are intrusions, intrusions she wishes would silence themselves forever. She had been having a wonderful time. A lovely time, in fact; until, as usual, she overthought the moment to death. She is horribly, horribly mortified. But Astarion is surprisingly gentle with her, giving her space, offering her a handkerchief, letting her cry. She’ll explain everything to him in a few days, but for now, they sit silently in one another’s company and watch the stars blink in and out of existence until the sun starts to creep over the horizon.  

***

In the present, Orlando pulls Astarion and herself out of this painful vision. They are both breathless, room swimming into view and steadying once they get their bearings again. The sky outside is beginning to lighten with dawn. Soon, the curtains will need to be drawn, but for now, Orlando lays her head on Astarion’s chest and lets her eyelids flutter shut.

“Thank you for being gentle with my heart,” she whispers with the last of her tears. Astarion feels tears of his own spring to his eyes, burning and long-awaited.

“You make it surprisingly easy,” he laughs, though his voice is trembling. With their fingers still intertwined, Orlando gives his hand a tight squeeze. Astarion softly lays a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her honey and orange blossom soap.

“Thank you for being gentle with mine,” he murmurs. They lay in silence for a long while, listening to the world around them waking with the dawn. After a bit, Orlando draws the curtains shut before joining Astarion at the dining table for tea. As the kettle comes to a boil, Astarion watches fondly as Orlando moves about the kitchen. If you had asked Astarion a year and a half ago where he thought he would be, a little cottage on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate with the love of his life would not have even been a thought in his head. But here they are, guiding one another on a long journey of self-discovery. Of self-acceptance. Hand-in-hand, Orlando and Astarion are slowly teaching each other to live. Life is just beginning for them, and he is grateful for this.

A/N: Oh boy, this chapter sort of got away from me. I didn't set out with the intention of writing a ton of backstory for Orlando, but that's what this ended up being. It was also a little cathartic for me. As someone who constantly feels the need to be perfect, to always be achieving something, who pushes enjoyment to the backburner often, I apparently really needed to write this. But enough about me! Thank you for reading!

I want to explore this flashback significantly more when I actually manage to sit down and write the prequel to this fic, Dark Star. I didn’t really intend to write Mirror before I wrote Dark Star, but it’s oddly helping me develop what I actually want to write in Dark Star. Which I know is kind of wonky and will mean there’s a lot of things that won’t make sense in this right now, but that’s apparently how my brain wants to do things right now. Once I finish this, I think I’ll have a better idea of how to approach Dark Star. Thanks for bearing with me :)

Sorry for the delay in responding to comments on this fic (and in others)! I promise I will get to them soon. Life has been a bit hectic and it's only been recently that I've been able to sit down and write. I hope you are all doing well! Lots of love <3

[fangdokja]

🔞When he says you're his treasure, he means it—he’ll spill blood, even yours, to keep it.

❤︎ Synopsis. Trapped aboard a ruthless Spanish pirate's ship, your defiance ignites his sadistic obsession, turning every moment into a battle of submission and survival. He’s your captor, your tormentor, and dangerously close to becoming the only one who truly owns you.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Spanish Pirate Captain x Fem. Reader

♡ Novelette. #1 - El Capitán's Tesoro

♡ Word Count. 8,115

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, rape, blood play, gun play, degradation, humiliation, forced orgasms, sadism, BDSM, bondage, groping, overstimulation, gagging, forced oral, psychological torment, fingering, public nudity, public humiliation, objectification, forced handjob, mature language, fingering, choking / breath play, biting, slut shaming, bodily injury, physical assault and violence

You find yourself bound to the mast of a pirate ship, the salty sea breeze caressing your bruised and trembling form as you struggle futilely against the rough ropes that dig into your wrists.

His dark eyes, filled with a possessive hunger that sends a shiver down your spine, bore into yours as he approaches you with a swagger that screams of power and confidence. "Mi querida," he purrs in a thick Spanish accent, his calloused hand caressing your cheek, "you're mine now, aren't you?"

You spit defiance at his booted feet, the taste of his earlier punishment still bitter in your mouth.

The crew's leers and sneers are a stark reminder of your new reality. The pirate, a man whose very presence seems to command the sea itself, chuckles darkly. "Ah, so the little bird has fight left in her. That will make this all the more… entertaining."

His grip tightens, a silent promise of the horrors to come. "Now, let's see how much you're worth," he murmurs, a sadistic glint in his gaze as he lifts your chin to expose your neck to his hungry mouth.

The world around you blurs as his teeth graze your skin, and you realize with a sickening jolt that there is no escape from the dark, twisted desires of this scoundrel pirate with a penchant for pain and a thirst for your submission.

The pirate's rough fingers trace the line of your jaw, his hot breath fanning against your ear as he whispers, "You will learn to beg for mercy, to crave the very touch that brings you torment."

His words, spoken with a disturbing affection, make your stomach churn.

You've heard tales of men like him, those who find pleasure in the suffering of others, and now you're face-to-face with one. You clench your teeth and glare at him, your eyes filled with the fire of a thousand suns.

He smirks, amused by your spirit, and steps away, leaving you to the merciless gaze of his crew. The sea stretches out endlessly, a cruel and indifferent witness to your plight.

He barks an order to his men, and the ship's deck comes alive with activity. Rough hands grab at your bound body, stripping you of your stolen armor and clothing, leaving you exposed to the lewd stares and catcalls.

The pirate watches with a smoldering intensity, his eyes never leaving yours.

Each piece of clothing that falls away feels like a piece of your dignity being torn from you, but you refuse to let them see you break. Instead, you glare coldly in the face of the nearest pirate, the act earning you a vicious slap that sends a burst of stars across your vision.

The pirate captain laughs, his deep chuckles resonating through the air as he says, "Ah, she's a feisty one. I like it."

The crew drags you before him, your body trembling with a mix of fear and rage. He circles you like a shark, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. His hand snakes out, caressing your bare shoulder before sliding down to your chest, his thumb flicking your nipple.

You bite back a scream, your body betraying you by responding despite your desire to remain stoic. He leans in, his breath hot and moist against your skin, "You will call me 'Capitán'," he whispers, "and you will learn to obey, or suffer the consequences."

His hand trails lower, down your torso, and you feel his fingertips dance dangerously close to your most intimate places.

"No," you snarl through clenched teeth, your body a live wire of defiance.

He smirks, the gesture sending a chill down your spine. "We'll see about that." He steps back, his eyes never leaving yours as he gestures to his crew.

Two burly pirates step forward, each grabbing an ankle and wrenching your legs apart. The ropes bite into your skin as you're spread wide, your vulnerability on full display. "Take her below deck," he orders, his eyes gleaming with excitement, "and make sure she's… prepared for me."

The pirates hoist you up, their grip painfully tight as they carry you to the bowels of the ship.

As you're hauled away, you catch one last glimpse of the pirate captain, his eyes darkening with anticipation, tongue flicking put to lick his lips hungrily. He's not a man to be trifled with, that much is clear.

In the cramped, dimly lit quarters below, the pirates throw you onto a filthy cot, the stench of unwashed men and stale ale assaulting your senses. They tie your ankles to the wooden frame, stretching you out until you're taut and exposed.

You struggle, but your efforts are met with cruel laughter and painful slaps that bruise your skin.

One of them leers down at you, a gap-toothed grin splitting his face. "The Capitán will have you begging for his cock," he sneers, his voice thick with lust.

You grit your teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cower.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for any means of escape or a weapon to defend yourself with, but all you find is a stale, dank mattress and a few discarded articles of clothing.

The pirates don't seem to care about your resistance, seeing it only as a challenge to be met with increased force.

They leave you there, alone with your thoughts and fears, the muffled sounds of the ship's activities above serving as a grim reminder of your new reality.

Minutes feel like hours as you lay there, the wood beneath you digging into your back with each roll of the ship. Your breaths come in short, sharp gasps, your heart hammering against your ribs like a caged bird desperate to flee.

The door creaks open, and you tense, expecting the pirate captain to make good on his threat.

Instead, a familiar young cabin boy, about your age, tentatively steps inside. His eyes widen as he takes in your naked, bound form, and he stammers an apology before setting a tray of food and water beside you.

"D-don't worry, miss," he whispers, his voice barely audible, "I'll come back to… to help you later." He quickly retreats, leaving you with a flicker of hope that is almost immediately extinguished by the heavy thud of the door closing behind him.

The food is barely palatable, but you force yourself to eat and drink, knowing you'll need your strength. Your thoughts race, trying to piece together a plan of escape or at least a way to resist the inevitable. The creaking of the ship's timbers and the distant laughter of the pirates above serve as a grim soundtrack to your growing despair.

Suddenly, the door swings open again, and the pirate captain strides in, his boots thudding against the floorboards with a confidence that sends a cold shiver through your body.

He's shed his outer layers, revealing a chest covered in dark, swirling tattoos that ripple with each step he takes towards you. "Ah, mi querida," he says, his voice a dark caress, "I see you've had some time to think about your new life."

You spit at him again, glaring coldly, the gesture one of pure spite and defiance. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, his smirk never faltering. "Such spirit," he murmurs, leaning down to trace your collarbone with a finger, "it's a shame it will be broken."

He reaches for the ropes holding your wrists, loosening them slightly before sliding his hand down to cup your breast. You flinch, your body arching away from his touch despite your best efforts to remain stoic.

"Don't touch me," you growl, your voice hoarse with rage. His grip tightens, his thumb brushing over your nipple, watching with sick satisfaction as it pebbles against his calloused skin. "You will learn," he says, his voice a dark promise, "to crave my touch."

He stands, his eyes never leaving yours as he strips off his shirt, revealing a body that is a testament to years of hard labor and ruthless living. His muscles are like chiseled marble, each flex and movement a silent threat of the power he holds over you.

The pirate captain, or 'Capitán' as you're now forced to think of him, moves closer, the scent of him – a mix of salt, sweat, and something darkly alluring – fills your nostrils.

