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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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❝my child❞

✭ pairing : poly lost boys x reader

✭ fandom : the lost boys

✭ summary : (y/n) is a vampire and a member of the Lost Boys, a powerful gang of biker vampires who control Santa Carla's boardwalk. Despite her immortal nature, Y/N yearns for the impossible dream of having children, much like human women. Her fixation shifts to a lone traveler, whom she believes is destined to be the child of her and the Lost Boys, setting the stage for a unique and unconventional tale of desire and destiny in the vampire underworld.

✭ authors note : ooh aged down star here and I think ima start writing for something other then twilight because no offense twilights taking up my page 😂 I’m not just a twilight franchise writer, I write for various movies, tv shows and series

✭ the lost boys masterlist

The Santa Carla boardwalk was bustling with life as (Y/N) walked hand in hand with her four vampire companions: Marko, Paul, Dwayne, and David. They were known as the Lost Boys, the notorious group of nocturnal creatures that ruled the night in this coastal town. For (Y/N), they were more than just companions; they were her mates, her official but unofficial husbands in the eyes of their vampiric society.

As they strolled among the neon lights, a sense of melancholy crept over her. Children ran by, laughter and joy emanating from their every move. Parents watched over them with love and pride, and the longing in (Y/N)'s heart deepened. She knew that as a vampire, she could never experience the joy of parenthood. Vampires couldn't reproduce, and that realization weighed heavily on her.

(Y/N) glanced at her boys beside her, their immortal beauty accentuated by the boardwalk lights. Their existence was eternal, but it was also devoid of the simple pleasures of human life. While they didn't age, they were forever frozen in time, unable to grow, change, or have children of their own. A pang of sadness washed over her as she wished for something she could never have.

Later that night, as they returned to their hidden lair deep in the cliffs overlooking the Pacific, (Y/N) nestled herself in the makeshift nest of blankets and pillows. She was wrapped up tightly, seeking comfort from the emotional storm brewing within her. Unbeknownst to her, the Lost Boys could feel her emotions, her sadness radiating like a palpable energy in the room.

Dwayne, always the most observant of the group, spoke up. "Did anyone else notice (Y/N) unusual behavior today on the boardwalk?" His voice was soft but laced with concern.

David, the leader of the Lost Boys, nodded. "Yes, I did. She seemed...distressed."

Marko and Paul exchanged glances, equally troubled by the apparent sadness in their mate's heart. "You think she's craving something?" Paul asked, voicing the thought that lingered in all their minds.

Dwayne sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "It's possible. She was watching the children and their families."

David's eyes darkened as he considered the implications. They all knew that satisfying this desire wouldn't be easy. They couldn't simply snatch a random child, not only because it would be cruel but also because it would anger (Y/N) beyond measure.

"We need to find a way to make her happy," David said finally. "We owe it to her. She's given up so much to be with us."

Marko nodded in agreement. "Let's figure this out, together. (Y/N) deserves our best efforts."

Paul chimed in, determination in his voice. "We can't give her a child, but maybe we can find something else that will fill that void in her heart."

As the boys huddled together, their bond as strong as ever, they were united by a single goal: to bring happiness to the woman they cherished above all else, even if it meant navigating the complex emotions of parenthood they could never truly understand.

The night was still young, and only a few hours remained until the dreaded sunrise. The boys knew they had to act quickly to address the longing that had gripped their mate, (Y/N). With determined hearts, they mounted their motorcycles and rode down to Max's store on the boardwalk. The neon lights of Santa Carla painted the night in an eerie glow as they approached the familiar establishment.

Maria, Max's human employee, greeted them with a warm smile as they entered the store. "Hey, boys. Max is in his office."

The boys nodded in thanks and headed toward Max's office. They didn't waste any time with pleasantries when they walked in, their faces etched with worry and anxiety.

Max, reclined in his office chair, raised an eyebrow at their seemingly disrespectful entrance. "What's got you all so riled up?" he asked, his tone tinged with annoyance.

David stepped forward, his voice steady but full of concern. "Max, we need your advice and assistance. (Y/N) is going through something, and we don't know how to help her."

Max leaned back, his curiosity piqued. "Go on."

David took a deep breath and explained the situation. "Our mate wants a baby, Max. She's been feeling this emptiness, a desire that we can't fulfill. We can't just take someone's child; that's not who we are."

Max nodded thoughtfully, steepling his fingers. "It's not uncommon for a female vampire to experience these feelings from time to time," he mused. "Left unchecked, it can become problematic."

Marko, his anxiety growing, couldn't help but speak up. "So what do you suggest we do?"

Max regarded them with a knowing look. "Santa Carla is teeming with runaways and lost souls, boys. Finding an unsuspecting victim on the streets should not be a challenge. It would be a temporary solution to ease her pain."

The boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, the weight of Max's suggestion settling on their consciences. It was a dark and morally questionable path, one they had always tried to avoid.

But as the seconds ticked away, they realized they were running out of time to make a decision. The coming dawn reminded them of their own immortality and the fleeting nature of the night.

"Thank you, Max," David said, gratitude in his eyes. "We'll consider it."

Max nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Remember, boys, sometimes the choices we make for the ones we love aren't easy."

With that, the boys left Max's office, the weight of their decision heavy on their shoulders. They knew they had to find a way to bring happiness to (Y/N), but at what cost? The night held its secrets, and they had a long, dark road ahead of them.

The next night, the boys and their mate, (Y/N), found themselves once again on the bustling Santa Carla boardwalk. (Y/N) leaned against Dwayne, her head resting on his shoulder, as they walked in sync with the rhythmic ebb and flow of the crowd.

David, always watchful, scanned the surroundings, his eyes darting from person to person. (Y/N) noticed his vigilant demeanor and furrowed her brows. "Is everything okay, David?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

Paul, never one to hide the truth from (Y/N), stepped forward, his voice gentle but firm. "We need to tell you something, (Y/N). Max suggested a solution to your...desires. David is likely keeping an eye out for a child."

(Y/N)'s expression shifted from curiosity to a deep frown. She gave Paul a sad smile and shook her head. "You don't have to do that, boys. I appreciate your efforts, but we don't need to..."

Her words were cut short as she suddenly stopped walking. A bewildered look crossed the faces of the boys as they watched her go silent. Concern etched lines into their brows as they approached her.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" Dwayne asked softly.

Her gaze was distant, her senses focused on something they couldn't perceive. "Do you hear that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of the boardwalk.

The boys exchanged puzzled glances. "Hear what?" Marko questioned.

"My child," (Y/N) said, her voice quivering with emotion. "It's calling out to me."

With newfound determination, (Y/N) moved quickly through the crowd, following an invisible pull that only she could sense. The boys exchanged glances again, realization dawning upon them.

"Guess the hunt's on," David remarked, and they followed her, careful not to lose sight of her in the bustling crowd.

As they ventured deeper into the night, they lost sight of (Y/N) for a moment. Anxiety gripped them until, finally, she reappeared with a bright smile that illuminated her face. She held the hand of a young girl, no more than seven or eight years old, with big, innocent eyes.

"Boys, meet Star," (Y/N) said, her eyes shining with happiness. "She wants to hang with us tonight. Is that alright?"

The boys gazed at the child, their hearts heavy with the weight of their decision. But when they saw the genuine joy in (Y/N)'s eyes, they couldn't deny her this moment of happiness.

"Yeah, baby, she can hang," Paul said with a reassuring smile, and then the rest of the boys welcomed Star into their nocturnal world, hoping that this newfound connection would bring solace to (Y/N) and fill the void that had haunted her for so long.

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wangxianficrecs · 2 months ago

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Rewind 2024 - Proud Author Spotlights

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2024

Here are some recommendations from 2024 sent in by our fandom's authors themselves. Make sure to give them much love. PS: Authors, don't be shy! Submit more Proud Author Spotlights!

~*~

I published the latest extra off my dynasty fic in March 2024, and it might be my favourite so far! Feat a lot of politics in the Wen Sect, wwx being his badass self, some ocs and a lot of Yiling siblings feels.

💙 Hope is a discipline (Something you choose)

by One_eyed_God (@oneeyedoctogod)

T, 15k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Under the harsh and merciless sun of Nightless City, Wen Ruohan falls. But even with its leader is dead, the Wen Sect must live on, to avoid the dreaded future Wei Wuxian has already lived once. And though he never expected to be the one to lead them, he will carry this duty without fail. Or: The aftermath of Wen Ruohan's death.

~*~

Hello! ☺️ First of all, thank you for running this wonderful blog!!

This is for Rewind 2024 Proud Author Spotlight. It is a 29k story I recently finished translating (I'm also the author of the original version) and I'm really glad to have been able to do this within less than a year.

It will not please everyone as it is mostly CQL-based (CQL post-canon) but it is first person Wei Ying POV and I haven't read a lot of that in this fandom, so I hope maybe some people would enjoy it!

Thank you again for everything!

Léli.

The Unsung

by Leilwen (@leilwe)

E, 29k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Zhan... would you come over the mountain with me one day? … … I would have liked for him to give me a real answer and I cursed the Lans' nocturnal almost-hibernation. … … … When Yunshen Buzhichu no longer needs me, you will be my only horizon. When I returned and lay down beside him, the crescent moon no longer looked so sickly pale.

~*~

Hi ! This is for the remind 2024, I don't know if authors can boosted their own work. But I wrote this fic for my very first RBB, and even if it ins't perfect I am very proud of it.

Convergence

by Czeriahx (@czeriah) & Sirendipity (@lwjsbedtime)

M, 77k, Wangxian

Part of Yuyu Respectarium's Reverse Big Bang!

Summary: In a world governed by the Wen Empire, the Wei Coven's Oracle prophesize the coming of a new sun. Together with its moon counterpart, they are to bring back balance to the world. That is, until the Wen Emperor send assassins to take care of the threat against their rule. [Art by Siren, Embedded in the fic !!]

~*~

My submission to the TopXian RBB event that was boosted here a few months ago. I got a wonderful prompt and art piece to write for. Links in my fic!

An AU Canon Divergence where after the betrothal with JZX is broken off, JYL becomes betrothed to WWX. The plotline is retold with this twist, leading to events both familiar and not. JYL is the pov character, navigating her new life after devastation and war, with WWX at her side. But let no one forget LWJ - WWX and JYL certainly can't, though for very different reasons.

Come along for character study fix-it fic, with a happy ending for all the main characters!

Not Unwilling

by somevariationofgay (@somevariationofgay)

E, 48k, Wangxian & Xianli

Part of the TopXian RBB

Summary: The young mistress of Yunmeng Jiang clan, raised to marry out for the benefit of her family, dutifully waits for her parents to arrange another match after her troth with the young master of Lanling Jin clan is broken. When her father decides the new betrothal will be to their sect's head disciple, she finds herself not unwilling. But the ambitions of Qishan Wen clan surge and a bloody flood overtakes Lotus Pier, changing the course of her life forever.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

#wangxian fic rec #wangxianficrecs #rewind 2024 #the untamed #wangxian #fandom event #long post #Kay's Rec #Kay's Favorite #The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #MDZS #Mo Dao Zu Shi #December 2024 #Author boost #Proud Author Spotlight

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queerprayers · 7 months ago

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Hello! I'm a genderfluid Christian and I'm currently trying to discern whether going on HRT would be a good idea, both in terms of whether it would be worth the inconvenience and whether it would be glorifying to God. Do you have any recommendations?

(For a long time, I was comfortable in my gender without it, but a few months ago something shifted and now I can't stop thinking about it. I would ask a pastor, but I'm between churches at the moment; the Baptist church I went to for many years, despite its many good qualities, is not at all affirming, and I'm still in the process of finding a better spiritual home, which is further complicated by the fact that I am nocturnal.)

Thank you for running this blog, by the way. It means a lot to me.

Hello, beloved! I will do my best and I'm so glad you're here.

I hope you've heard this quote from Daniel M. Lavery, but just in case you haven't: "As my friend Julian puts it, only half winkingly: 'God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.'"

Another quote from that book (Something That May Shock and Discredit You, which I highly recommend) that comes to mind is “Trying not to transition was the hardest work in the world. The nicest thing about transition was letting go.” I believe you that you're unsure, and I'm not trying to make your decision for you, but on the off chance that any of your discerning has taken the form of trying to convince yourself not to transition in this way, or downplaying your current discomfort, or not trusting yourself out of fear, I'd say that being trans in this world is hard enough without being on your own side.

Ultimately, you know yourself and your experience, and I'd hazard a guess that you've already decided more than you think. Often by the time I'm reaching out about a life change, I'm asking permission more than advice. If that rings true, here's your permission (not that you need it from me).

I hope you don't mind, but I checked in with my partner (a certified Transgender) while answering this, and I'll paraphrase what they had to say about HRT and inconvenience: Is the travel time to see a loved one worth the inconvenience? Ultimately, you are worth dealing with inconvenience. The happiness you could have is worth the inconvenience. Being trans is hard with or without medical transition. But sharing in the act of creation is worth it. We are all worth doing hard things for, and for some that includes fighting to get on HRT and being visibly trans in public.