You can't help but feel a flicker of fearful arousal, a treacherous response to his dominance that only fuels your hatred for him. He leans in, his lips hovering over yours, the stubble of his beard scraping against your skin.

"Call me 'mi amo'," he murmurs, the words a command and a promise of possession, "and beg for my cock."

He kisses you then, hard and brutal, forcing his tongue past your clenched teeth. You bite down, tasting the metallic tang of his blood, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, his grip on your breast tightens, his other hand tangling in your hair to hold you in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue dueling with yours.

You struggle against the ropes, trying to push him away, but your body's response betrays you. Despite the horror of the situation, a part of you is drawn to the fire in his touch, the raw power in his embrace. He breaks the kiss, his eyes burning with a hunger that makes you feel both terrified and strangely alive. He smirks, knowing he's getting to you, and says, "You're going to be a delight to break."

He steps back, giving you a moment to breathe, to gather your thoughts and your dwindling resolve. He paces the room, his eyes never leaving you as he speaks, "You see, my sweet enemy, you are now my property. You will serve me, pleasure me, and do as I say, or you will feel the wrath of the sea in ways you can't even imagine." He pauses, stroking the leather belt at his waist.

"But first, let us get acquainted." He moves closer, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words.

You try to turn your head away, but he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to look at him. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes raking over your exposed body with a hunger that makes your stomach clench.

"And so very… delicate." His thumb presses against your bottom lip, pushing it down to expose your teeth. "But I suspect there is a feral creature beneath this pretty exterior, just waiting to be unleashed."

The pirate captain's hand trails down your body, his calloused fingertips leaving a trail of fire across your skin. You fight the urge to whimper, instead focusing on the rage burning in your chest. He reaches your bound wrists and loosens the ropes a bit more, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's see if you can be a good girl for me," he says, his voice a seductive purr that makes you want to scream.

He takes your hand in his, bringing it to his waist, guiding your trembling fingers to the fastening of his breeches. "Undo these for me."

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes flashing with defiance. But the weight of his gaze is too much, and you know that resisting now would only bring more pain. You fumble with the fastening, your heart racing as the material falls away, revealing the heavy outline of his cock beneath his breeches. His smirk widens as he watches you, the anticipation in his eyes a stark contrast to the fear in yours.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with dark amusement. He takes your hand in his, guiding it to the bulge in his pants. "Now, stroke me."

His grip is firm, almost painful, as he forces you to explore him. You feel his length, his heat, his power, and your stomach turns. But you do as he says, your hand moving with a jerky obedience that feels like a betrayal to every fiber of your being.

His eyes never leave yours as he watches your hand move over his cock, his expression a mix of pleasure and sadistic enjoyment. The fabric of his breeches is rough against your palm, the evidence of his arousal growing more and more pronounced. You bite your lip, trying not to let the tears fall as you perform this degrading act. The cabin seems to shrink around you, the weight of his gaze and his grip on your wrist crushing you beneath their intensity.

"Faster," he commands, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver of revulsion down your spine. You try to ignore the way your own body responds, the traitorous wetness between your legs that you know he can feel.

"Show me how much you want this." You know it's a lie, but the need to survive forces your hand to obey. The strokes become quicker, your breaths shallower, as he watches with a predatory gaze that seems to see right through your soul.

But, the Capitán's patience wanes, and with a growl of frustration, he yanks you down from the cot, forcing your knees to hit the wooden planks of the cabin floor with a jarring thud.

"Too slow and tame," he snaps, the gentle facade of his earlier seduction gone, replaced by the cold, hard edge of his dominance.

His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until you're staring up at him with a mix of fear and anger. He reaches down, freeing his thick, swollen cock from his breeches, the tip glistening with precum. "Take it," he orders, pushing it against your parted lips.

The pirate captain's eyes narrow with irritation as you struggle to turn your head away from his advancing cock. His grip on your hair tightens, yanking your head back even further, and you feel his shaft graze your cheek, sticky with precum.

He grunts in frustration and leans over, using the weight of his body to keep you in place. One of his hands wraps around the base of his cock, aiming the tip at your mouth again, while the other grips your chin to force your mouth open. You fight against him, your teeth clenched and your body trembling, but his strength is too much.

With a snarl, he thrusts his cock into your mouth, pushing past your teeth and down your throat.

You gag, your eyes watering and your throat constricting around his intrusion, but he doesn't relent. "You will learn to take me, all of me," he grunts, his voice thick with lust as he starts to fuck your mouth.

You feel his cock hit the back of your throat, the feeling of choking panic rising as you struggle to breathe around the thick, pulsing shaft. Your hands come up instinctively, trying to push him away, but he's too strong.

His hand leaves your chin, instead gripping the back of your head to hold you in place as he starts to fuck your face with brutal, punishing strokes. You can feel the veins in his cock throbbing against your tongue, and the taste of his salt fills your mouth.

You try to resist, to keep from gagging, but it's no use. His grip is like iron, and your body is his to use as he sees fit.

"Swallow," he commands, his voice harsh and unforgiving.

You do as he says, trying to keep the bile from rising as he continues to pump into your mouth. The sounds of his pleasure, the wet, obscene noises of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, echo in the small cabin, mixing with your muffled cries of protest.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his praise a mockery as he continues to use your mouth. You feel the tension in his body, the way his cock swells even more against your tongue.

He's going to come, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Your eyes water, your throat burns, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break. His grip tightens, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he nears his climax.

"Look at me," he growls, and you force your eyes to meet his, the defiance in yours unwavering despite the fear and humiliation you feel. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown with desire as he watches you, his expression one of triumph.

As he reaches his peak, he pulls out abruptly, and you gasp for air, your mouth and throat aching. He grunts, and you feel the hot spurt of his cum across your face and neck, the sticky fluid mixing with your saliva and tears.

"Swallow," he commands again, and you do, the taste of him bitter on your tongue.

He releases you, his cock still hard and slick with your saliva and his seed. You fall back onto the floor, your body trembling with the aftermath of his assault.

But, it isn’t over.

The pirate captain's grin widens as he watches your reaction to the grisly 'gift'. He knew about the cabin boy's attempt to help you, and he's made an example of what happens to those who dare to defy him.

────────────

The severed head strikes your face with a sickening thud, the weight of it heavier than you'd ever imagined. Sticky, warm blood splatters across your skin, soaking into your hair and dripping in thick, viscous rivulets down your neck. The impact forces you backward slightly, and the head bounces off your shoulder before landing on the floor with a wet squelch.

The cabin fills with the putrid stench of death—the cloying, metallic tang of freshly spilled blood mingling with the sour odor of decay. Chunks of gore and strands of sinew still cling to the ragged, torn neck, where the pirate captain’s blade had severed it with merciless precision. Bone fragments glint faintly in the dim light, jagged and exposed like a grotesque reminder of the brutality that birthed this grisly gift.

You feel the congealed blood smear across your lips, the taste coppery and nauseating as it mingles with your tears. A thick glob of something unidentifiable—a piece of flesh or fat—clings stubbornly to your cheek, while a splatter of crimson has found its way into your mouth, the taste of death an unwelcome invader.

The lifeless eyes of the boy, once filled with fear and determination, now stare up at you, glassy and unseeing. His mouth hangs open in a silent scream, blood caking his lips and teeth. A patch of his scalp, partially scalped during the beheading, hangs loosely, revealing raw, glistening flesh beneath.

Above it all, the Capitán's cruel laughter rings out, his grin widening as he takes in the horror etched across your face. "A fitting fate for a traitor, don’t you think?" he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He kneels beside you, his fingers reaching out to smear the blood across your face like some grotesque war paint. The sticky warmth clings to you, a visceral reminder of his control, his power, and his complete disregard for human life.

The distant sound of pirates outside the cabin cheer seems amplified now, their laughter a cacophony of depravity that fills your ears and fuels your anger.

"So, mi querida," the Capitán says, his voice low and menacing, "you thought you could escape me, did you?" He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes are cold and hard, the earlier playfulness gone, replaced by a steely determination to break you. "You see what happens to those who try to help you?" His grip tightens, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek, mingling with the blood and cum that already mar your skin.

You remain silent, your eyes blazing with a mix of anger and fear. The cabin boy's sacrifice won't be in vain; you'll find a way to honor his courage.

The pirate captain seems to read your thoughts, a smug look crossing his face. "Ah, still so defiant. It's what I love most about you."

He releases your hair, letting your head fall back onto the disheveled pillow. "But fear not, I have something special planned for you tonight. Something that will truly show you who's in charge here."

The pirate captain's usually well-hidden jealousy flares like a beacon in the night, and his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of the cabin boy's lifeless head on the floor. He wipes a stray drop of blood from your cheek, his gaze lingering on your tear-stained skin. "You see," he murmurs, "you belong to me now. And I don't share."

The Capitán's words are like a knife twisting in your gut, the realization of the cabin boy's fate hitting you like a physical blow.

Yet, you remain silent, your eyes never leaving his.

His anger and jealousy are palpable, a living, breathing entity in the room that coils around you like a snake.

He grabs the head by the hair, lifting it to your face so that the dead eyes seem to stare accusingly into yours. "Look at him," he says, his voice a snarl of possession, "he thought he could take what's mine, but now he watches as I claim you." He places the severed head next to the pillow beside you.

You feel his weight shift on the bed as he moves to straddle you, his cock still hard and demanding. His hands roam your body, his touch no longer gentle but possessive and bruising.

You struggle against him, trying to push him away, but your bound wrists are no match for his brute strength. "You will learn your place," he says, his voice a dark promise as he reaches down to spread your legs wider. "And if it's the last thing I do, I will make you scream my name."

The pirate captain's hand slides between your thighs, his rough fingers finding your clit and pressing down hard. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the involuntary moan that threatens to escape as he starts to rub you in slow, deliberate circles.