You can't know until you begin a journey if it will be "worth it"—but I would imagine answering this for yourself, giving this instinct inside you a chance, would be worth it even if it's not forever. There are people who start HRT and decide it's not for them—and their lives aren't ruined. Their lives are fuller for honoring what they wanted at that point in time. Obviously regret happens—but we cannot refrain from living because of that. Your gender identity and your relationship with your body may change and grow, and all parts of that change are worth of honoring.

As to whether this would glorify God—are you honoring the person God created? If (to paraphrase St. Teresa of Ávila) Christ has no body now on earth but yours, if yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world, the feet with which he walks to do good, the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world —what body are you moving through this world with, and how will you care for it? What will enable you to live out Christ? Jesus calls us to meet every stranger as himself—what would happen if you met yourself as such, too? If everything we do to another is what we do to Christ—feed, clothe, honor—why would you be any less? Why would your body not be worthy of existence, of shelter?

If our bodies are temples to God, are they not places of worship? Of course my journey with accepting my body has shown me that we can be faithful Christians before accepting ourselves, and as we learn to care for ourselves. I don't mean to imply we cannot. But our peaceful existence in these places of worship takes work, and just as we work to make our churches more accessible and accepting, so must we work to care for our bodies and fully inhabit them as prayer. My work of love to my body was accepting it as it is, welcoming its change and faults, and also taking psychiatric medication so that I could function better. It was prayer for me, the journey to find a medication that worked and paying attention to how it was changing me, how it enabled me to better serve as a child of God.

Every trans person I know has been more fully able to love when they live as themselves—when they've had access to transition care, when they've been respected and affirmed. These were not selfish choices, they were self-honoring choices which have shone outward ever since. We can look to the Bible to see name changes at moments of God-glorifying change, and we can also see physical change—the shining face of Moses, the woman who only seeks to grasp the hem of Jesus's clothing to be healed, Paul going temporarily blind, Jesus himself at his transfiguration. We cannot serve God and stay the same.

Romans 12 tells us to offer our bodies as a living sacrifice—living. Yes, we are called to be willing to die for love, but also to live for it. Preventing your flourishing because it would be scary, or inconvenient, or misunderstood, or because it may not be where your flourishing lies forever, is not a sacrifice for love. Transition, the way I've seen it in the people around me, is.

I also want to point out that you've done the work—you introduced yourself as a genderfluid Christian. I don't know your story, but I know the years of reconciling saying those words can take. You have the language for yourself. You know who you are. HRT can be a huge first step for some, but it can also be just the next part of that work. It doesn't have to be huge. For some it is simply bringing things more in line with the self they've known all along. Make it a big deal if that feels true (and it is a big deal in terms of bravery and access), but it may become just one of many ways you care for yourself. You don't have to cater to those who see it as drastic or an emergency, those who fearmonger or want you to prove you need it. You've done the work, so trust that you are capable of making this decision.

It is your God-given right to make decisions about your body. As Christians, we believe we are called to serve God with those decisions. But God gave us the reins. God gave us all different skills and stories and paths. It is not easy or obvious and sometimes we circle back or regret or repent. God gave us the capacity for those kinds of stories, too. Be human with God—our God who entered into time and space, who participated in our having-a-body-ness, who reconciled the ways his body held him back and the ways he could serve with it. Jesus's relationship with his gender/body/health is not something we're privy to but from other parts of his life we can assume it was a participation in his time and place—a 1st century Jewish man. In the communities you're a part of, with the resources you have, with the identities you have welcomed, how will you be human with him?

I don't know what healthcare is available to you where you are, but a good doctor can tell you the side effects, refer you to counseling as you make choices, give you dose and timeline options. Even if you don't end up going on HRT, seeking out trans-inclusive healthcare and community is a good choice, and I would recommend learning your options. If you can't stop thinking about this, trust that it's worth taking seriously.

I wish you all the best in finding a church/community—there are people equipped to love all of you, and you deserve to find them. I relate with the nocturnal bit—I know Catholics usually have a Saturday night service, and every so often another kind of church will. Online community can fill gaps and give us other ways of connection as we look for physical communion. I wish I could promise affirming religious spaces in every place, but I can only pray and work for that to someday be the case.

So, to answer my lover's question, the travel time to see a loved one is worth it. The journey to the you more full of love is worth it, and the journey to find a spiritual home is worth it. If we are pilgrims on this earth, may the things in our control be done with love, may our journeys be faithful, may our bodies be Christ's body, trusting in the Love greater than anything we can do. How you will be a steward of God's creation is not something I can answer for you, but I believe in your ability to sow the seeds within you. HRT may be the next part of your creation—you can give yourself some time, talk to some people, sit with the idea, consider how you would handle regret, and don't let me tell you what to do, but ultimately there is only one way to know, and waiting until we're sure is stagnation if it is not an active waiting.

To quote my Easter/TDOV post: Come to life, beloved. God sees you. The first steps out of the tomb may be stumbling, the dawn too bright, but we will meet you in the garden, where you were first created. Bring with you whatever is still bleeding—Jesus believes in you, touches the ache in your ribs. Mistake him for a gardener; let him plant you anew. Look to the wound in his side, see how it births the Church, and continues to until there is room for you. Look through the holes in his hands and see the world you were redeemed for, the self that you have already found or may only imagine. God made the grapes, and Christ stands in the winepress with you. Trample out your wine.

And lastly, to turn the patron saint of receiving sacraments presenting as God calls, even unto death, Joan of Arc's affirmation into a command (and purposely quoting an angel in the process): Be not afraid. You were born to do this.

<3 Johanna

#asks

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pseudoquiddity · 4 months ago

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Here is my radical "The Nocturnal Ending is Bad for the Kin" take because I feel the need to write it down.

As I see it, the Diurnal and Nocturnal ending are equally as bad/good for the people of the Kin (to modify the statement I just made above). It's Artemy's miserable job to choose which part of the Kin is "most" Kin to him, based on his lived experiences the past two weeks.

Oyun and several other NPCs state multiple times that the Kin are a single-headed beast. If you kill the worms in the Termitary, Artemy can also believe that the Kin are a hivemind. If this is what you and/or your Artemy believes, then so be it, but there is evidence to the contrary. Aspity has a different take on this, Isidor has a different take on this, you can have a different take on this, and you're all undeniably Kin. The Kin members you meet in Aspity's place asking for her advice all come to her with different problems representational of the factions the Kin are splitting into. Should they rebel violently? Should they learn Russian? Is there a point passing down their values when their values have no purpose in this settler society? Var, too, "looks" Kin but claims he isn't. But the Worms attack you and help you "as one" in the Abattoir. Taya believes they're all fingers on a hand and inseparable. There is no "alone." So which is it? Well, Artemy, you choose ...

The "Kin hivemind" is an objectively fantastical concept that may or may not exist in the Kin, the same way that massive aurochs maybe did, maybe didn't roam the Earth at one point.

During the plague, massive numbers of the Kin die. In the Termitary, for one, but also people on the street. We know this is because they're "too individualistic." They're too integrated into the town and have strayed too far. It's a kind of internal diaspora. Artemy, who leaves the town and is himself half Kin, and so grapples with whether he has the right to make massive decisions for the Kin or not, whether he's really Kin enough, is like these people. These people have never left the town but they have left behind part of their Kin identity. These are the "average" people, people who aren't fantastical, who need to work jobs to feed their families, who make mistakes and, like Artemy, struggle to fit in a world that at its convenience, sees them as a member of the town or not.

During the Nocturnal ending, the members of the internal Kin diaspora will probably die to the plague. They never had the chance to prove themselves, like Artemy did, that they're still connected to the Earth. What's preserved is the fantastical. Murky, Grace, Taya and Clara get to live because they are also partly embedded in the idea that they are pieces of a whole, and they're also little miracles themselves with their latent abilities tied to the Earth.

So, here, Artemy makes the decision that to him, the Kin is miracles; it's all of the myths he heard, they're a hivemind, they're magical, they're suprahuman. There's no room for the mundane, disconnected members of the Kin, who are long-since discarded victims.

In the Diurnal ending, the miracles die. In the Diurnal ending, to this Artemy, the Kin are the everyday people who are caught up in this settler colonialism system like he is. There are no more strange Worms, or Herb Brides, but there is a little steppe encampment outside the town for anyone who considers themself Kin and that might be good enough for Artemy. This ending, though, is a deeply conservative one where things won't change. Conditions will modernize as Vlad improves quality of life for the workers, but members of the Kin who join him again and decide to live in the town will drift farther away from their heritage, further churned up in the system.

So, it really is an impossible decision ... for Artemy to not quite feel like he belongs himself, who is passably European but is also interpreted as Kin when people want to mark him an outcast, and then he ultimately has to sever one aspect of the Kin forever. And neither decision is "good," but he has to make it, so neither decision is "bad," too. Ultimately, like the Bachelor, in the Haruspex's P2 ending, the "system" wins. For the Bachelor, it's a new oligarchical system spearheaded by the willfully corrupt Kains, and for Artemy, it's the system he struggles with since day one when he was hunted in the streets.

#pathologic #artemy burakh #The Kin #mini patho essay #anyways #i have strong feelings about biracial artemy ooooo #man-of-letters

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stvrdrops · 2 days ago

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eternal eclipse ☆ | drolta x fem!reader (castlevania;nocturne)

to share only night together was not enough, only an eternity could quench your thirst for drolta.

warnings : talk of death, kissing, vampire stuff

word count : 1.5k+

note : soooo, it's been a while since i've posted any fanfic. not gonna lie life been really kicking ass and i struggled to write for my normal shuri stuff cause i lost my fixation. but i hope this little niche fanfic finds those who enjoy it :)

p.s. i recommend listening to "no ordinary love" by sade :)

"why don't you ever stay the night?"

"i stay every night." drolta says to you, licking her lips and recalling the fresh taste of your magnificent blood.

"or rather, morning." you whisper out, finding yourself a little too frail to sit up all the way. your dress falls as you sit up slightly. an exposed bite causing blood to run down your chest. drolta watched through pink eyes. the dark surrounding them was something so hypnotizing that you always found yourself falling into it. it was like some kind of inviting abyss.

"mortals and their silly questions. how you grovel for my touch and teeth among your skin is ever so amusing."

"i grow older drolta!" you weakly yell out to her. this grabs her attention, not once have you ever yelled at the higher powered being. you shed a single tear, letting out a sigh of utter desperation. "i age with every sunrise and dawn. my bones grow weaker and some day you will come to see me only to find an old woman in my place. i know i am young now, but i've aged over the last couple years and nothing about you changes. you're still as beautiful as the day we met and you will forever remain this way."

drolta's eyes drop away from yours, taking in your words of anguish. she knew you were right, because she'd have other companions before. she had bed women and men far before you were ever born. she'd watch them go and come, their children or grandchildren sometimes even becoming her next fling. it was a cycle she had grown oddly accustomed to, not feeling any certain emotion for one or the next. she liked the fact that she aged and grew more powerful in the search of the vessel for her goddess while others perished. it made her feel the power she knew she had within her.

your hand finds her exposed arm. she turns to look at you.

"drolta, i envy that some day i will be too old for you and yet someone will be just young enough. it is not fair that you help me to discover such deep emotions. not ever will i feel for someone the way i feel for you. all this feeling, just for it to one day end once i can no longer serve you."

"there have been some before you and there will be many after you. i am a soul that walks this earth with no true claim anymore. you have a purpose, and warm blood to keep you living in the way your story speaks."

"what if my story is simply for me to serve you? i want to be your companion in this feeble mortal life that i share with my human counterparts. then, have that companionship follow into a new world my soul can not comprehend. i do not want to age among the rest, i want to have a face that is young but a mind that is aged by love. your love."

drolta had heard many a confession, but this one did something different to her. she swore that if she had a heartbeat she could feel it perhaps skip a beat.

"do you know exactly what it is that you're asking of me? what that means to be my partner eternally?" drolta asks, clearly enticed by the idea.

"i don't now what all it means, but i'd have an eternity to learn. i want to devour the sunlight with you, devour the world alongside you. what if i am the vessel that you desire?"

drolta's pink eyes lock onto your dark ones. for the first time she thinks she can feel a devotion to someone other than her goddess. or, perhaps, for her goddess in a new twisted discovery. this shocks her, renders her unable to think properly. she had spent so long devoting her life to a woman that she didn't know what it meant to have true devotion back. her body tingled, and her pink hair began to flame up from the idea.

you were the vessel for her messiah.

"you will devour the sun, me alongside you. first, i shall devour you."

the word devour sent chills through your body.

she extends a hand out to you. you gracefully accept the invite. she uses her enhanced strength to pull you up, your warm body next to her cold one as she spreads out her wings. the two of your exit out of the french doors and onto the balcony that your family's wealth had graciously provided for you. it was where you first met drolta.

her wings flap and for the first time you find yourself floating in the air. your eyes grow wide and a childlike smile spreads across your face. drolta gives you a devilish smile in return.

oh, to be in love with something so unholy as she.

no angel could ever look this beautiful.

"romantic, isn't it?" she asks, licking over the neck wound. it sends you into a euphoria, as your blood sends her into a similar one. you can feel the heat from her inflamed pink hair grazing your skin.

"i love you, drolta."

your lips find hers as you're both suspended in the air over a lake. your eyes are closed but you can still see the pink hues from among your eyelids. as if you were stuck in a trance, she kisses you harder and faster. you can taste your own blood in her mouth, ever so addicting. now you can see why she can't seem to leave you alone.

a moan escapes from inside of you, one out of the millions drolta had heard before. she had come to see you every night since you met, which was three years ago. some nights she'd stay for a chat or a simple couple of minutes. others she would ravage you and drink you almost dry just to do it again the next night.

"take me!" you beg to her, causing her flame to grow bigger and eyes to grow wider. god, how she craved your mortal being. your naivety and free outlook. anyone else feared death, and yet you welcomed it, knowing the transformation may not even work with how powerful drolta's blood truly was. she had turned others before. you were just the first in a very long time.

she stops her feverish and hungered kisses, diving for your neck. sharp teeth overtake you, a pain echoing from your neck to the rest of your body. it was a familiar pain, but it never got any easier to get accustomed to. you welcomed the pain and the feeling of being drained entirely. you enjoyed the feeling of her tongue sweeping over the blood seeping from your neck. just as you loved the way her tongue swept over your feminine autonomy. the devil was draining you and you desired it to never end.

it didn't matter that you were losing the color in your body. nothing mattered anymore. as you could feel your life force being drained from your very being. she was bringing you death, but she was also bringing you to a new life. an eternal one.

your hand fell from her neck, losing all of its feeling. drolta senses that you're near the end and rips her teeth away from you, finding it hard to control herself. your blood was unlike any other that she'd ever tasted. it was blood good enough to compare to the likes of her messiah.

the moonlight shone on the two of you, bouncing off of the tiny ripples that existed among the waters below you. it was beautiful, a perfect end to a beginning. your eyes closing slightly, drolta being the last thing you see. she was smiling at you, but not out of love, more out of accomplishment.

"drink." the words slither out of her mouth. she rips into her own wrist, causing a new blood to seep from within her.

surprised in yourself, you don't waste any time reaching fervently for the blood of your lover. your mouth clings onto her wrist and suckles in any blood she can spare for you. your eyes are closed as you fall into a bliss. her moans filled your ears every so pleasantly.

she pulls you away from her wrist, knowing that if you get any more you may kill her.

when she sees your face again it is still the same shade she's always adorned. yet, your eyes are different this time. no longer a dark brown, but a light one, almost a shade of gold. it reminds her of egypt.

it reminds her of sekhmet.

your fangs are dripping with her blood.

"my bringer of death!" she shouts out to you. you don't register what she's saying due to the unfamiliar new being you seem to find yourself as.

her lips once again collide with yours. there's a newfound hunger shared between the two of you. something much deeper than anything ever felt before. drolta did not know what it meant to love, you did. yet, somehow this seemed like something so unfamiliar to the both of you. was it lust? or was it something much deeper that transcends both vampire and human?

it didn't matter, as the two of you kissed deeply and passionately in the air above the lake. the sight so beautiful that even the sun not dared to come up in fear of interrupting the moment. for a second, it seemed as if the night would be eternal, just you and drolta suspended in the air for an eternity.

an eternity you were sure to bring, as the vessel for the new messiah.

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°✩☼⋆｡°✩☽

#stvrdrops #fanfic #drolta tzuentes #castlevania #castlevania drolta #castlevania nocturne season 2 #black!reader #black!fem!reader #drolta imagine #castlevania imagine #castlevania fanfic #vampire imagine

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insane-in-the-membranee · 1 year ago

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Since I don't feel like studying rn (I have tests starting tomorrow but anw) I'mma make a list of all the webtoons I've read till now~ (feel free to recommend more :3)

My Deepest Secret (my 1st webtoon on the app) ✅

UnOrdinary (ongoing)

Freaking Romance ✅

Siren's Lament ✅

My dear cold-blooded king ✅

Age Matters ✅

Hello Baby (ongoing)

Let's Play (completed- gotta catch up)

I love Yoo (ongoing)

Eggnoid ✅

It's Mine ✅

The Remarried Empress (ongoing)

Your Throne (ongoing)

The Makeup Remover ✅

Rotten (paused)

Bastard (paused)

Sweet Home (paused)

My Daughter is a Zombie (paused)

CinnamonRoll ✅

I dropped Noblesse and Goh*

What you wish for (dropped)

Play Dead (Hiatus— last ch on Jul 17, 2020)

I'm the Grim Reaper (ongoing)

The Devil is a Handsome Man

Little Rain (Hiatus)

Her Mannequin (Hiatus)

To Love Your Enemy ✅

Reunion ✅ (by stephattyy)

The Male Lead's Girlfriend (completed- gotta catch up)

The Snake and the Flower (completed- gotta catch up)

So I married the Anti-Fan ✅

Secret Playlist ✅

True Beauty ✅

Beyond Virtual (completed- gotta catch up)

When Jasy Whistles (Hiatus)

LUMINE (Hiatus)

The Duke's Cursed Charm (completed- gotta catch up)

His Majesty's Proposal ✅

My Gently Raised Beast ✅

My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me (Hiatus)

A Tail's Secret (Hiatus)

She's Hopeless ✅

Who's Mr. President? ✅

For My Derelict Favorite (Hiatus)

Take me, I'm Yours ✅

Daytime Star ✅

Play The Game (Hiatus)

The Dark Lord's Confession (Hiatus)

Forever After (Hiatus)

Maybe Meant To Be (Hiatus)

I'm Dating A Psychopath (Ongoing)

The Dragon King's Bride (ongoing)

Only Hope (ongoing)

Phase (ongoing)

Go Away Romeo (ongoing)

Omniscient Reader (ongoing)

Lookism (ongoing)

No Marriage Is Perfect (ongoing)

Trapped (ongoing)

Eaternal Nocturnal (ongoing)

Serena (ongoing)

Baby Tyrant (ongoing)

I am the Villain (ongoing)

Locked Onto You (ongoing)

Leveling Up My Husband To The Max (completed) ✅

Unlovable Replacement (ongoing)

Dreaming Freedom (ongoing)

Operation: True Love (ongoing)

The Guy Upstairs (ongoing)

Men of the Harem (ongoing)

Like Wind On A Dry Branch (ongoing)

Iseop's Romance (ongoing)

Perfect Marriage Revenge (completed) ✅

Marry My Husband ✅

Cry, or Better Yet, Beg (ongoing)

I'm the Queen in this Life (ongoing)

Wind Breaker (paused)

The Age of Arrogance (ongoing)

My Reason to Die (ongoing)

Hero Killer (ongoing)

Get Schooled (Webtoon removed it tho)

A good day to be a dog ✅

The mafia nanny (ongoing)

Following Eunju (completed) ✅

The Price Is Your Everything (ongoing)

Not Your Typical Reincarnation Story (ongoing)

Taming the corrupted (ongoing)

That's all I can remember for now. Remember some might have been completed but I am following the Webtoon so I went according to that. I have written Hiatus on "Will Return" Series as well, lmk if you want me to change it to 'ongoing' instead!

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dervampireprince · 8 days ago

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Will You Join Me Once Again?

[18+, minors dni) Pairing: Leon Belmont/Vlad 'Dracula Tepes (Mathias Cronqvist) Words: 6,532 Rating: Explicit Read on Ao3 Tags: Dracula Vlad Tepes (Mathias Cronqvist)/Lisa (Mentioned) | Leon Belmont/Dracula Vlad Tepes (Mathias Cronqvist)/Lisa (Mentioned) | Polyamory | Polyamorous Dracula & Lisa - theres no cheating here | Trans Man Leon Belmont | Love Confessions | Getting Together | Reunions | Vaginal Penetration | Fingering | Oral | Multiple Orgasms | First Time | Virgin Leon Belmont | Internal Conflict | Happy Ending | Mirror Sex | Praise Kink | Voice Kink | Size Difference | Dom Top Vlad | Sub Bottom Leon Summary: Grass. Wet grass. That was the first thing Leon felt. His fingers twitched against soil, dirt creeping under his fingernails. He breathed. He breathed. And then he opened his eyes. Set after the finale of Castlevania season 4; What if Leon Belmont also woke up naked in a field, somehow revived. And what if he found his old friend and they talked (amongst other things). Combines Castlevania Lament of Innocence and the Castlevania animated series lore. Notes: my first writing in two and a half years huh. i started writing this after rewatching castlevania season 1 back in september 2024 and had the urge to finally write something for these two, who i adore together so much. but i started getting a headache and it was late and i went to bed instead of finishing the fic. which was the right thing to do for my health, but it did mean because i took a break i never picked up the fic again. until today. i binged all of castlevania nocturne yesterday and randomly today i just thought 'hey i reckon i could finish that fic' and i did.

Grass. Wet grass. That was the first thing Leon felt. His fingers twitched against soil, dirt creeping under his fingernails. He breathed. He breathed. And then he opened his eyes.

Waking up naked and alone in a forest wasn't the typical start to Leon Belmont's day. Especially since he hadn't gotten to start a day in over four hundred years. Wherever he had been since his death, he wasn't sure. Time passed strangely, and at times he could almost reach out and see what happening to his descenders. Centuries of Belmonts fighting vampires, that's what his legacy had become. And all of it stemming from one man.

He hadn't seen Mathias in the spirit world, or hell or whatever that place had been. Perhaps their souls had both gone to very different places. And yet despite how he had cursed Mathias, he had been... Well at first he had been angry, angry that he could not confront him, that he could now ask him if his betrayal had been worth it... and then he'd been... alone. Sara's soul was forever floating on Earth, unable to be with him. And by the end of his life, he had no other friends left, pushing them all away, scared to trust anyone... scared to trust himself. He had failed. Walter was dead, but so was Sara... and then Mathias took Walter's place. He had changed nothing. If he hadn't gone to the castle, if he hadn't killed Walter, maybe Mathias would have never become... him...

Mathias. No. Dracula.

And perhaps all the people killed in his wake would still be alive. How much suffering would be undone if he had never killed Water. Or if he'd been able to kill Mathias... But he couldn't do it. Even after everything Mathias had done, Leon was too soft, couldn't stop his damn heart from loving him. Hell, sometimes he'd wondered if he'd confessed how he felt, maybe Mathias would had never become so desperate to have gone searching for Walter in the first place.

But that was long ago. That's what he told himself. He couldn't change it. That didn't stop him from eternally thinking about it. Feeling guilty for not saving enough people, for not stopping Mathias... and sometimes, when low enough, he felt guilty for not going with Mathias in the end. Maybe he could have changed him, made him see sense, maybe he didn't try hard enough to save his friend.

He had to steal some clothes. Whoever or whatever resurrected him could have at least provided that. Though perhaps Leon was brought back just to suffer some more, humiliate himself for whatever god was watching.

At least it was night. That made it easier to sneak around the outskirts of a nearby village, watching for movement in windows, until he braved sneaking into a house and stealing some clothes. He swiped a knife from their kitchen on the way out. Unsure of what he was supposed to do with this new life, but sure that wasn't going to have any luck. That danger was probably going to find him.

That was the thought he had when he them. A couple. They were walking towards what seemed to be an inn. They had their hoods up but despite being out of practise, Leon knew a vampire when he saw one. Times had changed. Dracula was dead. Perhaps he should leave them alone.

The vampire turned, as if sensing Leon was watching him, and Leon saw his face. Older and harsher and with a beard and a moustache but those eyes were as red as they were the last time Leon saw them but he was dead he knew he was dead, he felt it and felt it again as something on his said on the veil shifted and then he was dead again wasn't he, wasn't he-

The vampire turned back, ushered his companion inside, and Leon struggled to breath.

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

When the vampire's companion came down to the pub attached to the inn, Leon was there. He watched and waited while she asked for some wine and food, and while the innkeeper turned and left to gather what she'd asked for, he approached.

She turned her head to meet his eyes. She was blonde. Her eyes were blue. Leon tried to think that could mean nothing.

And then he pieced together glimpses of this world, of Dracula's revenge statement of revenge that seeped through the cracks of the Earth and out into elsewhere.

His wife. This was his wife. They were both alive. Somehow. And they were together. Leon should leave them be. But he had so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to hear.

"Can I help you?"

He was staring. He had been staring. What do you say to the wife of your best friend turned enemy when all three of you are supposed to be dead? When the last thing you said to her husband was swearing that you'd kill him. When the last time you saw him he looked down at you as though you'd broken his heart-

"Do I know you?" She tilted her head and stared as though she could possibly know there was any sort of connection here. "You look... I swear I've seen your face before."

He was never any good at beating around the bush and being subtle anyway.

"My name is Leon."

Her eyes widened, she sucked in a breath and then... her shoulders dropped. "Oh," she said. "That explains that then."

It explains what? Had... Had Mathias talked about him? Probably gloated about how naive Leon had been but... She didn't look at him with disdain. Could... did Mathias feel guilty too?

"Would you like a drink?"

He blinked, dumbfounded. "With you?"

"Yes. Why not. I think... we have a lot we could talk about."