His thumb circles your clit, each pass sending a bolt of pleasure through your body despite the horror of the situation.

"You're so wet for me," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "even when you're crying for that worthless damn boy." His coldblooded rage is a living thing, a beast that feeds on your fear and humiliation.

You want to spit in his face, to tell him that you're not wet for him, that you'd never want a monster like him.

But your body seems to have a mind of its own, and the slickness between your legs is undeniable proof of your traitorous arousal.

He notices your struggle and sneers, his hand moving away from your clit to grip the base of his cock.

"Open your mouth," he commands, and you know what's coming next.

You do as you're told, the taste of his cum still fresh on your tongue. He guides his cock back into your mouth, his eyes boring into yours as he starts to fuck your face again, harder and more punishing than before.

The tears fall freely now, mixing with the blood and sweat that already coat your skin. You feel his hands on your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples, the pain a stark contrast to the pleasure he's coaxing from your pussy.

He's not even trying to be gentle, his actions driven by his need to dominate and control.

And as much as you hate him for it, a part of you responds, your body arching into his touch despite your silent protests.

The Capitán's eyes gleam with dark excitement at your silent rebellion, and he takes your refusal to acknowledge his dominance as a personal challenge.

He pulls his cock from your mouth, the wet sound of it leaving your lips echoing in the tense silence of the cabin. He stands up, his erection jutting out from his breeches like a weapon of war. You can see the pulse in the thick vein that runs along the underside, a testament to his desire.

"You're going to wish you'd been more obedient, my sweet," he says, his voice low and filled with malice.

He strides to his desk and pulls open a drawer, withdrawing a pistol that gleams dully in the candlelight. He checks the chambers, ensuring it's loaded, then turns back to you with a wicked smile. "This will be your lesson in obedience," he declares, striding back to the bed.

He cocks the pistol, the metallic click echoing through the cabin. You feel a cold bead of fear trickle down your spine as he presses the cold, hard muzzle against your clit. "Suck me," he commands, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine.

You know what he's planning, the horror of it all making bile rise in your throat. But you also know that resisting now will only make it worse.

With a resigned anger, you open your mouth and take him back in, the taste of his earlier release still coating your tongue. He groans in pleasure as he starts to fuck your mouth with renewed vigor, his hips rocking in time with the strokes of your hand. You can feel the pistol's muzzle moving against your sensitive flesh, the pressure building as he becomes more and more agitated.

"Look at me," he snarls, his hand tightening in your hair as he forces you to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild, a mix of anger and lust that makes you feel like prey caught in a predator's snare.

"You're going to swallow me whole, and then you're going to take this," he says, pausing to press the gun harder against your clit. "And you're going to beg for it."

You suck harder, trying to ignore the cold steel pressing against your sensitive flesh.

You know that if you don't give him what he wants, if you don't submit to his twisted games, the consequences will be dire.

And yet, a part of you clings to your defiance, refusing to give in to his sadistic desires.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a harsh demand. "Look at me when I fuck your whore mouth."

You glare up at him, the hatred in your eyes unmistakable.

But you don't look away.

You can't.

His cock fills your mouth, stretching your lips and jaw as he takes what he wants without mercy.

The pistol presses harder against your clit, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat building between your legs.

He's going to do it.

He's going to fuck you with it while you suck him off, and there's nothing you can do to stop him.

With a snarl of triumph, the Capitán pulls back, the head of his cock popping free of your mouth with an obscene sound.

He lines up the pistol with your entrance, the muzzle slick with your juices from his earlier touch. "Beg," he says, his voice low and demanding. "Fucking beg for it."

You don’t. You’ve had enough of this torment!

The moment you try to fight back, thrashing and squirming like a cornered animal, the cold steel of the pistol is replaced by a searing pain in your thigh.

You scream around his cock, your body arching in agony as the bullet tears through your flesh.

The cabin boy's headless body beside your pillow seems to mock you, a silent reminder of what happens to those who dare to defy the pirate captain.

"Ah, such a spirited little whore," he chuckles, his voice thick with sadistic pleasure.

He digs his fingers into your injured flesh, making you scream in agony, the vibrations making him moan in triumph. He then slowly pulls the pistol out of you, the sound of your blood and juices mixing with a wet pop that makes your stomach churn.

He wipes the blood from the muzzle with the corner of the bed sheet, his eyes never leaving yours. "I told you I wouldn't kill you. Yet," he adds, a warning in his tone that sends a fresh wave of fear crashing over you.

He leans in, his cock still rock-hard and slick with your saliva. His free hand wraps around the shaft, stroking himself as he watches you squirm and cry out in pain.

"Now, let's try this again, shall we?" He presses the gun back against your clit, the threat of another shot clear in his eyes.

You're trembling, the pain from your leg radiating through your entire body, but you know that submitting is the only way to survive this nightmare.

"P-please," you manage to croak out, the word sticking in your throat like a shard of glass.

His smile widens, and you feel the pressure of the gun increase. "Beg for it, bitch," he whispers, his eyes glinting in the flickering candlelight.

With a shudder, you do as he commands, your voice hoarse and filled with pain. "Please, fuck me with it," you murmur, the words barely audible.

The pirate captain's chuckle is the only response before he lines the pistol up with your entrance, the cold metal pressing against your bruised and swollen flesh.

You feel your body clench and jolt away in reflex, but his hand on the back of your head keeps you in place.

"That's better," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal as he starts to slide the pistol into you.

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to hold back the screams that threaten to tear from your throat.

The pain is unbearable, a white-hot agony that makes your vision swim as the barrel stretches you impossibly wide. His eyes never leave yours, the triumph in his gaze making it clear that he's enjoying every second of your torment.

You feel his hand move to the base of the pistol, his thumb pressing against your clit as he starts to fuck you with the gun. "Look how much you want it," he says, his voice a low purr that makes your skin crawl.

"How much you need me to fill you up, to make you scream." The pain is unreal, but so is the pressure building inside you. Your body betrays you once again, your hips moving in time with his thrusts despite the agony.

The Capitán's smile broadens into a sadistic grin as he watches you succumb to his will, your body betraying you as it responds to his depraved advances. He thrusts the pistol in and out of your pussy, the wet, obscene sounds of your forced submission filling the cabin.

His thumb continues to tease your clit, his movements becoming more insistent and rough. "You're such a good little bitch," he murmurs, his voice a caress that sends shivers down your spine despite the horror of the situation.

You bite your lip hard to keep from crying out as he continues to fuck you with the gun. Each thrust sends waves of pain and pleasure through your body, a toxic mix that you know will only serve to further ensnare you in his twisted game.

The blood from your leg soaks the bed, a stark crimson against the white sheets, but he seems unfazed by your pain.

If anything, it seems to excite him more, his strokes becoming harder and faster.

As the pirate captain continues to fuck you with the pistol, your body reaches its breaking point.

The pain in your leg is a dull throb compared to the agonizing pleasure he's wringing from your body, and you can't hold back the screams anymore.

You arch your back, pushing the gun deeper into yourself, desperate for the release that you know is coming. Your cries of pain and pleasure mingle, the sounds of your body being violated by the cold, hard metal echoing in the cabin.

The Capitán's eyes light up with victory as he sees you give in to his control.

He leans down, his lips capturing yours in a brutal kiss as he continues to use the gun on you, his tongue invading your mouth as his cock does the same.

He licks the tears from your face, his own passion mixing with your pain as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

"Mi vida, mi tesoro," he murmurs, his voice a dark symphony of lust and possession.

You moan against his mouth, unable to stop your body's reaction to the mix of pain and pleasure.

He pulls away, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watches you squirm and beg. "Look at you," he says, his voice filled with a sadistic glee. "You're mine now, body and soul."

He continues to thrust the gun into you, the rhythm growing more erratic as he nears his own climax. "You're going to come for me," he commands, his voice low and intense. "You're going to scream my fucking name."

Your eyes squeeze shut as the pressure builds, the pain from your leg forgotten in the face of the overwhelming sensations.

You hate him, you want to fight him, but your body responds to his touch like it's been programmed to do so.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you know that when you fall, there will be no turning back.

With a final, desperate effort, you push against the pistol, the muzzle sliding into you one last time before you shatter, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm and screams.

The pirate captain laughs, his voice a dark, triumphant sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He pulls the gun out of you with a wet, obscene sound, his eyes never leaving yours.

"There it is," he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. "My beautiful little slut, coming for me like the breeding bitch you are."

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, the gesture almost tender, a stark contrast to the horror of the situation.

"Look what you've done to yourself," he murmurs, his voice a silken threat.

He pulls out the gun, your cum mixing with your blood, and wipes the barrel off with the bed sheet. "You're so eager to please me, aren't you?" He slides the pistol back into his pants, the metal still warm from your body heat.

You lie there, trembling and broken, the agony of your leg and the overwhelming sense of violation washing over you in waves.

The pirate captain leans over you, his breath hot and rank as he whispers in your ear, "Now, let's see if you can scream for me without that pesky little thing in your pussy."

He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back until you're staring into his triumphant gaze. His other hand snakes down to your clit, pinching and twisting it with a cruel precision that has you crying out in pain.

"That's it," he coos, his grip tightening, "scream for me, mi vida. Let them all hear how much you love it."

His fingers continue to torment you, the pain unbearable and yet, your body's traitorous response is unmistakable. The pirate's eyes gleam with excitement as he feels you growing wetter, the slickness of your arousal making his movements easier.

You fight against the ropes binding you, the need to escape this nightmare overwhelming.

But with each painful stroke of his fingers, your body responds, your hips bucking involuntarily.

"You like it rough, don't you, slutty bitch?" He laughs, the sound echoing around the cabin, sending chills down your spine.

His hand moves to the wound in your leg, the blood sticky under his calloused touch. He squeezes, and the pain is like a knife twisting in your flesh.