"You want to talk with me?"

"Yes. Especially if it could help you not try and kill my husband."

Leon nodded. Unable to think of anything to say as she asked for another drink and moved to sit at a table in the corner.

"I don't... I don't think I plan on killing him," Leon said as he sat across from her.

"You 'don't think'," She raised an eyebrow, looking down at him with as though she knew the conflict inside him, as though she could possibly know anything about him.

"I want to talk to him."

"About what?"

"About us," Leon regretted his phrasing the moment he said it.

"Us? You and Vlad?" She teased. She was teasing. He had accidentally implied a closer connection with her husband and she wasn't offended, she was teasing?

"I didn't mean it like, that is we weren't, well I don't know what you know about-"

"He's told me far more about you than I think you expect, Leon Belmont." He was cut off by her laughter, then she looked sad. "He wasn't proud of it, you know. What he did. He wondered if we'd see you in the afterlife, and how he would apologise, and how he thought nothing he could say would be enough. That you would never forgive him."

"And he'd have been right," Leon sighed. "For a time, at least."

"And now?"

"And now... And now I don't know what I'm doing here, how I'm here, how either of you are here, and I have no one and nothing and..."

"And?"

Leon couldn't get the words out. They burned in his throat. He thought of Sara, he thought of all humans that must have been killed by Mathias after he turned, and he felt guilty because despite all that all he wanted made him feel evil. Tears welled in his eyes.

"I just want to see my friend."

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

He'd gotten his own room at the inn. Felt awful as he picked someone's pocket for the money, but now at least he had somewhere to sleep.

And somewhere to wait.

Lisa, that was her name, had listened, and they'd talked and fuck she'd placed her hand on his as he'd cried. She should hate him for turning up here. For threatening to ruin their lives, this peace they were trying to make for themselves.

But she'd been kind. She'd been unashamed of Leon and his actions, and unashamed of Mathias. Vlad, she called him, that's what he went by now. And she told him of their lives, of the monster Mathias had become and then stopped being, how they'd fallen in love, of their son, and then of her death and everything that followed.

And after Leon was finished saying everything he needed too, she promised she'd go and tell Vlad, Mathias, him, everything and try and convince him to come to Leon's room so they could talk. Well actually she didn't say 'try', she said she would convince him. She seemed very sure of that. Leon thought he was starting to like her.

There was no creaking of floorboards, no footsteps. Only a cold chill seeping in from under the door.

"It's open," Leon said before anyone could knock.

The handle turned behind him. A footstep, then another, then the door closed.

"Finally have the courage to face me, old friend?"

"You visited my wife." His voice, Christ, Leon had almost forgotten what it was like. Smooth and dark and all caressing.

"I did. I wanted to talk. To understand. And I wanted you to understand that I merely want to talk"

"Hmmm, so she said."

Silence. It was Leon's turn to speak and he... He breathed, tried not to shudder, knew the damn vampire could hear it in his lungs.

"You speak of me facing you, yet you do not turn to face me. Are you frightened of what you might see? Or are you a mere trick after all. Lisa has heard stories of you, seen your face, but I would know you anywhere, little lion-"

"You do not get to call me that!" Leon whirled around, hands clenching, tears stinging his eyes and...

And there he was. Tall. Taller than Leon remembered. Perhaps the vampirism had added to his already stupid height. There were lines under his eyes, around his mouth. He had never had facial hair when he'd been Mathias. His once green eyes still that crimson red and wide, wide open as if he too was in shock.

"It really is you..." Vlad said as if in wonder. Leon could not fathom how he could be wondrous any more.

"And it really is you," And because sarcasm and stubborn was in his blood. "Nice beard."

Vlad laughed. Actually laughed. As if Leon's remark had cut through all the insanity of what had happened over the last twenty-four hours. And Leon's lips quirked up as he fought against the contagious laughter.

"Well," Vlad said. "I was never good at growing any when I was human. But..."

"Things changed. You changed."

"You haven't," Vlad took a step closer. "Leon you look... It's as if not a single day has passed. You look... perfect."

Leon drew in a breath, stepped backwards to keep distance between them and hoped by doing that he could ignore the beating of his heart. But he knew Vlad couldn't.

"Don't pity me."

"Leon, that's not... I'm not-"

"I know what I did, alright. I fucked up, I ruined everything. I couldn't save Sarah, couldn't defeat you, couldn't see that it was all one big trap, and despite all of that you know what also won't leave me? That I couldn't see that my best friend, the person I loved most in this world, was in so much pain that he'd go and turn himself into a fucking vampire so he didn't have to feel any more and try and claim some stupid revenge as if he could kill God himself, as if God even gives a fuck about any of us, after everything I gave and the world still becomes this mess, ridden with monsters and I couldn't stop any of it Mathias, I couldn't stop it, I couldn't stop..."

Leon was sobbing. He could hear it in his voice, the way it slid up in pitch made him feel sick. And Vlad was just watching, hands clenching, one arm stretching out as if he wanted to reach out to comfort him like old times. But this wasn't old times any more.

"None of it was your fault, Leon."

"Why? Because you're too damn smart I never stood a chance?" Leon spat.

"No... No... Because it wasn't your job to take care of me. It wasn't your job to track anyone down or defeat monsters. You took that upon yourself because you're good, Leon," Vlad shook his head. "You know I was jealous of you?"

"No you weren't."

"Oh, but I was. Not of your stubbornness, or impatience, or how you'd fall asleep during the Commander's lectures and I'd have to wake you up every time you were almost caught... But of your light. Your kindness. Your willingness to help others. If you are at fault for anything it's caring too much, and I would not fault you for that. And then I infected your light, with my darkness. And for that, and all the pain I have ever caused you, I am sorry."

Silence stretched between them. Leon heaved and tried to control himself, shuffling back every time Vlad tried to get any closer. Hating himself for how much he wanted to allow Vlad to touch him.

"Why are you here Leon?" Vlad said, eventually. "Why did you come to me? What do you want?"

"I... I don't know. I don't know what I expected. Probably that I wouldn't believe any apology if you gave one... but now... I don't believe you're lying and I don't know what to do with that. I spent so long being angry at you. And... I'm tired, Mathias."

"I know. I am too," A pause. "But you didn't answer my question."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth, Leon. You were never a coward. Don't start being one now." He stepped closer again. "Lisa gave her blessing for me, for us, to do whatever we want in here. So I ask you again, what do you want? Why would she say that? Unless she knows something about you that I don't."

Another step closer.

"I've confided in her about everything. She knows our history. She knows what you look like because I still have an old painting of you. Did you know I never thought it out? I couldn't. Do you know why, Leon? Did you ever wonder why I asked you to join me? Do you need it spelled out for you, little lion?"

Leon was backed up against the window now. He could run. If he ran maybe Vlad would let him go and he could start a new life, no vampires, no fucking Dracula.

"I can feel your heart race, Leon. I'd beg you to not hide your truth from me. Not now we're getting this second chance."

Leon scoffed. "As if you'd ever beg."

"You wouldn't know, would you?"

Images raced across Leon's mind. His breathed hitched.

"Why do you want to hear it? So you can gloat? That after all this time, I'm so pathetic that after everything you've done I am still in love with you."

"...All this time?"

Leon winced. "You didn't know?"

"Catching you staring back then, and hearing your heart racing now... Attraction is different from love, Leon."

"Would it have changed anything? If I'd told you back then?"

"...I don't know," Vlad shifted, his hand brushed Leon's arm and when Leon didn't flinch he grew bolder. "And I don't know how we're here now, alive once more, and next to each other. It is almost as if we were fated to find each other again. And despite your... feelings, if you wish me to leave and never come near you again, I will do so. I don't wish to cause you any further pain, Leon, but..."

Vlad towered over Leon, nails scraping over his neck, his chin, tiling his head up. Leon should be afraid.

He wasn't.

"Should you want otherwise..."

Vlad leaned in, slowly, slow enough to allow Leon to back out. He wasn't caged. He could leave.

He placed his hands against Vlad's chest, holding him there.

"Leon?" Fuck his voice sounded wrecked. As if merely being this close was ruining him. As if he was possibly even scared that Leon was rejecting him once more.

But Leon wasn't going to make a mistake twice.

"I need to know this is real, that you're real, that you... That you really want me."

"Sweet boy, I have always wanted you, even when I didn't realise or accept it. I was so blinded by rage and grief, as seems to be my continuous folly. But don't think I didn't see you. That I didn't want. When I offered you a place by my side, I meant it in every way. As my friend, and as my consort. Did you not realise that?"

"It... it wouldn't have mattered, it couldn't have mattered. I would have never joined your crusade against humanity."

"I know. But that's not what I asked."

Leon tried to laugh. "Did I notice that you liked me in return? No. How could I? You were... everything, Mathias. I never thought I could be... enough."

"Oh, Leon," Vlad forced him to meet his gaze once more. "You were always enough."

His warm hands clenched the dark grey tunic as he pushed himself up onto his toes and he sobbed as Vlad's mouth met his.

He'd imagined how his first kiss with Mathias might go many times. Whether he would shyly confess his feelings and Mathias would take him into his arms, or Mathias would come into Leon's tent already knowing what Leon wanted and finally doing something about it, or whether before one last battle Leon would throw caution to the wind.

Being pressed up against a wall by a vampire almost twice his size being kissed as though he might disappear at any moment had never once been one of those fantasies. But Leon was not complaining.

He whimpered and clawed at Vlad, until the other pulled away, letting him breathe.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to shut you up by doing that," Vlad rumbled.

"No," Leon panted. "I don't. I still don't know if I believe all of this is real but, if it is... Perhaps you should show me?"

"Leon... I have to know exactly what you want. I won't hurt you again."

"Anything. Everything. All of you," And then he added. "Please."

Vlad made a noise at the back of his throat and then he was kissing Leon again and picking up him off the ground into his arms. Or at least he tried too, but Leon was already pawing at his belt, his tunic, trying to push everything off him.

They broke away laughing.

"Always too eager and impatient, Leon. Hush. We're both here. Somehow. And after all this time I am going to take my time and enjoy you."

Slower than before, belts were unfastened, boots were kicked, and shirts were pushed off each other's shoulders.

Leon felt unsure of himself for a moment, nervous under Vlad's gaze. But Vlad simply trailed a thumb down Leon's throat, his chest, and curled his hand where it rested around his hip.

"Gorgeous," Vlad murmured, and then his lips were back on Leon's and Leon hadn't really registered they'd moved until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

He braced himself as he expected to be pushed down, but no such push came. Instead, Vlad's hands slid down over his hips, and the rest of his giant body went down with them, kissing his way down Leon's chest until he was kneeling at Leon's feet.

"How would you let me have you?"

Leon shuddered as Vlad looked up at him. Having this powerful creature on his knees before him, asking what he wanted, asking how he was allowed to have him... it made Leon's head spin.

"I already said. I want anything, everything. Place me how you want me."

"I want you to feel good, Leon."

"Yes, and," Leon cut himself off, realising he sounded irritated as if Vlad should know, as if he could guess. "I, I like, that is I would like, I... It would feel good for you to place me how you want me."

"Oh," Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Leon raised a hand to his face, but Vlad snatched it and pinned it to his hip.

"Is that what you enjoy Leon? Is that what you've thought about? Me taking what I want from you? Ravishing you in any way I see fit? Telling you what to do for me?"

Leon moaned. Vlad hadn't touched him and he'd moaned. The urge to crawl into a hole and hide flew from his mind as Vlad smiled. Leon wanted Vlad in control, and Vlad wanted Leon to want him in control.

All Leon had to do was nod his head and Vlad was pushing him onto the bed, moving him, positioning him up on his knees, his back pressed against Vlad's cold chest. Like this, Vlad could run his hands over Leon's body, peer down over Leon's shoulder to see the flush spreading down his chest. But that's not why he'd chosen this position.

"You are a vision, Leon," Vlad signed into neck. "Don't you see?"

He didn't know how he was supposed to see, and whether he was anything special at all in the eyes of someone who had lived long enough to see countless beauties. But a hand grabbed his chin and forced his gaze across the room.

Oh.

His cheeks were red, hair starting to matt against his forehead, thighs shaking, his, fuck, his thighs were slick. He must have already been wet and then pressed his legs together while they were moving. And he could see all of this because there was a mirror in the corner of the room.

He watched, transfixed and embarrassed, as Vlad's hand reached down between his legs.

"You will tell me if I do anything you dislike?"

Leon nodded and that's all the warning he got before a finger dipped down and swirled against his cock.

It was cold. Leon knew it would be cold, but that didn't prepare him. But it wasn't bad. Fuck, it wasn't bad. The finger gently moved in circles, around and around his cock. Leon cried. He bucked his hips but Vlad tutted and held their bodies together with his other hand. That didn't help Leon's want to squirm as now he could feel it. Doubts he had about Vlad's want for him were dripping away as he felt Vlad's cock pressing into the base of his spine.

Vlad teased him like that for a while, drawing circles around his cock until Leon was babbling, begging for more and calling him a fucking tease. Vlad laughed before finally sliding two fingers between his folds and pressing them against his hole.

"Leon," Vlad shuddered as though he could still breathe. "Already this wet for me. I really have kept you waiting, haven't I, little one?"

"Please," Was all Leon could gasp out as he fought uselessly to be able to rock his hips against Vlad's.

Leon cried and his hold body went taught as one of Vlad's fingers pushed inside. He clawed at Vlad's arms, scratching him, head throwing itself back against his shoulder. All the while Vlad hushed him, praised him, while he slid his finger back and forth until a second one joined it.

Vlad's lips mouthed at where Leon's neck met his shoulder, sensitive skin that Leon had exposed by turning his head away, trying to hide his face away in his hair. If he let his eyes wander up without moving his head, he could see his toes curling against the crimson sheets, his calves shaking, his thighs-

He averted his eyes, suddenly scared he would become too overwhelmed if he saw Vlad's fingers thrusting in and out.

Nails scratched at his cheek before Vlad's left hand snaked around them and fingers dug into Leon's cheeks. His eyes half-lidded as his vision shifted, Vlad's hand pushing his head backwards.

"Look."

Vlad's voice had always been beautiful. How many times had Leon's mind wandered whilst Mathias gave some lecture about their next movements, his next plans? How many times had Leon received an order and flushed? How many times had he gone back to his tent, imagining what other orders would sound like in that voice?

It was too easy to obey.

"That's it, Leon. Look at what you've become for me. The proud lion turning into my wanton whore," Vlad's voice was right in his ear, if he could breathe Leon would have felt it. "Were you always like this, underneath? When you would retire to your tent in the camp early, would you put a hand over your mouth while you played with your cock? Would you cry out over having nothing big enough to fill your dripping cunt? Did you imagine any of your knights coming to your aid, I wonder."

"No!" The volume of his own voice shocked Leon. "No, no, I, you have to have... you have to know that it was you, it was always you. Couldn't- Couldn't think straight during briefings, you, you, God, Mathias, it was always you."

He couldn't see Vlad in the mirror, couldn't know if he was shocked, if he was pleased. He couldn't hear his breath hitch. But he could feel Vlad's grip tighten.

"And what would you have done, little lion, if I had heard your muffled moans? If I had heard you crying out my name? If I'd stepped into your tent?"

"Anything. I, I would been embarrassed but if you'd shown any interest, if you'd asked... I would have done anything you asked. Anything, Mathias please."

Leon's hand scrambled and clasped itself around Vlad's arm as the fingers continued to pump in and out of him. It looked obscene, seeing himself stretched out in the mirror, clenching down on seemingly nothing.

"Please, Mathias, I want to see you," He tugged on Vlad's arm, tried to turn his head towards the other man. "I need to see you, need to see you, to know you're real, Mathias please."

Vlad sighed and his fingers pulled out and for a moment Leon was worried he'd ruined everything. But then Vlad was pressing him back into the bed and kissing him. Hands that could crush him were carefully cupping his face.

He'd always been the taller of the two, but whether through his own will or not Vlad had definitely added to his height and Leon and never felt how vastly different their bodies were until now. With a thrill, he realised he was caged.

"Need you," Leon mumbled between kisses.

"You were never good at being patient" Vlad chuckled. "Though I suppose in a way I've made you wait far longer than you should have had too."

"Indeed you have. So will you get on with it?"

One of Vlad's nails flicked against his cock and Leon yelped.

"Imprudence must surely be inherited in you Belmonts. I thought I taught you manners years ago. You were so prettily begging me a second ago and you've already forgotten how to say please," Vlad slunk down the bed until his face was between Leon's legs.

Leon gulped.

"Please."

One long, slow swipe of his tongue over Leon's cunt was enough to have him already wailing. His hips fought to stutter and arch off the bed, but Vlad's hands had him pinned by the hips.

Leon's hand came to his mouth on instinct, embarrassed at how easily he fell apart, afraid he'd give away how touch-starved he was down there.

"None of that, little lion," Vlad growled. "I want to hear every noise I wring out of you, you sweet oversensitive thing. No one has touched you since you've been reborn, hm?"

"Half-right," And this was exactly why Leon wanted to cover his mouth, lest it speak without asking his brain for advice first.

"Half?" Nails dug into hips as Vlad's voice darkened. "Leon..."

"You could call me an old romantic and say I was waiting for you?" Leon's shoulders tensed awkwardly. "It really doesn't need to a huge issue, I don't want you thinking you can't do anything to me, or that I don't know what I want just because I haven't... Just because I'm..."

"A virgin? You didn't think to mention-"

"I wanted you to still want to do this."

"-that I'd get the pleasure of being the first to touch you here? The first to taste you? The first to take you? You thought that would lessen my pleasure?"

"I..."

"You want to put that hand of yours somewhere? Here."

And with that Vlad dove back down, thumbs, pulling apart Leon's labia, spreading him open. One of his hands grabbed Leon's wrist and pulled it down, pulled Leon's hand onto his head. Leon's fingers trembled.

"Take from me, Leon. Take your pleasure, use me to make you come. And only after that shall I fill you like you need."

Well, Leon had never been one to refuse a challenge. Though this was out of his usual area of expertise and was uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

All it took was Vlad wrapping his lips around his cock and sucking to charge Leon into action.

Gasping, he grabbed onto Vlad's hair and started rocking his hips. Vlad moaned at every tug of Leon's hand, and that only made Leon grow bolder. He relished in Vlad's muffled noises as starting grinding into his face, pressing desperately as if he could fuck his cock down Vlad's throat if he tried hard enough.

His reborn body not having even been touched by himself, and how long it had been since he had slid his hand between his legs meant he was never going to last long. He curled inwards, stomach tensing, hardly able to get out any words but Vlad understood. And all it made him do was grab Leon's hips and pull them against his face, mouth opening as wide as it could, tongue breaching Leon's hole and Leon was arching against the bed and flooding Vlad's mouth.

Leon panted as he came down, whimpering as he pushed Vlad's head away from his oversensitive cock. From his lips down, Vlad's face was soaked, but he could not look as though he cared less.

Smirking and pressing a kiss to the inside of Leon's thigh, he asked. "Do you still wish to take me, Leon?"

And any tiredness from his orgasm left him as he remembered what he wanted, what he was finally going to have.

"Please, please," Leon's could hear how slurred his words sounded, as if he was drunk off the pleasure Vlad was giving too him. "Don't, don't fucking tease me anymore, I can take it, please let me take it."

Vlad crawled over him, making hushing noises and kissing his cheeks.

"I don't want to hurt you, Leon."

"You wont. Look at me," Leon pulled their foreheads together. "I want you to fuck me like we've been starved for it, I want you to stretch me open and ruin me for anyone else's cock, you understand?"

Vlad was silent for a moment, before groaning.

"Fuck."

And Leon yelped as he was grabbed, pushed up onto the pillow, legs pulled up into the air, knees trying to reach Vlad's shoulders, his body being bend over itself, as Vlad arranged him to his liking. He could feel Vlad's cock sliding against his hole, not pressing in yet, and fuck he wasn't sure he'd ever felt this desperate for anything in his life.

He reached a hand up, cupped Vlad's cheek, and simply said please once more.

The hand flew away as he gasped, arching, as Vlad's cock pushed inside of him. Vlad grabbed his hand and pressed it back against his cheek, nuzzling into it, kissing it.

"Fuck, Leon, so tight, so warm for me, so perfect," Vlad babbled that and other such praises as he sunk into Leon's welcoming body.

"Don't wait, I can take it, please move," Leon's hand slipped backwards, sliding into Vlad's hair and tugging once more.

Vlad growled, causing Leon to clench around him, before starting to fuck him like Leon had asked.

Leon had never felt this full. Shoving his fingers inside himself in his tent was nothing compared to this. Vlad's cock grazed over every sensitive spot, stretched him out like he'd begged, and he realised he'd been right. He was going to be ruined for anyone else. And fuck the thought only made him wetter. The idea that Vlad was making him take his cock, moulding his body into the perfect sheath. And Leon wanted it, he wanted to be used, he wanted to be useful, to do finally do something right.

"Oh Leon, little lion, my love."

He hadn't realised he was crying, until Vlad's face came down upon his, foreheads touching more move.

"Don't you dare stop," Leon choked out.

So Vlad didn't. He kissed Leon's wet cheeks, licked up his tears, and then licked his way into Leon's mouth.

Leon sobbed, hiccupped, and flung his arms around Vlad's back, trying to pull him closer, burying his face in Vlad's neck.

"Leon, I- Gorgeous boy, I won't last much longer. How many nights I'd thought about ordering you into my tent to have my way with you, having you on your knees like the loyal pup you are, you were always so eager to please, I wondered how pretty you'd look with my cock stuffed inside of you- Fuck- And if you keep clenching around me like that I'll-"

"Do it," Leon begged. "Please, Mathias, inside, come inside. I need it, I've needed it."

"Leon, fuck, I-"

"Please, Vlad."

Vlad's body caged in on Leon, his moan coming out through gritted teeth as he pressed his head down into the pillow beside Leon's. He picked Leon's hips up off the bed and he buried himself inside as he came. And Leon, crying underneath him, shook at the sensation of being filled and held and was so oversensitive, his cock brushing against Vlad's stomach, that he came again, leaking around Vlad's cock.

Time seemed to stop for a while. Leon gasped over and over, trying to regain a normal pattern of breathing. His body finally started to move when he willed it too, hands reaching for Vlad's face, coaxing him up from the pillow and peppering his face with kisses even as Vlad flinched and shook. Christ, Vlad was trembling.

Slowly, Leon rocked his body to the side until Vlad moved with him, the two of them rolling over, gasping as Vlad's cock slipped out of Leon.

Vlad seemed far away. Eyes unfocused, either lost in the haze of his orgasm or lost in thought. Leon pursed his lips, starting to worry. He wasn't regretting his actions. Maybe he should, but he wasn't. For the first time in a long time, he had felt wanted, and safe... and loved.

He traced the sharp lines of Vlad's cheekbones with his fingers.

"I don't know what happens now," Leon sighed. "I loved you for so long, and then I hated you for so long... but I never stopped loving you, even though all that hate. And I don't know this new world, I don't know how to start again."

"Come with us."

"What?" Leon would have sure he misheard but, Vlad was looking at him as though he was precious, as though he couldn't bear to have Leon say no to him again. "You're serious? What about..."

"Do you think I would have come here with discussing what happens next with my wife?" Leon flinched at her title, perhaps he was a little jealous, but more than that he didn't want to become some sort of homewrecker. "Cease your worrying, Leon. While it was not our original plan... Though none of this was our original plan, she does not view you as competition to my heart. She... understands, she always does. And she would like to know you better, and with that I suppose ask all manner of questions about my youth which will embarrass me, and you will tell her, and you will bond over whatever annoying habits I will carry out, and then, should you wish it, she may join us next time."

"She, she what, she, she would want...?"

"She said you looked 'quite adorable' when you got flustered."

"Oh God," Leon groaned, hiding his face in his hands as Vlad laughed.

"She is right of course. But then she is about all things."

"I can tell. She seems... Wonderful."

"She is... far more than I deserve."

"I think that's up for her to decide."

Vlad barked a laugh. "That's exactly what she would say."

"Well, it appears to me you have a thing for self-assured blondes."

Vlad's expression fell and Leon wondered if he'd crossed a line, but Vlad's mouth twisted and he wouldn't meet his gaze. Oh fuck he looked sheepish, almost embarrassed at having been called out.

Leon took pity on him and leant in to kiss his cheek, the corner of his mouth, drifting across his lips.

"I would find it an honour to get to know her better. And I would... I don't think I have it in me to refuse you again."

"Truly?" Vlad's hand came to rest upon Leon's cheek, tentatively as though he was purposely trying to be gentle and feared he couldn't be.

"Ask me like you did back then."

It was a selfish request, a twisted fantasy Leon thought he should have felt wrong for, but he asked anyway. It made Vlad pause and furrow his brow.

"Leon," He hesitated. "Would you join me?"

He should feel wrong, it should feel wrong. But it didn't. And after everything, maybe he was allowed to be selfish.

"Yes," Leon breathed against Vlad's lips. "And I'll tell any god who tries to stop us to fuck off."

Vlad laughed as Leon kissed him. Tomorrow Leon and Lisa would gather whatever supplies and food they could carry, and find a place to stay that was further away from anyone who could potentially recognise Dracula. And they would talk, and eat, and Leon would share embarrassing stories about Vlad so that when he woke Lisa couldn't look at him without giggling. And Vlad would kiss her. And Leon would feel wrong for a moment, before Vlad called him over and kissed him as he blushed and stammered. And when they would part Leon would flush deeper at Lisa staring at them, having watched, as she smiled with ideas swirling in her eyes. And Leon would wonder what he was getting himself into.

But he wouldn't regret it.