You try to scream, but it's muffled by the gag he's immediately shoved into your mouth.

He's enjoying this, the sadistic glint in his eyes growing brighter as he watches you suffer.

"You're going to come again," he promises, his voice dark and seductive. "And this time, it's going to be for me, and only me."

He reaches down and unbinds your legs, tossing the ropes aside. You kick out at him, trying to connect with any part of his body, but he's too fast, too experienced in the art of subjugation.

He catches your ankle and pins it to the bed, his grip like iron. "You want to fight me, baby?" he purrs, his free hand moving to trace the bullet wound in your leg. "Let's see how much you can fucking take."

With a sadistic smirk, he presses his thumb into the fresh wound, making you gasp and buck against him. He uses the leverage to push you down into the mattress, his weight crushing the breath from your lungs.

"Beg me for more," he whispers, his hand moving to cover your mouth, muffling your screams.

You want to bite him, to make him feel the same pain he's inflicting on you, but all that comes out are muffled cries of agony.

"Say it," he growls, his eyes burning with an intensity that makes you feel like you're staring into the abyss. "Beg me for more, and I'll give it to you."

His hand moves from your mouth to your throat, squeezing just enough to cut off your air, making you panic.

Your eyes widen in terror, and you feel your body respond again, the sickening mix of pain and pleasure sending you spiraling towards another climax.

You try to shake your head, but the pressure on your neck doesn't allow for much movement.

The world starts to go dark around the edges, the pain from your leg a distant memory as the need to breathe overwhelms you. "P-please," you gasp through the gag, the word barely a whisper, but it seems to be enough for him. He releases his grip just enough for you to drag in a lungful of air, his smile never leaving his lips.

The pirate captain's sadistic smile widens as he pulls the gag from your mouth, tossing it aside with a wet slap.

His eyes are dark with desire, and he leans in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss that leaves no doubt about his intentions. You can taste the salt of your own tears on his lips, the bitter tang of fear and despair mixing with the sweetness of his victory.

His hand moves to your throat, his thumb stroking the spot where he'd just been choking you, a gentle caress that feels almost loving despite the cruelty of his actions.

"You're going to beg me to fuck you, my sweet little bitch," he murmurs against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy with lust. "You're going to scream for it, like the promiscuous cum dump you are."

His hand moves from your throat to your clit, his thumb pressing down with a firmness that's just shy of pain. You whimper, your body betraying you as it responds to his touch despite the horror of what's happening.

With a growl of triumph, he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock nudging against your bruised and swollen entrance.

You try to close your legs, but he's too strong, his hands pushing them apart with ease. "Look at how eager you are," he says, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pushes into you. "Fucking soaking all for me."

You whimper as he fills you, his thick cock stretching you in a way that's almost too much to bear.

He's rough, his movements punishing as he fucks you with a ferocity that matches the storm raging outside. His teeth graze your neck, nipping and sucking as he whispers degrading names into your ear.

"Mi puta," he murmurs, his voice a dark symphony of lust and possession. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" His grip on your throat tightens, the pressure increasing with each thrust.

The Capitán's cock slams into you with a ferocity that seems fueled by his possessive rage.

Each brutal thrust sends waves of agony through your bruised body, making your injuries from the pistol's earlier assault throb in time with the pounding of your heart.

You feel your body stretch and accommodate him, despite the pain, your pussy clenching around his thick length as he fucks you with a primal hunger that's as terrifying as it is exhilarating.

The cabin seems to shake with each impact, the headboard slamming against the wall as if it's trying to break free from the depraved scene unfolding on the bed.

With each powerful thrust, you feel your body giving in to the inescapable pleasure that he's wringing from you, despite the pain and fear.

Your eyes meet his, a silent scream of defiance trapped within them, but his gaze is unyielding, a stormy sea of lust and jealousy that seems to consume everything in its path.

He grunts, his muscles bulging as he fucks you harder, his hips slapping against your bruised thighs. You can't help but whimper, your body a canvas for his depraved artistry.

The cabin's walls seem to close in around you, the air thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and sex.

"Look at me," he snarls, his grip on your neck tightening, his eyes boring into yours. "Remember who fucking owns this tight little pussy. Me. You’re my fucking bitch. Damn mine!"

His words are like a whip cracking in the air, cutting through your thoughts. You want to hate him, to fight him, but the need for release is too strong.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the screams that threaten to spill forth as much as you can. But he knows, he can feel it in the way your pussy clenches around his cock, in the desperate way your body arches into his touch.

The pirate captain's cock stretches you to your limits, his relentless pounding pushing into you with a ferocity that borders on savagery.

The pain is a living, pulsing thing, a beast that feeds on your fear and despair, but the dark, twisted part of you that you hate to admit craves his touch.

He grunts and growls above you, his eyes never leaving yours as he fucks you into the mattress, his massive cock driving deep into your trembling body. The cabin walls seem to pulse with the force of his thrusts, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room, painting the scene in a hellish, erotic tableau.

"You're mine," he whispers, his voice a mix of lust and possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine. "Mine to use, mine to fuck. Mine to fucking destroy."

His hand slides down your body, his fingers finding your clit and beginning to rub it in quick, sharp circles that have you moaning despite the pain. "You're going to scream for me," he says, his voice a dark promise that you know he'll keep.

You feel your body responding to his touch, your pussy clenching around his cock as he fucks you deeper, harder. He's relentless, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that steals your breath away.

You try to keep your eyes open, to maintain that semblance of defiance, but the pleasure is too intense, the pain too great. You close your eyes, your head falling back against the pillow as he fucks you through another orgasm, your body convulsing around him.

The Capitán's rough, skilled fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, the painful pleasure pushing you to the brink of sanity.

With every cruel stroke, he whispers degrading names in your ear, his voice a dark symphony of lust and ownership. "You're just a set of holes for me to use," he murmurs, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "A good-for-nothing cumslut who's only good for taking cock."

His words are a brand, searing themselves into your soul, making you feel filthy and used.

And yet, your body responds, your pussy clenching around his thick shaft as you're forced to endure wave after wave of involuntary orgasms.

Each one feels like a betrayal, a surrender to his will.

You feel the warmth of his cum spilling into you, filling you with his seed as he groans in victory, riding out both of your orgasms. After a while, he pulls out with a disgustingly wet squelch, leaving you feeling empty and violated, your body still trembling from the onslaught.

He wipes his cock on your stomach, smearing your own blood and combined juices across your skin with a satisfied smirk. "Look what a mess you are," he says, his voice mocking as he stands up, adjusting his pants. "A filthy little slut who can't even keep still when she's being fucked."

The pirate captain licks his lips hungrily as he grabs your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his. "You're mine now," he says, his voice low and menacing. "You're going to do everything I say, when I say it, and you're going to like it."

He lets go of your chin, the sting of his grip lingering. After putting on his clothes lazily, he turns to the door with a cocky and mocking grin. "If you're a good girl, maybe I'll let you clean up. Or maybe I'll just leave you here to marinate in your own filth."

He opens the door, the light from the hallway spilling into the cabin like a beacon of hope that's quickly extinguished as he steps out, leaving you alone with your despair.

The sound of his booted footsteps recedes, leaving you shaking and sobbing on the bed, your body a canvas of bruises and pain. The door slams shut, the finality of the sound echoing through the cabin.

You feel a warm trickle of blood seep from the wound in your leg, mixing with the sticky wetness between your thighs. The bed creaks beneath you as you try to move, the ropes still binding your wrists to the headboard. You pull against them, the leather biting into your skin, but it's no use.

You're his, to do with as he pleases.

────────────

The Capitán strides out of the cabin, his steps heavy and confident as he makes his way to the dining area of the ship. His crew members look up from their plates of roast chicken and hardtack, their eyes widening slightly at the sight of their captain's flushed face and swollen, satisfied expression.

His shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his broad, sweat-slicked chest, and there's a smear of something dark on his cheek that could easily be mistaken for a smudge of ink.

The smell of sex and sweat clings to him like a second skin, a potent scent that seems to hang in the air around him.

"Capitán," one of the crew members says, his voice tentative. "You seem…different."

The pirate captain smirks, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. "Aye," he says, his Spanish accent thick and smoky. "I've had a bit of an…adventure."

He runs a hand through his hair, still damp with sweat from his encounter with you. His gaze lingers on the door to his cabin, the grin never leaving his face.

The crew exchanges glances, whispers of speculation passing among them. They know better than to pry into the Capitán's personal matters, but the change in his demeanor is palpable.

Usually, he's a man of few words and fewer smiles, his mood as tempestuous as the seas they sail.

But tonight, there's a lightness to him, a hint of amusement that makes the air around him crackle with a tension none of them dare to name.

[neopronouns]

colorgenders inspired by the results of a “What is your Aura” quiz ((https://)uquiz(.)com/quiz/pxTx2D/what-color-is-your-aura):

Sky: short poems, teacups, clear skies, diaries, dripping icicles, tears, tennis shoes.

Honeysuckle: succulents, key lime, glow-in-the-dark stars, blown glass, honeydew, garter snakes, notes in bottles.

Seafoam: clear water, milkshakes, crystals, agave, candy dishes, converse, seashells.

Yellow: daisies, road signs, bumblebees, lemon meringue, bicycles, polaroids, awnings.

Hickory: felled oak, brass, sunken ships, olive pits, graphic shirts, splinters, dark room.

Orange: guitars, fanta bottles, sunglasses, orange peels, butterflies, popsicles, paper lanterns.

Sage: herb clippings, matcha, bullet journals, mini backpacks, needle felts, pistachio, laptop stickers.

Teal: dyed hair, scales, doc martens, aurora borealis, stormy seas, kingfishers, agate. 

Royal (blue): crown jewels, portraits, satin chairs, masquerades, nebulas, betta fish, secrets.

Gold: lion statues, coins, gold leafing, bound books, goldfinches, crowns, heart lockets. 