#i wrote a thing!! my last fic/writing ws august 2022 omgg #and my last e rated fic was uhh... well i wrote a couple drabbles in 2023 but my last fully written e rated fix #was in uhh march 2021 and that was unfinished so uh last finished properly written non-drabble e rated fix was in 2020 #i wrote a thing finallyyyy #i just have to really love the characters to write for them and i love these too so much #and theres not really much other stuff for leon being in teh castlevania show universe and i wanted that #castlevania #leon belmont #mathias cronqvist #vlad tepes #leon x mathias #fanfic #fanfics #fics #writing #castlevania lament of innocence #mathias x leon #leon x dracula #the vampire writes

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saritapaleo · 3 months ago

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Patreon request for @/brittoniawhite (Instagram handle) - Thylacinus cynocephalus. I’ve drawn this guy already, but here’s a new pose AND a size chart, which the previous post didn’t have.

Known by several common names: the Tasmanian Tiger, Tasmanian Wolf, or simply the Thylacine, Thylacinus cynocephalus was neither canine nor feline, but instead a large carnivorous marsupial.

Being a marsupial, it had a pouch. Though it was unique in that both females and males had pouches: the males’ were used to protect their reproductive organs. Thylacine life expectancy was estimated to be between 5 and 7 years, though some captive specimens lived to 9 years. They were shy and nocturnal carnivores, likely eating other marsupials such as kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, and possums, as well as other small animals and birds, such as the similarly extinct Tasmanian Emu. However, it is a matter of dispute whether the thylacine would have been able to take on prey items as large or larger than itself. It is unknown whether they hunted alone or in small family groups, though captive thylacines did get along with each other.

Thylacinus cynocephalus was the last of the Thylacinids, a family of Dasyuromorph marsupials. It lived from the Pleistocene to the Holocene in Australia and New Guinea, driven to extinction in the 1930s by hunting, human encroachment, disease, and feral dogs. The thylacine was already extinct on the Australian mainland and New Guinea by the time British settlers arrived, with the island of Tasmania being its last stronghold. Settlers feared the marsupial would attack them and their livestock, demonizing it as a “blood drinker”, and bounties were put in place that drove the thylacine to be overhunted. As they became rarer, there was a push to capture thylacines and keep them alive in captivity, but unfortunately it was too little, too late. Conservation and animal welfare was not at the level it is today, not much was known about their behavior in the wild, and there was only one successful birth in captivity. Studies show that with continued successful breeding, a campaign to change public perception, and protections put into place much earlier, the thylacine could have been saved. But the last captive thylacine died in 1936, and official protection was not put in place until that year, 59 days before his death. Sightings continued into the 1980s, and even today some claim to see them, but all of these sightings are unconfirmed and unlikely. As are all the other animals on this account, the thylacine is definitively extinct.

Today, carnivores such as wolves and coyotes are demonized in the same way the thylacine was, and there are some who wish to also wipe them out entirely, even having succeeded in many places. While some of the thylacine’s closest relatives, like the Numbat and Tasmanian Devil, survived the European persecution which killed off the thylacines, they are still endangered today due to introduced predators and disease. Instead of continuing to search for, or trying to resurrect the lost thylacine, perhaps it is best we channel that attention, love, and regret on the species we still have. Extinction is forever, and it is easier to save those who are still alive.

This art may be used for educational purposes, with credit, but please contact me first for permission before using my art. I would like to know where and how it is being used. If you don’t have something to add that was not already addressed in this caption, please do not repost this art. Thank you!

#Thylacinus cynocephalus #thylacinus #thylacine #tasmanian tiger #tasmanian wolf #marsupials #mammals #synapsids #Australia #Tasmania #Pleistocene #Holocene

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untitledmemes · 1 year ago

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Castlevania: Nocturne Prompts

Part II An assortment of prompts taken from the show Castlevania: Nocturne on Netflix. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ We need to know the truth, don't we? ”

“ This time, I'm coming with you. ”

“ What do you think? Do you think he's right? ”

“ I don't know what you're talking about. ”

“ Are you sure this path is right? ”

“ Which demon will claim his price when all this is done? ”

“ And you think he can protect you? ”

“ You just happened to stumble upon it one day when you were picking flowers? ”

“ My soul is at peace. Which yours will never be. ”

“ Did you think we were flirting? ”

“ We don't have to pretend we like each other. ”

“ I hope you don't have a weak stomach. ”

“ We thought we could change the world. ”

“ What have you done? ”

“ We have to go. We have to get out of here! ”

“ Now, everywhere we look, there are nightmares. ”

“ If I'd let my past terrify me, I'd never be free of it. ”

“ Where are you staying? ”

“ I don't waste my time imagining things that will never be. ”

“ Let's make a new world. ”

“ I know what your nightmares are made of. ”

“ You don't need me. ”

“ Maybe I'm tired of fighting. ”

“ You talk of freedom. Freedom for whom? ”

“ The man I used to know would stare at himself now in disgust. ”

“ I was a fool to trust you. I wish I would have never met you. ”

“ Aren't you supposed to be clever? ”

“ I'm so bored of empty terror. This is much, much sweeter—despair. ”

“ Hold on, I need some fucking answers! ”

“ Where the fuck have you been all my life? ”

“ We had a fucking deal. ”

“ I've been here all the time, keeping an eye on you. ”

“ I was a hero... once. ”

“ Evil will always win. And it's everywhere. ”

“ It's the source of your fury, but not the source of your power. ”

“ There is light in this darkness. ”

“ I was in love with him. I wanted him to be with me forever. ”

“ Most important thing is to face the truth about yourself. Even if it's not very pretty. ”

“ I was going to say something witty, cutty and brutal before I finished you off. But fuck it. ”

“ How did it happen? ”

“ I have some good news. ”

“ You'll have to speak to me sooner or later. ”

“ I've got a lot to tell you. ”

“ The time for compromise is over. ”

“ Everyone has a weakness. ”

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oplishin · 5 months ago

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what are your thoughts on patho 2 re race

i don't think you were looking for such a long response but uhhh you're getting one!!!!! smarter people have discussed this better, but i have a lot of feelings.

the good:

the broad strokes of artemy's relationship to his race: everytime i have replayed p2, i find myself surprised by how much artemy's angst resonates with me. he can fit into the broader, white culture of the Town, but that acceptance is always conditional. his friends have this "you're not like them" attitude, or they're just outright racist to him. they hate his people but like him. He's also not accepted by the Kin- he's spent too much time both in the Town and outside of it. the way elders in the community chide him is too real, haha. artemy discovering that the cultural practices he ran away from in his youth actually really, really matter to his identity is a feeling i find uhhh really relatable!!! this aspect of p2 just rings really emotionally true.

i like the way (some of) the racism is written: vlad jr is obsessed with learning about the culture of the Kin, he's even gained some trust with them, but wow, he does not give a shit about them when it comes down to it. they're an object of study to him, artifacts to collect, not actually people. andrey takes the cultural art of twyre tinctures and uses it to make a profit and to get really high. he keeps a dancing herb bride in his bar as entertainment. rubin's deal feels similar, he's learning kin traditions because of his weird weird relationship with isidor, but he hates the people. i like that foreman oyun sells out his culture, and that he hates himself so much for it.

okay. it's only downhill from here.

the bad. there's a lot:

the endings

i think the endings are cynical to the point of being unnuanced and un-interesting. the tragic mulatto trope played as straight as possible to a comically extreme degree. either almost every NPC you've met dies, or you destroy the remnants of your indigenous culture. it's just. i don't know. it wouldn't be very pathologic for this to have an actual magical solution- there isn't a magical solution in real life, the status quo just churns onward, and indigenous bodies and lives are discounted. i don't know. i don't know!

i hate that the game presents the diurnal ending as better than the nocturnal one. this is the part where my faulty memory is troublesome- i may be getting the way the fandom treats the endings mixed up with the way the game does. sorry if that's the case! the diurnal ending is bright, the town you've spent so much time saving is safe at last, all your children and friends are rebuilding their lives in interesting ways that you get to take part in. but it's fucking disgusting! the bodies and lives and culture of indigenous people are utterly discounted. this includes artemy, who's doomed to forever try to fit into white society, to never be able to pass on his cultural traditions, who just has to let himself die. the only person who mourns is a dying Aspity, who was one of the last people to carry on and teach tradition anyways. it's terrible.

i,, honestly do not remember much of the nocturnal ending, and a lot of went over my head when i played it. the majority of people read the nocturnal ending as "the bad ending"- all your friends die. and even though they're all super racist, you care about them, probably.

whyyyyyy are the indigenous characters written Like That????

it is fucking embarrassing that 26/29 of the Bound are white. i cannot believe this did not change with 14 years of hindsight post p1. well, the game did add nara, and she deserves her own paragraph!!!! wow, lucky her!!!!!!!!! the kin are so fucking underrepresented within the major characters. the white characters are given complex, differing perspectives about the nature of government, spirituality, morality and guilt. pathologic 2 writes the Kin as a mystical, esoteric hivemind. the non-diversity in the perspectives within the Kin was always something that bothered me, even when I was 15. They do not feel like a real, breathing living group of people. minority groups are not monoliths. i think the game wants to represent them as a collectivist culture, but is too racist to know that people within collectivist cultures uhhh have opinions about things.

p2's racism is just slightly more subtle than p1's, to the point where my stupid fucking 15 year old self didn't pick up on it as much. but god, it also asks the incredible question "what if racist stereotypes were true? wouldn't that sort of justify mass genocide? isn't the diurnal ending just as valid as the nocturnal ending?"

so much justification for the white characters' racism within the fandom comes from "but the indigenous characters did [x] bad thing! but their culture is misogynist!" which 1) fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you 2) someone made the active choice to write the indigenous characters like this. now why would they do this??

the misogyny

god i fucking hate the herb brides. i know that the fandom has tried to reclaim them in interesting ways. i just really cannot. why are these dancers all soft and curvy in the correct ways? why do their clothes fall off to look like they're wearing raggedy skimpy swimsuits? why are gamers soooo horny?? i'm. i cannot! i can't. this game has an asian women fetish. no thanks!

this brings me to the nara thing, which, okay. i'm about to get really mean!!! nara is this demure, docile, exotically sexy lady who's totally cool with giving up her agency artemy and being killed by him because the game has deemed it necessary. sorry, i do not care abotu the diegetic reasons for this. there's a dream sequence where her sexy sillohuette dances in the void. why? this game has a misogyny problem! and a yellow fever problem!! so much of her dialogue is dedicated to "ohhh i'm trying to make you less uncomfortable with this, artemy :(. i'm indifferent i promise :((" she doesn't protest in her death, she just says lore at the player. i'm not happy. i find the attempts to reclaim her in fandom admirable, i'm just. disgusted! by all of it! this game owes me reparations.

#man it feels strange to get an ask about pathologic in the year 2024. from a wrestling mutual also hahaha #mop game #asks #pre-emptively turning reblogs off because i am SCARRED by the discourse

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thedeafprophet · 3 months ago

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If you don't mind me asking, who were your tes ocs?

Ah im being visited by the ghost of Hyperfixations past. I'm giving a warning that the art here is older, some more so then others.

SO I had a few characters.

behold: old pinterest boards [this is not all of them lol]

But my main oc who I've had since i was like 13 is Eliana. She's changed a lot over the years. I was, suffice to say, pretty obsessed with her for quite awhile.

She was my main PC for Skyrim, and she primarily did the Dragonborn stuff alongside Dawnguard and the like [i split up the different plotlines among different characters]. She's a battlemage, uses a combination of fire magic and sword work, and tends to wear more lighter armor for dexeterity based moves. Originally from Hammerfell, she came to Skyrim on a rather personal mission before, yknow, all hells broke loose and oh boy! Suddenly you're expected to save the world and also you're not entierly mortal, have fun with that.

(Also fun fact, while obviouslly not by name in universe, she has type 2 waardenburg syndrome, which is why her eyes are discoloured + has hearing loss)

El's generally a pretty friendly and sweet girl, but she very much tends to get caught up in her own head, and struggles a lot with the balance between power and responbility, and uh, quite a lot of ptsd and stress by the end of it. theres a lot more but uh, we would be here forever lmao.

and uh. i guess ill give a brief overview of the others under the cut. I had vague ideas of a lot of them exisiting in the timeline and their interactions overlapping.

Laymus is an imperial who originally grew up on a farm with a lot of siblings. He struck out on his own in hopes of taking a stronger control of his own life, and because there wasn't really much for him there. Primarily a hunter, Laymus had an unfortunate encounter with a werewolf... which, left a substiantial impact on his being. He specializes in archery and fighting from a distance... at least, most of the time. [yea he's a werewolf lol. i was gonna do the companions quest with him but never got around to it. i usually play as him when im playing with survival mods, its very fun. he was also one of my earliest forays into having a transmasc oc ]

Faelynn is a bosmer, but was actually raised in Cyrodiil by her adoptive father, who ran a tavern there. She is considerbly older then some of my other characters, and long since outliver her human parent. She had a fascination in poisons from a young age, and after an... incident, became far more invested in them. She is the character I play through the dark brotherhood with, specializes in daggers and poison, alongside alchemy.

Erion is an aldermi character of mine, someone who's family has ties to the thalmor, an area of which he does not connect to. He has a rather.... unfortunately complicated history with his family, that was made all the more interesting by an encounter with Nocturnal at a young age...