Crimson: rose vines, blood, apples, velvet, sharp nails, galaxies, dripping jewellery.

Navy: brush strokes, suit jackets, midnight, comforters, star gazing, arctic waters, starlings.

Forest: fern leaves, greenhouses, cloaks, bookstores, pine trees, chokers, snake scales. 

honey: friendship bracelets, beehives, school buses, children's books, flower petals, honeyed toast, polaroids. 

Ashen: old newspapers, smoke, quiet cities, pale cheeks, pebbles, chalk, the clouded moon.

Garnet: Brooches, anthologies, stained glass, leaves, dining chairs, long robes, curtains.

Chiffon: stone walls, sweaters, moths, dusty lace, animal tracks, incense, throw pillows.

Red: leather jackets, cherries, bruised knuckles, roses, lipstick, fast cars, rose petals.

Magenta: splattered paint, glitter, childhood friends, neon, pleather, dance floors, crystals.

Amaranth: bundled flowers, ribbon, merlot, overcoats, gemstones, lipstick prints, red velvet.

Periwinkle: knit hats, candies, tiny flowers, beads, teacups, washi tape, clouds.

Jade: islands, sketchbooks, rainy windows, pendants, puzzle pieces, tree frogs, sea glass.

Pink: cupcakes, sunglasses, pink sands, starbursts, pinky promises, flower crowns, ice cream.

Rose: lace, blown kisses, milk tea, paper fans, pillows, ballet slippers, fairy wings.

Amethyst: earrings, violet corts, parades, gemstones, insect wings, grape bushels, outer space.

Noir: drops of ink, eyeliner, crows, spiders, charcoal, painted nails, the night.

Cream: dandelions, marble, bottled coffee, hair ties, banana cream, bedsheets, sketches. 

Beige: lattes, dry fields, footprints, easels, cat fur, pottery, fresh-baked cookies.

Pearl: abalone, perfume bottles, chandeliers, tulle, ball jointed dolls, satin, paint palettes. 

Bronze: leather books, cowboy hats, foxes, candle jars, sword hilts, cobblestone streets, hourglasses

Amber: autumn days, freckles, torches, cabins, fossils, unbrushed hair, enamel pins.

Fire: sunrises, woven blankets, campfires, tigers, whiskey, monarchs, road trips.

Purple: geodes, club lights, ferris wheels, sunglasses, hummingbirds, eyeshadow, outer space. 

Blush: lollipops, warm cheeks, lip gloss, flowers, flamingo feathers, painted nails, heart glasses.

finally done with all of these — they're queued!

[redcandle17]

Cora Reilly mafia romance universe (part 1)

Cora Reilly’s Born In Blood series, its Camorra Chronicles sequel, and the next generation sequel series Sins of the Father are so damn good. The romances between most of the couples are wonderful and most of the sibling relationships are awesome too. 

Born In Blood Mafia Chronicles

- #1 Bound by Honor - first two months of Luca Vitiello’s and Aria Scuderi’s arranged marriage. Luca is the heir to and eventual leader of the mafia in New York.

- #0 Luca Vitiello - Luca’s POV of Bound by Honor, written a couple of years after the start of the series. 

- #2 Bound by Duty - first year of Dante Cavallaro’s marriage to his second wife Valentina Aresco. Dante is the head of the mafia in Chicago. He’s 35 when he marries 23 year old Val. 

- #3 Bound by Hatred - Gianna Scuderi, Aria’s sister, runs away before her arranged marriage to Matteo Vitiello, Luca’s brother, despite the fact that they like each other and made out at Aria’s and Luca’s wedding. He chases after her for months, catches her, and they marry.

- #4 Bound by Temptation - Lily, Aria’s youngest sister, and Aria’s bodyguard Romero Cancio fall in love and have to overcome the marriage her father arranged for her to a man his age.

- #5 Bound by Vengeance - If this series was a TV show, this novel would be the episode that’s really a pilot for a spin-off series. Cara’s father, a high-ranking mobster, betrayed and stole from the head of the Las Vegas mafia. Cara is given to their enforcer Growl, as a deterrent to other mafia men. 

- #6 Bound by Love - Aria’s and Luca’s story continues from after their first novel to the next 10 years of their lives together. 

- #7 Bound by the Past - Dante’s past and his and Valentina’s experiences after the first year of their marriage.

- Bound By Blood Anthology - contains a novella about Matteo & Gianna, and short stories about Aria & Luca, Lily & Romero, and Growl & Cara.

Camorra Chronicles

- #1 Twisted Loyalties - Fabiano Scuderi (younger brother of Aria, Gianna, and Lily, and who is now the enforcer for the mafia in Las Vegas) meets and falls in love with Leona, a nice but destitute girl who knows nothing about the mob.

- #2 Twisted Emotions - Nino Falcone (second in command to his brother Remo) considers himself a sociopath and does not feel. He’s cold and clinical and speaks and thinks like a robot. Until his arranged marriage to Luca’s cousin Kiara Vitiello. Kiara is severely traumatized from being raped by an uncle at age 13 and being emotionally neglected by her family before and after. Nino is super gentle and kind to her, and they fall in love with each other, with Nino eventually admitting that he’s *feeling emotions* for the first time since his childhood. 

- #3 Twisted Pride - Remo Falcone (head of the Las Vegas mafia and aged 24 at the time) kidnaps Serafina (aged 19 and niece of Dante, the head of the Chicago mafia) on her way to her wedding for an arranged marriage. He keeps her captive for two months, psychologically torturing Dante and his family with phone calls, photos, and letters that make them believe Serafina is being raped and tortured. In reality, Remo thinks rape is too easy and likes a challenge, so he sets out to seduce Serafina into willingly having sex with him.

- #4 Twisted Bonds - Kiara wants kids but she and Nino have trouble conceiving. It covers everything after Twisted Emotions, during Twisted Pride, and a couple of years afterwards from their POVs. 

-#5 Twisted Hearts - Savio Falcone’s life is devoted to fighting and fucking. Gemma, his best friend’s younger sister, has been infatuated with him since the day they met when she was 10 and he was 14. She’s had a very religious conservative upbringing and she’s not only saving sex for marriage, she expects her first kiss to happen on her wedding day after saying ‘I do’ while Savio is in his own words a “man whore” who has sex with any girl who’ll have him. 

-#6 Twisted Cravings - Adamo is the youngest of the four Falcone brothers. He’s not as “dark” as his brothers and wants to be a nice guy. He’s wanted love and monogamy since was a kid. He loves car racing and devotes himself to illegal street racing, avoiding mafia activities he finds distasteful. Dinara, daughter of the head of the Russian mafia in Chicago, saunters into his world as a fellow street racer and Adamo quickly falls in love. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[briankeene]

2023 Splatterpunk Awards Final Ballot

For Immediate Release Wrath James White and Brian Keene are pleased to announce the final ballot for the 2023 Splatterpunk Awards, honoring superior achievement in the literary subgenres of Splatterpunk and Extreme Horror fiction published in 2022, as well as the sixth recipient of the J.F. Gonzalez Lifetime Achievement Award, and the recommendation process for the coming year.

The nominees are as follows:

BEST NOVEL*

-- Playground by Aron Beauregard (Independently Published)

 -- The Television by Edward Lee (Madness Heart Press)

 -- Faces of Beth by Carver Pike (Independently Published)

 -- Last of the Ravagers by Bryan Smith (Thunderstorm Books / Death’s Head Press)

 -- Mastodon by Steve Stred (Black Void Publishing)

 -- Ex-Boogeyman (Slasher vs The Remake) by Kristopher Triana (Bad Dream Books / Thunderstorm Books)

 BEST NOVELLA

 -- Charcoal by Garrett Cook (Clash Books) 

 -- Grandpappy by Patrick C. Harrison III (Independently Published)

 -- Mr. Tilling’s Basement by Edward Lee (Deadite Press)

 -- #thighgap by Chandler Morrison (Cemetery Gates Media)

 -- Plastic Monsters by Daniel J. Volpe (Independently Published)

 BEST SHORT STORY

-- “Just Another Bloodbath at Camp Woe-Be-Gone” by R.J. Benetti (Independently Published)

 -- “Of The Worm” by Ryan Harding (from Splatterpunk Zine issue 13)

 -- “My Chopping List” by Stephen Kozeniewski (from Counting Bodies Like Sheep, The Evil Cookie Publishing)

 -- “Gutted” by Bracken MacLeod (from Splatterpunk Zine issue 13)

 -- “Jinx” by Bridgett Nelson (from A Bouquet of Viscera)

BEST COLLECTION

 -- Always Listen To Her Hurt: Collected Works by Kenzie Jennings (Blistered Siren Press)

 -- Mr. Tilling’s Basement and Other Stories by Edward Lee (Deadite Press)

 -- Horrorsmut by Christine Morgan (The Evil Cookie Publishing)

 -- A Bouquet of Viscera by Bridgett Nelson (Independently Published)

 -- Pornography For the End of the World by Brendan Vidito (Weirdpunk Books)

BEST ANTHOLOGY

 -- Human Monsters edited by Sadie Hartmann and Ashley Sawyers (Dark Matter Ink)

 -- Camp Slasher Lake, Volume 1 edited by D.W. Hitz and Candace Nola (Fedowar Press)

 -- Counting Bodies Like Sheep edited by K. Trap Jones (The Evil Cookie Publishing)

 -- Call Me Hoop edited by SC Mendes & Lucy Leitner, created by Drew Stepek (Blood Bound Books)

 -- Czech Extreme edited by Lisa Lee Tone (Madness Heart Press)

J. F. GONZALEZ LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD**

 -- Monica J. O’Rourke

The final ballot is composed of top recommendations from readers, critics, and the general public and then voted on by our panel of six judges. The sixth annual Splatterpunk Awards will take place at KillerCon in Austin, Texas August 12th. For more details, visit here. 