He focuses on shadowy skills, a master of sneaking and not being seen when he doesn't want to be. He is the one i do the thieves guild questline with.

Adra is a dunmer, and grew up with a particularly strong set of daedra worshippers, which, suffice to say, has some complications with her background. She vaguely remembers her mother, but has little concept of who her father could even have been. She struggles a lot with self esteem and has a tendancy towards jealousy of those she percieves as doing better then her.

She specializes as a mage, primarily in destruction magic, with a knack for electricity and lightning. She is a student at the college of winterhold.

and that covers the main ones! Or, at least the ones i play the game with anyway. Honourable mentions are Valia and Ashanta, who are Eliana's mothers.

These two met during the battles between Hammerfell and the Aldmeri Dominion, of which Ashanta was a warrior on Hammerfell's side, and Valia was a healer of whom defected, their paths crossing. Its quite a tale in and off itself!

Valia died prior to the start of skyrim.......... the aldmeri are particularly kind to defectors, we shall say.

And then i have a few others. Anja is a nord background character concept I made, who runs a bakery in Riverwood [inspired by me learning about the history of bread making and the important of a baker in a town]. She also ends up adopting some of the orphans in the game lol. Allian is my oblivion character who wasnt ever super developed, i should get back to that... he's an imperial, and is actually Laymus' uncle.

I'm pretty sure I have a few more somewhere but uh. yea! thats the base up of it. hope you were prepared for my great overview XD XD

#man. i miss these guys #anyway yea skyrim and the elder scrolls in general was a major fixation of mine for many many years so... i have a lot!#you can kinda tell where i split things up with the characters as a kid when i decided it didnt make sense for El to complete every part of #the game proper lol #these guys still mean a whole lot to me even if i would probably approach some things differently now #asks #tes #oc talk

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theraggedygirl11 · 11 months ago

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Sospeso tra finzione e realtà

SUMMARY: Bojan was turned into a vampire some years before. The band met the famous photographer Damon Baker while in London and now it's time for Bojan's photoshoot, but something unpleasant happens.

PAIRING: Bojan Cvjetićanin/Kris Guštin/Damon Baker (+kind of implied poly!jo)

WARNINGS: anxiety/panic attack, blood, sex (not too explicit), angst and more angst, hurt/comfort, death/homicide mentioned, slight torture

WORDS COUNT: 4.891

LINK: AO3

NOTES: This comes from a collective work that's going on since last July or August, I don't remember. The AUs spawned on their own, we have too many and you'll find everything under the tag #vampire!bojan and #vampire!bojan storyline. So, I'd like to thank @signoraviolettavalery who supported my nocturnal brainrot in this post here, and also @touchyourblood and @nyx-aira who added a general background in this other post.

The title comes from this Italian song, feel free to go and listen to it. Here you can read the translation into English.

This is not beta-read, we die like men here! I just took what @signoraviolettavalery and I wrote, put it together and wrote something more around it

I just hope I added every tw in the tags, if something's missing, feel free to tell me and I'll add them!

* * *

“Bojan, are you sure you want to do this?” Kris asks while looking at the vampire. “You know you’ll be all alone with Damon, right? And that you’ll end up showing your vulnerable side?”

“Yes, Krisko. I’m fine, and I’ll be fine,” he reassures him before pecking his lips. “I fed on Jure this morning, I’m relaxed, I feel good, London is showing its sunny side and I’m ready to conquer the world!” He even giggles. He’s truly in a good mood and full of energy.

“Call any of us if anything happens, ok?” Kris looks at him, still worried.

“Yeah, sure, don’t worry,” Bojan winks at him, then quickly kisses the others before leaving their apartment to go and meet Damon at his house.

Damon and he already discussed about his photoshoot, so Bojan knows what he’s about to face. He’s truly relaxed, he didn’t lie to Kris. That part of his life is over, behind his back forever.

As soon as he arrives at Damon’s, he changes his clothes to the ones they chose for his photoshoot: tight leather trousers, a leather belt with a broken heart on it, an oversized shirt and an untied bowtie around his neck. Oh, he loves this outfit, it’s sexy and makes him look so much masculine, but at the same time he starts feeling uncomfortable, uneasiness crawling up his spine. The Bojan he sees in the mirror isn’t the Bojan he wants to show to the world. He notices a shade of red in his eyes and immediately changes them back to brown.

“Are you ready, honey?” Damon asks while getting closer to Bojan. “Oh, you look amazing, sweety. I could ride this cowboy any time! Or you could ride me,” he winks.

Bojan giggles. He’s now used to Damon flirting with him. He likes it. “We can go, I’m ready.”

The photoshoot starts. The poses that Bojan decides to do exhale aggressiveness and masculinity, and the more the photoshoot goes on, the more aggressive they become. He doesn’t want to, but his instincts tell him to do so, to assert his dominance over the person who’s taking pictures and the ones that will see them. He’s unconsciously showing the predator inside him that is violently ramping against the weak human surface, it wants to come out because it feels in danger. And what does an animal in a dangerous situation? It shows aggressiveness and attacks.

The moment Damon gets closer with his camera, something snaps inside Bojan. His entire body is petrified. His mind shows him a memory he thought he had locked up in the deepest corner of his mind. He’s again in front of her, she’s taking pictures of him right after she fed on him. He’s covered in blood, he’s crying and begging her because he’s feeling dizzy, he just wants her to lick the bitemarks to close them or he will bleed off.

But she keeps taking those pictures, she grins showing her fangs and her lips still stained with blood of the most vibrant shade of red. She’s in full control and the only thing he can do is stay there and hoping she will make him stop bleeding. Tears run down his face. He’s so scared, so powerless and hopeless. He wants that all that ends as soon as possible.

In the present Bojan’s eyes got red. He didn’t even notice, at least until Damon brings him back from the spiral he was falling into.

“W-What are-”

He can’t even finish the sentence. Bojan snaps back into reality and in a blink of an eye he attacks the photographer in front of him, pinning him down on the ground. The camera slides on the floor while he grabs the human’s wrists with his hands and blocks them above his head. He growls, showing his fangs in an intimidating way. Bojan’s on top of the photographer, his instincts full in control of his actions, he can’t even recognize Damon.

“B-Bojan...?” Damon whimpers, terrified.

The fog that invaded Bojan's mind and finally fades away and he can restraint his vampiric instincts. He stands up faster than a normal human would. He’s afraid of what he just did, he feels so ashamed for having lost his control.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to-”

He just runs away, out of the window. He doesn’t care if someone sees him, he just needs to go away, far, far away from Damon. He looks like a scared prey chased by an unknown predator. While he tries to remember where to go to reunite with his bandmates, he looks around, overwhelmed by sounds and smells and colours and lights.

He’s panting, he’s panicking, his mind is barely functioning at this point, he’s letting his impulses rule over his actions. He doesn’t even know how, but he manages to go back to the apartment, jumping from one roof to the other.

Bojan enters the room where Nace and Kris sleep through the window. He immediately searches for Kris’s colourful sweater in his suitcase. He needs some familiar scent around him to calm himself down. His heart is beating fast in his chest, his eyes are still red. He’s still wearing the clothes he was using in the photoshoot.

When he finds the sweater, he puts it immediately on and lets Kris’s smell surround him. He takes deep breaths and closes his eyes. He tries to block everything else out. He sits on the ground, right next to the bed. His knees are against his chest and his arms embrace them. He’s trying so hard to look smaller.

You are safe, Bojan. You are safe. Damon is alive, you didn’t kill him. You are safe. He keeps repeating these sentences in his mind, trying to regain control over his body, now dominated by fear and panic. He is shaking too.

After some minutes someone enters. He’s too focused on Kris’s scent to identify who that person is.

“Bojan?” This voice is worried.

Soon after a hand is laying on his shoulder. Bojan winces and raises his head suddenly. It’s Nace.

“What happened?”

Bojan doesn’t answer, he just hugs Nace and hides his face against his chest.

“I-I couldn’t do it. I-I showed myself. He knows-”

“Hush, hush,” Nace gently caresses his hair after hugging him back. “It’s ok,” he whispers. “Breathe. You are safe here, no one’s going to hurt you here.”

It takes Bojan at least fifteen minutes to calm down. He slipped, he thought he could be strong enough to face that photoshoot, but something clearly snapped in him and made him reveal himself. And he’s so ashamed of it.

“Let’s go to the others,” Nace suggests when he sees that Bojan is a little bit more relaxed. His eyes are now brown and he stopped shaking.

They go down the stairs together, holding hands. He can hear the others talking in that small living room, but their voices stop when they see Nace with Bojan, with Kris’s sweater and not his own clothes on. They know that something’s wrong. And Bojan confirms their suspects.

“He knows.”

Two simple words, but they all understand.

“Oh, Bojč,” Kris sighs, then stands up and hugs the vampire.

“I-I thought I was over her, b-but-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kris replies, interrupting him. “We’ll talk to Damon and we’ll find a solution. But now you are more important. Come here and sit with us.”

That evening the band take care of Bojan. They cuddle with him, they prepare his favourite human food, they make him feel comfortable, safe and loved. And in the end he falls asleep on Jure’s shoulder, exhausted by the intense emotions he felt that day.

Nace takes him in his and Kris’s room so they can sleep with him in the middle. It is a “standard procedure” when Bojan happens to have a bad day. Having familiar scents around him helps him to relax and feel safe.

The next day Kris wakes up before anyone else because he needs to drink some water. He goes downstairs, but his attention is caught by his phone buzzing. He takes it. It’s a message from Damon.

Damon: Hey Kris. Yesterday happened something uncomfortable during Bojan’s photoshoot. I’m really sorry.

Damon is still online and is trying to write something else, but he keeps stopping. Kris decides to reply.

Kris: We know he’s a vampire. He told us what happened yesterday.

Damon: I guessed you should know, you are so intimate with one another

Damon: Is he ok?

Kris: More or less, he managed to sleep at least

Damon: Do you think Bojan would like to meet me again?

Damon: I just want to talk with him

A couple of days later, a bit reluctantly, Bojan is again at Damon’s house. He drank blood before going, just to be able to control himself better. In a bag he has the clothes he wore the other day.

Damon lets him in and welcomes him with a smile.

Bojan knows Damon is afraid of him, he can smell his fear in the air and feel it in his heart beating faster than the usual. He harnesses his predator’s instincts with all the strength he has. He doesn’t want to be intimidating.

They sit, Damon on an armchair, Bojan on the couch. They are far from each other. There’s silence between them, both are nervous. But Damon talks first.

"Look, I'm still a little scared. I mean, who wouldn't be? It's human instinct, right? You'd think there was something wrong if I wasn't scared." And Bojan, who remembers what it feels like to be preyed on, nods.

"But I've also gotten to know you. I've gotten to see you. I think you're a good person. And I think you're just as scared of what you are. Maybe even more."

Bojan nods again. "This thing...it's like this monster inside me that I have to control. A demon."

"I know a little something about having a demon inside me," Damon says and Bojan's eyes widen. Oh. "But you find ways to control it, right? To cope. A support network, friends who keep you from falling."

Bojan nods again. "Kad neman tebe, sa mnom su moji demoni," he says. "It's from our song. 'when you're not with me, my demons are with me.' My friends are there for me, and they keep the demons away."

Silence falls again between them. Well, at least for Damon. Bojan’s ears are dominated by the constant beating of Damon’s heart, the blood pumping in his vessels that sings to him, calls him.

Damon breaks again the silence and asks one basic question. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Bojan sits straight, his body stiffens. Damon is curious, but his vampire instincts allow him to recognize the stance of a prey that's trying to not look nervous or scared.

Should he talk? Should he tell him how he got turned? Should he explain to Damon why he snapped during the photoshoot? Should he really allow himself to be this vulnerable with a guy he barely knows?

But Damon, poor little scared human Damon, seeing that Bojan doesn't talk, asks him another question, trying a new way to communicate with him.

"How should I approach you? Like, are there movements or stuff I should avoid doing to make you feel more comfortable? Or words, I don't know. I don’t want to trigger any negative reaction in you."

Bojan then starts talking, even if he's hesitant. He explains that his senses are much sharper than a human’s, so he's bothered by strong noises, intense lights, very rich smells, but for a brief period of time he can resist.

"How do I smell like?"

"I beg your pardon?" Bojan is really confused. Why that question?

"How do I smell like? How's my scent?"

Bojan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, focusing on Damon. The scent of fear is slowly disappearing. "It's sweet. Comfortable. It makes me feel safe, in some way," and it’s tempting, but he keeps these words for himself.

And there Damon smiles widely. "That's perfect, because I have something for you to wear, honey." He gets up and takes this stripped and fluffy black and white piece of clothing from a bag next to the armchair. "This is my favourite sweater. It makes me feel safe and I'd like you to wear it," and stands up, gets closer and hands him the sweater, which of course is soaked in Damon's scent.

Bojan's brain stops working because, well, he didn't expect this reaction. Damon, still afraid of him, is asking him to wear a piece of clothing that makes him feel safe. Some sort of peace offering.

I want you to feel safe with me, even though I’m still scared. This is how Bojan reads this gesture. His hearts almost melts.