The recommendation process for next year’s ballot is now open to readers, critics, and the general public. Eligible works must be first published in 2023, and must meet the definitions of either Splatterpunk or Extreme Horror. Email recommendations to splatterpunkawards@gmail.com. The recommendation window will close at 11:59pm (EST) on December 31, 2023. THERE WILL BE NO EXTENSIONS. Thank you for your attention in this matter.

With love and respect,

Wrath James White and Brian Keene, Splatterpunk Award cofounders.

* Tie category

** The previous J. F. Gonzalez Lifetime Achievement Award recipients are David J. Schow, David G. Barnett, Edward Lee, John Skipp, and Clive Barker.

[frighteneddraz]

Anthology of Arik 2

Triggers: Self-Harm and suicidal thoughts --------------- Arik had finally arrived at his destination, as always, the journey had been long and tiring. He had already reunited with Cecil 2 months prior, and had celebrated their reunion hard, feasting and drinking and overall living it up with his old friend and ally. While there he learned of what became of the other members of their band of weirdos, apparently Bliss, the dryad druid had yet to reform in her tree, though Cecil assured Arik that “Zevikial is sure that will happen… eventually,” which, bluntly, only raised more questions than answers. Who the hell is Zevekial and why is he an authority on matters like this? Why would she reform in her tree if she died, wouldn’t her tree have, logically, just died with her? How long does it take to regrow a dryad body from a tree? Cecil, though Arik loved him dearly, was not all that bright (despite the fact that his armor glowed a blinding white) and could not answer even the first question in a satisfactory way. The only answer Cecil gave was “Oh, he’s a smart guy” and that was that. 

The final party member was Reina, whom Arik had once sold his soul to resurrect, the aasimar cleric. One whom Arik had bore a rather terrible crush on while they journeyed together. Evidently, last Cecil had heard, she was with “some guy named Rugalia the Terrible” and was acting as his personal doctor. Rugalia was not a name Arik recognized, but it didn’t take much to find out who he was, evidently he was a rather infamous warlord on the eastern continent of Celtolan, renowned the world over for his inhuman strength and brutality. Arik would likely have questioned why Reina was working alongside him, but given Arik’s own temperament, it would be hypocrisy of the highest order. So it was, Arik set out to find one of the few people in this world he called friend.

Arriving at Rugalia’s encampment, Arik felt dozens of eyes on him and for the first time in a long while, Arik felt the twinge of fear that comes from vulnerability. He was once, so recently, a god, but no longer. Though he remained inhumanly strong and still healed from wounds impossibly fast making him practically immortal provided the wounds themselves weren’t immediately lethal, his recently obtained freedom had come at the cost of his once legendary battle prowess. All skills and abilities he had gained as a result of training were lost to him when he drank the blood that freed his soul from the God he once so foolishly bound it to. He had regained some of the skill he had lost in his journey to get here, but even so, he was practically a novice still. While his natural abilities would mean most of these men were no threat to him individually, he was under no delusions that he would be able to beat even a handful, even his healing needed a degree of control to allow him to survive mortal wounds, after all, control Arik no longer possessed.

The encampment itself was rather incredible, tents and banners fluttering in the wind of the grasslands it had been set up in were rather typical, from Arik’s own time as a soldier, its sheer scale however, granting it a degree of majesty on its own. The warlord Rugalia’s forces were so extensive that he needed to forgo defensive positioning entirely in order to get his men to set up camp. By Arik’s best reckoning, there were well over 100,000 men here, with livestock roaming around by the thousands. Dozens of stable tents filled with dozens of horses each. Indeed, Arik considered that calling Rugalia a warlord was, while technically accurate, like saying that a raging inferno ravaging a forest, simply, a fire. It felt like a disservice to the sheer scale of the military force that Rugalia had assembled to call him “a warlord”, and Arik recognized he would do well to respect that if he wanted to survive his journey.

Finding the tent he needed was surprisingly difficult, Rugalia did not have any larger living quarters than any of his men, and no one in the camp seemed to know which tent was his. In fact, Arik may well never have found the tent he sought were it not for the fact that he bumped into a man, not for the first time since his arrival, who did not move when Arik bumped him. Indeed, in a rather unexpected twist for the well over 6 foot tall goliath that was Arik, Arik wound up finding himself knocked clean on his ass. Looking up, Arik took in a man taller even than him, standing around 7 feet tall and nearly as broad, shirtless with rippling muscle belying strength equal to or greater than Arik’s own, golden skin riddled with battle scars, and a greataxe slung over one shoulder, the man resembled for all the world the picture of a barbarian king. Dark eyes under dark brows under dark hair with a face that could well have been shaped in bronze. Arik knew immediately, this was Rugalia the Terrible, the man who had conquered half the continent in but a couple of years.

The first thing Rugalia the Terrible did was grab Arik and bring him effortlessly to his feet. 

The first thing Rugalia the Terrible said was “Sorry about that, didn’t see you there, are you alright?”

Arik was dumbfounded. He opened his mouth, but no words escaped his parted lips. Arik was certain, this was Rugalia, the descriptions he had heard made him sure of it, but… Why was a bloodthirsty warlord bent on conquering the continent through violent devastation so nice? It truly boggled the mind, the juxtaposition of what Arik had been told vs the man who was now talking to him. Oh no… he’s still talking. What is he saying? Arik thought in a panic.

“Hmm, well, you look fine, but the fact you aren’t saying anything has me concerned, follow me, I’ll bring you to the medical tent”

Arik followed wordlessly, not that he didn’t try to say something, but no matter how hard he tried, Arik could not get past the cognitive dissonance of what was transpiring. Arik had not been this confused since meeting Cecil for the first time, and just as the confusion was wearing off, they arrived. Arik’s first words to what some believed was the most powerful warlord in the world were “Uhhh… Thanks” as the giant lumbered away.

Snapping out of it, Arik finally opened the medical tent, it was emptier than Arik expected, though, given Reina’s magic, Arik supposed that wasn’t all too surprising. Sitting on a wooden stool was Reina, nearly as small as Rugalia was large, at barely 5 feet tall, Reina’s blonde hair and porcelain skin shone in the light from outside, her blue eyes flicking up to regard Arik. He hadn’t been sure what he expected upon coming here, but it wasn’t what he got.

“Oh, you’re alive.” Reina said flatly. She regarded Arik the way someone might regard the fly that landed in their soup, her disdain palpable “Well, what do you want?”

Arik blinked. He found himself, once more, at a loss for words. So instead of speaking, Arik simply took out the envelope with the letter from Cecil, and passed it to Reina.

“Ah, you’re acting as a messenger now? Well then, you’re welcome to stay in the camp, I will send for you when I have written my own correspondence in kind.”

Arik simply stared at Reina blankly, and finally said “I… came to tell you that I obtained my freedom, actually. That was just a favor to Cecil”

“Ah, well… you told me. Is that all?”

Arik felt his temper flaring, “Do I not warrant even a ‘nice to see you’ or ‘glad you managed to escape eternal servitude to Dezmond’?” Arik asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

“What do you want, Arik? Do you want me to jump for joy because you managed to weasel your way out of the consequences of selling your soul? Something I’m still baffled by to this day actually. I’ve made it abundantly clear, I find you annoying at best. Did you think I was going to run into your arms now that you’re free?”

Arik could feel his anger getting the better of him, hear the Beast’s voice in the back of his mind urging him to kill her. Instead Arik simply said “You want to know why I sold my soul you icy bitch? Because, I was literally deranged, and had just watched all of my friends and allies in the world be crushed by a fucking boat. I sold my soul for you and Bliss and Cecil.” Reina continued staring at him, her gaze remaining cold as the winterlands of Arik’s birth before saying something would shatter Arik utterly.  “Why the fuck should I care, I didn’t ask you to do that, I don’t owe you anything. Leave now before I have my fiance crush you like the sniveling little worm you are. We traveled together, you sold your soul and then died. We are not, nor have we ever been, anything other than business associates.”

Even Arik’s anger cooled with the finality of that statement. “You… really thought that little of me? Even after we fought and traveled together for months?”

“Of course, you’re a rabid animal. You kill, and destroy and hate and that’s all you do. It’s all you know how to do. If I ever felt anything for you aside from contempt or apathy, it was pity.” Reina’s gaze softened for the first time. “I don’t care about you Arik, but even I will admit, it’s deeply sad that you somehow harbored the delusion that I did. You’re still welcome to stay in camp for the next few days. I doubt if my fiance would have the heart to turn away a broken shell such as yourself, but I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.”

Arik just left after that. He could take pain easily, his pain tolerance was greater even than his physical might, but… This felt different. He was less used to this. It didn’t hurt. Indeed, it was like… a numbness in the pit of his stomach. An emptiness. Arik simply walked, and as he walked he took out a dagger and plunged it into his thigh. It didn’t hurt enough to fill the emptiness. So he took out another and stabbed it into his abdomen. It still didn’t hurt enough to fill the emptiness. He considered running himself through with his greatsword… but it was unlikely that would fill the emptiness either, and Arik did not wish for death. He had things he needed to do yet, after all, so instead he just walked with those daggers plunged into his body. Walked until he collapsed to the ground, unable to move, and finally the emptiness he felt was filled by the familiar anguish of his nightmares.

[doomedandstoned]

They Watch Us From The Moon Drop Far-Out Single Ahead of New LP

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

For some time now, I've been starting my mornings with heavy riffs and old comic books from The Golden Age. Tales from the Crypt, Mystical Tales, Mystery Tales, Tales of the Unexpected, and (my most recent find) Strange Tales of the Unusual. There's just something about the simplicity, sincerity, and wisdom of those old anthology stories that puts me in a good mood.

A band suited for the same spirit of adventure is THEY WATCH US FROM THE MOON. Like Clark Kent's humble origins in Kansas farmland, this six-piece wonder hails from Lawrence, KS, founded in 2018.

Their sound, rooted in the Black Sabbath tradition, is tinged with the surprising and otherworldly. For various songs male and female voices unify or sing interchangeably, whilst instruments weave together dreamy doom metal with blues-hued stoner and space rock, making them a veritable chorus of doom.

When we last left They Watch Us From The Moon, they had just released the magical track "Return To Earth". Now, as we continue with our adventures with the spaced-out crew, we find them reaching a new juncture: "MOAB."

"Mother Of All Bastards" was written as a reflection of that in our times. The lyrical imagery paints a very dower picture of a future yet to come and our inability to stop it. Alien abduction, bases on the Moon, and all things Sci-Fi weave through the entire album. As with all science fiction, the story leads into a conversation about what path of destruction humans put themselves on to arrive to the future in such a fantastical way.

It's one of my favorite tracks so far from the They Watch Us From The Moon, beginning with that gorgeous, soulful low-end riff that accompanies earnest angelic harmonies. This six-member powerhouse, now in year 5 as a band, absolutely needs to be seen on stages around the world.

"MOAB" is track three on the upcoming full-length album, 'Cosmic Chronicles: Act 1, The Ascension' (2023), which releases May 12th on New Heavy Sounds (pre-order here). Stick this on a playlist with Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, MWWB, Church of the Cosmic Skull, and Old Blood.

Give ear...

New Heavy Sounds · They Watch Us From The Moon: MOAB

SOME BUZZ

Hailing from Kansas, They Watch Us From The Moon have landed to present their first magnum opus Cosmic Chronicles: Act 1, The Ascension will release via New Heavy Sounds on May 12th, 2023.

TWUFTM are a band that has a concept behind the groove. Sci-fi space opera, a love for Bowie and Queen, brought to the fore visually, in their mashing of comic book narratives and Funkadelic style alter ego’s. TWUFTM is truly an immersive experience on every level. Cosmic Chronicles: Act 1, The Ascension is a space opera for heavy psych doommers and shoegazers alike. This is something new within heavy psychedelics, in fact it’s something new anywhere.

"On The Fields Of The Moon" is like fresh oxygen in bright sunlight - chiming lead guitars and angelic twin vocals (almost like Fleetwood Mac … imagine that) melodies draw you in like gravity itself. Complete with a space-bound chorus and a ripping guitar only 250 seconds into our flight. It sets the tone perfectly. "Space Angel" is literally that. The band's angels Luna and Nova are simply mesmerising, weaving through the heaviest of space-kraut riff grooves.

With "MOAB", the mood is darkening. 'Days of destruction, days of disease' is a warning for our times. The pace has slowed, it’s black and doom laden, yet our vocal angels still give us reason for optimism. And there, fellow travelers, we suggest that you take a moment to take in what you’ve just heard, and imbibe whatever is your drug of choice before tackling the final two ten-minute space flights. "Creeper AD" is a psychedelic trip to lose yourself in. Shifting chord progressions, cool guitar breaks and again, those vocal harmonies, entwined and bewitching. "Return To Earth" does just that, and is pretty much the summation of what we have experienced. An epic, gorgeous space symphony.

Cosmic Chronicles contains five immense tracks chock full of weight and brimming with melody. Clocking in at around 44 minutes, Cosmic Chronicles: Act 1, The Ascension never outstays its welcome. In our opinion, it’s an almost frighteningly impressive, opening offering. Welcome to the (other) world of They Watch It From The Moon. Watch the skies.

Follow The Band

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[life-of-an-asexual]

5.14.24

Aces in Love by Elin Annalise = adult, romance; asexual MCs

Alexey Dyed in Red by A.M. Valenza = adult, urban fantasy; asexual LI, m/m/m romance

Alonso Munich is Now Dead by S. Gates = adult, urban fantasy; asexual MC in a strong platonic relationship with a trans woman, mystery with necromancy and vampires

Baker Thief by Claudie Aresenault = adult, urban fantasy; biromantic demisexual MC, bigender alloaro MC, strong platonic relationship, queernormative setting, subverting romance tropes

Blood-Bound by Kaija Rayne = adult, urban fantasy; gray-aromantic asexual MC, welsh folklore

Eidolon by E.S. Yu = adult, science fiction; asexual MC, light m/m romance, cyborg assassin, enemies-to-lovers

Fallen Thorns by Harvey Oliver Baxter = adult/new adult, urban fantasy; aroace MC, various other rep, vampires

For Better or Worse by R. Cooper = adult, romance; demisexual MC, m/m romance, firefighters

Heartsong by TJ Klune = adult, romance; asexual MC in an m/m romance, werewolves (part of the Green Creek series)

The Life and Death of Eli & Jay by Francis Gideon - adult/new adult?, romance; asexual MC, m/m romance, themes self-discovery

Liminal Hearts by Dawn R. Schuldenfrei = adult, urban fantasy; asexual MC, f/f romance with a unicorn, mystery

Luvian Code by Hailey Gonzalez = adult, fantasy; aromantic MC, other aro and ace rep, an anti-amatonormative take on Cupids

Margins and Murmurations by Otter Liefe = adult, dystopia; aromantic transfem MC in a long-term platonic relationship, themes of liberation

Moonshine by Jasmine Gower = adult, historical fantasy; bisexual aromantic secondary character, various other rep, themes of found family

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells = adult, science fiction; sex- and romance-averse robot MC in a strong platonic relationship, themes of personhood and self-determination

Of the Wild by E. Wambheim = adult, romance; asexual MC, trans LI, fey urban fantasy, cozy mystery

Open Skies by Yolande Kleinn = adult, science fiction; an aroace MC, queerplatonic relationship?

Play It Again by Aidan wayne = adult, romance; bi jewish blind MC, gay ace LI, youtuber m/m romance

Shape Shifter Chronicles by Lauren Jankowski = adult, urban fantasy; several aspec characters (author is aroace)

Small Gods of Calamity by Sam Kyung Yoo = adult, urban fantasy; bi asexual MC, mystery

Socially Orcward by Lisa Henry = adult, fantasy; ace4ace m/m romance

To Terminator, With Love by Wes Kennedy = new adult, science fiction; asexual MC, m/m romance, robots

Uncommon Tidy Poltergeists by Angel Martinez = adult, romance; gay asexual MC, m/m romance, urban fantasy

Welcome to Your Afterlife by Stephanie Rabig = adult, romance; asexual MC, f/f romance with bisexual LI

Winterbourne's Daughter by Stephanie Rabig = adult, fantasy; asexual MC in a polyamorous romance, queernormative setting, Snow White retelling

The Wolf Among the Wild Hunt by Merc Fenn Wolfmoor = adult, horror fantasy; aroace4aroace queerplatonic partnership, various other rep, werewolves

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Amazing Ace, Awesome Aro: An Illustrated Exploration by Victoria Barron = non-fiction, educational; a comprehensive overview of the aspec community

It's Just Us Here by Christopher X. Sullivan = adult, memoir; the saga of an asexual man who falls in love with a male model

Warrior edited by Antonica Eikli = anthology, sci fi/fantasy; various queer rep including aro and ace

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A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcy Little Badger - young adult, magical realism; asexual MC (author of Elatsoe)

The Black Veins by Ashia Monet = young adult, urban fantasy; an asexual MC, various other rep, found family adventure

Darling by K. Ancrum = young adult, urban fantasy; asexual LI, various other queer rep, Peter Pan retelling

Daughter of the Burning City by Amanda Foody = young adult, fantasy; ace-spec/demi LI, various other rep, magical mystery

Dear Wendy by Ann Zhao = young/new adult, contemporary; two aroace MCs who develop a strong platonic relationship

Endless Days of Summer by Stacy O'Steen = young/new adult, contemporary; asexual MC, f/f romance, self-discovery

Fairy Roots by Alicia L. Wright = young/new adult, fantasy; demisexual MC, self-discovery and romance

The Heartbreak Bakery by A.R. Capetta = young adult, romance; demisexual trans LI, aroace side character, various other queer rep including agender MC, magical realism with baking

Jensen in the Multiverse by Hailey Gonzalez = young adult, urban fantasy; aroace MC

Into the Blue by Pene Henson = young/new adult, romance; ace/demi MC, m/m friends-to-lovers romance, themes of found family

The Last Chronomancer by Reilyn J. Hardy = young adult, fantasy; aroace MC, strong platonic relationship, various other rep

Royal Rescue by A. Alex Logan = young adult, fantasy; aroace MC, queerplatonic relationship, dragons

Skybound Series by Alex London = young adult, fantasy; an aroace MC

The Spy with the Red Balloon by Katherine Locke = young adult, historical fantasy; demisexual MC in an m/m romance, strong sibling relationship (this book is a sequel to The Girl with the Red Balloon)

Tell Me How It Ends by Quinton Li = young adult, fantasy; aroace non-binary secondary MC

ace and aro books

went on a deep dive to find some aspec rep for myself and this is some of what i came up with. not official recommendations since i haven't read most of them, but they exist and i've put several of them on my own TBR list. these are all books i haven't seen on other rec lists, and i've done my best to confirm that the rep is aspec

if any of y'all have read these, feel free to share your thoughts or correct me if i've gotten something wrong

(organized alphabetically by title and separated by age demographic; mixed genres; subject to being updated)

(ftr just because an author is not specified to be ace or aro does not necessarily mean they are allo; i include that info if i happen to come across it, but i am not going out of my way to track down the identities of every single author)

(some of these books contain themes or scenarios that may be triggering for some readers; i have only done research to ascertain the ace/aro rep; if you find certain topics upsetting to read, it is your responsibility to do the research necessary to determine if a book is appropriate for you and to proceed into a story at your own discretion)

updated 5.9.24

~Mod Q

A Milky Way Home by Hsinju Chen = adult, romance; transmasc/cis f biace4panace romance, described as low heat (author is nonbinary)

A Pale Light in the Black by K.B. Wagers = adult, science fiction; asexual MC, various other rep, coast guard in space