He grabs the sweater and smells it, inhaling his scent and shivering. He quickly takes off his jacket and shirt, then wears the sweater. It’s warm and fluffly and soft. He’s immediately enwrapped by Damon’s scent.

“It suits you,” Damon says, giggling.

“It’s a nice sweater,” Bojan replies, nodding and hinting a shy smile.

The vampire is really feeling safe with it on. He wasn’t afraid of Damon per se, he’s not dangerous, it was the photoshoot that made him feel too vulnerable and made resurface bad memories.

Damon, seeing that Bojan is lulled by the comfort of his sweater, tentatively suggests "if you're comfortable with it...I'd like to photograph that side of you, too. Not for the public, of course. Just...for us. Photography is how I get to know someone, and that's a part of you too."

"I don't want to scare you," Bojan admits.

"I'm already scared. But that doesn't matter. I want to know you, all of you."

Their eyes meet, prey and predator, human and vampire, two creatures completely different but similar at the same time. And Bojan feels some kind of connection with Damon, something he haven’t felt since the first time he saw his bandmates after the transformation.

In the end Bojan agrees to this, tentatively. But he wants Kris to be there with him, just in case. Kris knows exactly how to calm him down. He will know what to do or say if he loses control.

“You won’t need me, you're not going to lose control," Kris says while looking at the vampire. "Even if he does smell extra tasty."

"How do you know that?" Bojan asks.

"I know you," Kris replies. "I know that when you inhale his scent, you want."

Bojan diverts his look and starts fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. Well, with Jan’s sweater. Having his bandmates clothes on helps him relax and push back his anxiety, so it’s easy seeing him with clothes owned by the others.

A couple of days later Bojan it’s time for him to show that side of himself to Damon. Kris is with them, just to reassure both human and vampire.

Damon's obviously still scared, Bojan can smell it. But he doesn't run away when Bojan changes his appearance in front of him, sharp claws and fangs, eyes of the purest and the most intense red ever seen.

Damon admires this version of Bojan, stunned by his beauty. He looks Bojan in the eyes, and gets close, and takes those photos. Beautiful photos that capture not just the 'monster' inside him, but also the fear, the uncertainty, the angst Bojan is consumed by. How he doesn't want to be the monster. His red eyes on display and a look of sheer terror on his face...which is quite a photo, because predators don't usually look terrified. That's reserved for preys.

Kris observes silently and not so far away from them. He’s worried more for Bojan than for Damon. He knows how much this photoshoot is testing Bojan’s self-control on his vampiric side and memories.

And that’s why after the shooting Bojan needs time to decompress, to relax and make his human side come back to the surface. Kris, who was there the whole time, helps him, with tender words whispered to reassure him, caresses and kisses.

Damon observes them, silently. Bojan is a predator, he could kill both of them and they could do nothing about it because he's faster, stronger, he’s built to hunt and murder his preys, to feed on them, just like a lion or a tiger. Now he’s so vulnerable, so human.

But that scene is so intimate, so caring, Damon almost feels he's third wheeling. Kris trusts Bojan with his life because he’s keeping the vampire’s mouth so close to his neck, he’s letting him inhale his familiar scent while running a hand though his soft hair.

Damon decides to ask another question, because in the end he's curious to know about Bojan and his kind. He saw vampires portrayed on the screen, many variants, but he's different. He's a real vampire.

"May I ask one thing? You don't need to answer, if you don't want to."

Bojan looks at him, fangs no more visible but eyes still a little bit red-ish.

"Yeah, sure."

"What's the most intimate act your kind can perform with a human? Like, how can a human show to a vampire that they fully trust them?"

"Feeding," Bojan answers after a short silence. "Feeding directly from the neck or the wrist or any other body part. Giving freely the permission to take something as vital and as important as your blood."

"So do you...feed on your friends?"

Damon's starting to put two and two together. The way Jan had wanted a turtleneck on during his photoshoot. The way Jure had put his photoshoot off for days claiming to be "sick." Were they covering for the bite marks, then?

Bojan gets a slightly panicked look on his face, and it's Kris who answers.

"Yes. With our consent," he reaches for Bojan's hand, squeezes it. "We trust him, and we know he'd never hurt us."

Bojan gives him a shy smile, thanking him for baking him up.

And Damon thinks about that. How intimate they all are with each other. How clearly trusting the other boys are around him. He's been around them all, seen how they cuddle, how close they get to him, how none of them is scared. Remembers Bojan resting his head on their shoulders, or face-planting into their chest, realizing he must have been smelling them, hearing the blood pulse beneath their skin. And they hadn't skipped a beat, hadn't been scared for a single second. He's never seen them too-pale, ashen-faced, too drained of blood and energy to function. Clearly Bojan is careful, never takes too much, and they trust him.

And he realizes he trusts him too.

"Would you like to feed on me?" He asks.

Bojan is obviously hesitant, his entire body stiffened, but Damon immediately adds "it's how a human shows trust, right? Letting you feed. I'd like to do that."

"I - " Bojan is hesitant because he wants. He wants so much. He hadn't been lying, Damon smells so good. He's so drawn to him. He's thought more than once about that beautiful pale neck, about sinking his teeth into it. He’s salivating, savouring Damon’s taste just by smelling him from afar.

"Kris should be there," he says finally. "Just in case. He knows what to do if I - if I lose control."

"Are you likely to lose control?" Damon asks.

"No," Kris says before Bojan can even open his mouth. "He's never lost control, not since I've known him."

He can hear Damon's heart beating, so, so fast. He's nervous. But that heartbeat also calls to him, all that blood beneath the pale skin. He wants. He wants so much. He craves it.

Bojan can feel his eyes changing colour and his fangs becoming sharper. He's struggling to control himself, but he manages to not jump on him right away. Damon’s sweater on him isn’t helping much his self-control. He focuses on Kris heartbeat, slower and more familiar, to keep him grounded.

"It's better if you sit down on the couch. The first time can be overwhelming for both," he suggests.

So Damon and he take place on the couch, Kris follows them, sitting behind Damon. He holds him, a comforting, warm, human touch.

"Do you want to know what you'll feel?" Bojan asks, looking the photographer in the eyes.

One side of Damon wants to know it, so he can at least be prepared, but the other one doesn't. No, he wants to dive into those feelings, experience them without any anticipation. He then shakes his head.

"Where do you want to bite?" he asks then.

Bojan's eyes, now as red as blood, lower and stop on his neck, so pale and so alluring. He feels like a moth attracted by the light of a lantern in the middle of a night without moon, so captivating but so dangerous at the same time.

Kris notices Bojan’s look, where it’s laying, so he puts his hand in Damon's hair, tilting his head back for Bojan, an offering. His gesture is forceful but gentle at the same time.

Bojan leans forward, closes his eyes and kisses Damon’s neck before sinking his fangs in his skin and then deep in his flesh. When the first drops of blood touch his tongue, he moans intensively. Damon's blood is so delicious, much more than what he expected.

Without even realising Bojan straddles Damon's laps and pushes him until he's completely laying on Kris, the vampire on top of him. It feels like ecstasy. Bojan is so used to feeding on his friends that he forgot the pleasure of unknown blood running down his throat. The bond creating between the vampire and the human. The pure sense of trust of letting a creature like him taking away something so important. Damon's blood is singing to him and he could write both melody and lyrics based on what he's feeling in that moment.

He’s too lost in it. He's drinking and drinking and it's addicting. Until Damon starts getting dizzy, eyes feeling closed, and it's Kris who warns him.

"Bojči." Then, more firmly. "Bojan."

And Bojan pulls away reluctantly, dazed, eyes a little glassy, panting with his mouth open and dirty with blood, that's also running down from his lips, dripping on Damon’s white t-shirt.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Damon."

Damon, half-dazed himself, looks up at Bojan, and he sees the fangs and the red eyes but all he can think is how beautiful Bojan looks. His perfect profile, those beautiful features, like something out of a novel, and the blood and the shadows just heighten it. He reaches a weak hand up, traces his cheek, murmurs a feeble "you're beautiful."

Bojan leans forward then, licking the last drops from the wound, licking it closed, but then staying there, breathing in Damon's scent, placing a kiss where the wound had been. And when he moves away, so that he can look at Damon again, Damon's hand has found its way into his hair.

And he doesn't know who moves first, but suddenly they're kissing. They're kissing and Damon is moaning and Kris is there, holding Damon, his hands find their way under Damon's t-shirt, tweaking a nipple, which makes Damon gasp into Bojan's mouth.

Bojan breaks the kiss so reluctantly, resting his forehead against Damon's, murmuring "fuck" a second time. He wants, he wants everything.

Vampires can give different types of bites. The ones given when the vampire wants only to feed are violent and brutal, but the ones given when a human offers his blood and shows his trust...well, those ones are truly intense and can cause great pleasure, both in the vampire and the human.

Bojan notoriously has great self-control, but Damon is really testing his limits. He is scared but at the same time he wants to give in to his instincts, to the taste of pleasure he got from possessing Damon in that way. He wants to possess him totally, in every aspect.

"Kris, I want more," he reverts to Slovenian, his mind is clouded and thinking in English is really hard. His voice sounds more like a growl. He raises his head to look Kris in the eyes.

And Kris recognises the longing in Bojan's red eyes, the desire, the craving. He experienced on his own skin and body the frenzy that blood can cause on a vampire and on the human they feed on.

Damon in the meantime starts kissing Bojan's neck. He wants him too, that bite made him feel all sorts of things, from deep pain to intense pleasure. He expected it to hurt, not to be aroused by it.

Kris wants them too. Maybe it's a sick kink but observing Bojan feeding and moaning because of the blood always awakes something in him.

Kris then kisses Bojan, his lips still dirty with blood, basically giving him the permission to continue what he was doing with Damon.

Bojan grabs Damon’s face with a hand, gently diverting it from his neck, so he can kiss him on the lips deeply. His fangs touch slightly Damon’s lips, making him shudder intensively.

They undress him, soon after their clothes end up on the floor too. Bojan kisses Damon all over his body, tasting his excitement and making him whimper. In those brief moments of clarity, Damon can see that Bojan and Kris are used to do this together, so he completely hands over the control to them.

Oh, the sex with a vampire is even better than drugs. Bojan knows perfectly where and how to touch Damon to make him whimper and moan. He bites him in specific points on his body, liking the wounds right after to not make him bleed out.

Kris joins barely, just to kiss Damon sometimes or to make Bojan tone down what he’s doing, to not make him completely give in to his instincts and do something he will regret.

They all reach their climax at the same time, Kris almost untouched, the view of Bojan carnally possessing Damon was enough for him. They all collapse on the couch, panting and shaking because of the pleasure they just experienced. Damon’s body is covered in bitemarks. Bojan is on top of them, his head is on Damon’s chest, eyes closed.

Kris starts running a hand through Bojan’s hair and plays with some of his strands. That simple gesture can make him calm down and relax after some intense emotions. Damon imitates Kris, still a bit hesitant. And Bojan begins purring, just like a cat.

“Is-is he purring?” Damon asks, surprised.

“Yes,” Kris giggles. “He loves when you touch his hair.”

They keep cuddling Bojan as he slowly gets back from the high of the intercourse.

“It was a photographer who turned me,” he suddenly talks. He decided to explain to Damon why he reacted in that way during their first photoshoot. “She approached me when I was barely 20. She bewitched me, oh-she was stunning, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“A photographer?” Damon asks.

“Yes,” Bojan raises his head to look him in the eyes. He grabs one of his hands and intertwines their fingers. “She thought that I was the perfect muse for her work. She kept taking pictures of me for a couple of years, she fed on me, then turned me against my will, just because she wanted that my beauty lasted forever. Even turned I was helpless, I couldn’t escape, she had full control over me.”

Damon gently caresses Bojan’s cheek, trying to comfort him. He can see the distress he’s feeling while telling him about his past.

“You don’t have to tell me-”

“I want to,” he interrupts him. “You trusted me, you showed it to me, and this is me showing you I trust you. The only people that know my story are my bandmates.”

Damon nods slowly in response. Bojan is showing his other vulnerable side, the moment he lost his humanity to become a demon of the night, a monster that feeds on people to survive. Bojan then keeps telling him his story: how important he felt when he was with her, how he liked her attentions, how she basically tricked him into letting her feed on him and then turn him into this monster, how she dragged Kris into the picture and how they eventually escaped from her.

"I killed her."

“You...killed her?”

Bojan nods. “She was seriously threatening Kris. He is part of my nest, and no one can hurt him. So I snapped, she couldn’t control me anymore and I killed her. I don’t regret what I did, she deserved it.”

Silence falls once again among them. Damon is clearly trying to process that piece of information.

“Vampires are protective of their nest. They are social creatures, just like us humans, and they will do everything to protect the people they care about,” Kris explains.

“Am...am I part of this nest, now?”

Bojan nods. “Yes. I know that we can't be always together, but I’ll make sure no one touches you,” he kisses Damon on the lips. “You accepted me for who and what I am. You are important to me.”

#sospeso tra finzione e realtà #joker out fanfic #joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #annies writes #my writing #<- kind of lmao #vampire!bojan

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