Alchemy by Marie S. Crosswell = adult, mystery; asexual lesbian MC, genderbent Sherlock

All the Wrong Places by Ann Gallagher = adult, romance; ace4ace m/m romance, identity discovery

An Accident of Stars by Foz Meadows = adult, fantasy; allosexual aromantic MC in a poly relationship

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon = adult, science fiction; aroace side character, intersex MC, themes of oppression and racism

Blank Spaces & Finding Your Feet by Cass Lennox = adult, romance; both feature asexual MCs (second one features a trans LI)

The Bone People by Keri Hulme = adult, magical realism; aroace MC, themes of family and identity, deals with child abuse

The Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia = adult, fantasy; aroace nonbinary MC, queernormative world-building

Catch Lili Too by Sophie Whittemore = adult, fantasy; asexual non-human MC, paranormal murder mystery

Chosen. Again. by J. Emery = adult, fantasy; asexual MC, saves the fantasy world as a teen then has to do it again as an adult

The Circus Infinite by Khan Wong = adult, sci fi-fantasy; asexual MC and found family dynamic

City of Strife by Claudie Arseneault = adult, fantasy; various rep including aspec (author is acearospec)

Coffee Cake by Michaela Grey = adult, romance; asexual MC, m/m relationship, mystery elements

The Crows by C.M. Rosens = adult, horror; ace (and aro?) major character, fucked up eldritch horror

Cupid Calling by Viano Oniomoh = adult, romance; demisexual biromantic MC, m/m romance, dating show setting, super fluffy

The Cybernetic Tea Shop by Meredith Katz = adult, science fiction; sapphic ace MC with a robot LI

Devon's Island by Si Clarke = adult, science fiction; aroace POV character, queernormative worldbuilding, various other rep

Earthflown by Frances Wren = adult, science fiction; ace-spec MC, m/m romance, an urban fantasy climate change apocalypse story

Eight Kinky Nights by Xan West = adult, romance; gray-ace MC, butch4femme friends-to-lovers, various other rep

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace = adult, science fiction; aroace MC, dystopia, focus on platonic relationships (author is aroace)

From the Dark We Came by J. Emery = adult, paranormal; demisexual MC, m/m romance, vampires

The Heartbreak Handshake by J.R. Hart = adult, romance; asexual MC with a non-binary LI, fully chaste (author is autistic, adhd, and nonbinary)

How Not to Summon Your True Love by Sasha L. Miller = adult, romance; ace MC and ace LI, paranormal elements

Learning Curves by Ceillie Simkiss = adult, romance; asexual MC in an f/f relationship

Never Been Kissed by Timothy Janovsky = adult, romance; demisexual MC, m/m relationship, mistakenly sent love confessions

Perfect Rhythm by Jae = adult, romance; rural lesbian romance with an asexual LI

Poisoned Primrose by Dahlia Donovan = adult, mystery; asexual autistic MC, middle-aged protagonist (author is autistic)

Rising from Ash by Jax Meyer = adult, romance; asexual MC in an f/f romance

The Romantic Agenda by Claire Kann = adult, romance; asexual MC, fake-dating (author of Let's Talk About Love)

Second Chance by Chelsea M. Cameron = adult/new adult, romance; demi bi MC in an f/f relationship, exes-to-lovers

Soft on Soft by Mina Waheed = adult, romance; demisexual MC in an f/f romance, pure fluff

Squared Away by Annabeth Albert = adult, romance; gray-a/demi MC, m/m romance with child acquisition

Stake Sauce: The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No Really by RoAnna Sylver = adult, paranormal; gray-a MC, deals with trauma

That Kind of Guy by Talia Hibbert = adult, romance; demisexual MC, fake-dating, m/f age gap romance

Thaw by Elyse Springer = adult, romance; asexual MC, an opposites-attract f/f romance

To Be Taught, If Fortunate by Becky Chambers = adult, science fiction; multiple ace characters, various other rep, space travel

The Trouble by Daria Defore = adult/new adult, romance?; gay aromantic MC, college setting

Upside Down by N.R. Walker = adult, romance; ace4ace m/m romance

Valentine by Julie Mannino = adult, romance; sex-averse ace MC, sexless kinky m/m relationship

We Go Forward by Alison Evans = adult, contemporary; aroace MC, centralized friendship

Werecockroach by Polenth Blake = adult, science fiction; aroace MC, deals with mental disability, also there are aliens

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Common Bonds = anthology, speculative fiction; stories that highlight aromanticism and focus on platonic relationships

Goddess of the Hunt by Shelby Eileen = poetry, mythology; an exploration of Artemis being aroace

Queerly Loving = anthology, various genres; asexual and aromantic rep, various other rep including trans, polyamorous, and platonic relationships

~

A Dark and Starless Forest by Sarah Hollowell = young adult, paranormal; various rep including ace-spec, chosen family dynamic

Aces Wild: A Heist by Amanda DeWitt = young adult, thriller/mystery; several asexual characters

Archivist Wasp by Nicole Kornher-Stace = young adult, science fiction; aroace MC (according to author)

The Art of Saving the World by Corrine Duyvis = young adult, science fiction; asexual MC

Before I Let Go by Marieke Nijkamp = young adult, mystery; asexual (and aro?) MC

Belle Revolte by Linsey Millery = young adult, fantasy; biromantic ace MC in an f/f romance

Beneath the Citadel by Destiny Soria = young adult, fantasy; major ace character, various other rep, centralized platonic relationship

Beyond the Black Door by A.M. Strickland = young adult, fantasy; asexual MC (demi-biromantic according to author)

Clariel by Garth Nix = young adult, fantasy; asexual MC, prequel to the Old Kingdom series

Dare Mighty Things by Heather Kaczynski = young adult, science fiction; asexual (and arospec?) MC

The Facts and Legends of Callie Catwell by Sophia DeRise = young adult, fantasy; asexual MC with lesbian LI

Fire Becomes Her by Rosiee Thor = young adult, fantasy; several aspec characters

Forward March by Skye Quinlan = young adult, contemporary; asexual lesbian MC

Fourth World by Lyssa Chiavari = young adult, science fiction; demisexual MC and asexual MC (author is aroace)

From Under the Mountain by C.M. Spivey = young adult, fantasy; demisexual lesbian MC, aspec secondary characters

Good Angel by A.M. Blaushild = young adult, graphic novel; angel characters where asexual, aromantic, and agender are the assumed default but is explored with nuance

Help Wanted by J. Emery = young/new adult, fantasy; questioning aspec MC (and gender questioning)

Hullmetal Girls by Emily Skrutskie = young adult, science fiction; aroace MC, various other rep

Immoral Code by Lillian Clark = young adult, contemporary; asexual POV character, friendship dynamic with "fuck the rich" vibes

Island of Exiles by Erica Cameron = young adult, fantasy; asexual (secondary?) character, various other rep including intersex

It Sounds Like This by Anna Meriano = young adult, contemporary; asexual-questioning MC, gray-a side character, deals with a toxic friendship

The Last 8 by Laura Pohl = young adult, science fiction; aromantic MC, alien invasion apocalypse

Little Black Bird by Anna Kirchner = young adult, fantasy; questioning aspec character

Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee = young adult, romance; trans male MC with asexual LI, m/m romance, fake dating

Meet You By Hachiko by Loren Greene = young adult, contemporary; aroace-spec MC, focus on friendship

Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko = young adult, fantasy; asexual secondary character, centralized platonic relationship

The Reckless Kind by Carly Heath = young adult, historical; asexual MC, emphasized friendship, all main characters are also disabled

The Rhythm of My Soul by Elin Dyer = young adult, mystery; aroace MC, ballet academy setting

Running with the Pack by A.M. Burns and Caitlin Ricci = young adult, contemporary; ace LI, polyamorous romance

Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand = young adult, horror; asexual POV character (all MCs are also sapphic), themes of grief, paranormal elements

Sea Foam and Silence & The Ice Princess's Fair Illusion by S.L. Dove Cooper = young adult, fairy tale; queerplatonic retellings in verse

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow = young adult, science fiction; demisexual (biromantic) MC, post-alien invasion dystopia

Summer Bird Blue by Akemi Dawn Bowman = young adult, contemporary; asexual (and aro?) MC, deals with family death

The Summer of Bitter and Sweet by Jen Ferguson = young adult, contemporary; asexual MC, themes of family trauma and multiracial identity

Switchback by Danika Stone = young adult, thriller; aroace MC, survivalist situations

Tarnished Are the Stars by Rosiee Thor = young adult, steampunk; aroace MC, various other rep, cat-and-mouse game

That's Not What Happened by Kody Keplinger = young adult, contemporary; asexual MC, deals with the aftermath of a school shooting

This Golden Flame by Emily Victoria = young adult, fantasy; aroace MC (author is aroace)

Two Dark Moons by Avi Silver = young adult, fantasy; aromantic (and ace?) MC, f/nb queerplatonic relationship

Vanilla by Billy Merrell = young adult, contemporary; asexual MC, m/m relationship, coming-of-age

What We Devour by Linsey Miller = young adult, fantasy; asexual MC (biromantic according to author)

Wren Martin Ruins It All by Amanda DeWitt = young adult, contemporary; asexual MC

~

A-Okay by Jarad Greene = middle grade, graphic novel; asexual MC, deals with self-discovery and body image

Come Drink With Me, Gold and Jasper, East Flows the River by Michelle Kan = all ages?; described as aromantic chinese fairy tales

The Dragon of Ynys by Minerva Cerridwen = all ages, fairy tale; aroace MC (author is aroace)

Hazel's Theory of Everything by Lisa Jenn Bigelow = middle grade, contemporary; questioning aroace MC, themes of self-discovery

The Faerie Godmother's Apprentice Wore Green by Nicky Kyle = all ages?, fairy tale; major aroace character, focus on friendship