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coffee-in-veins · 2 years

Note

Since we both want to forget about the DD tinfood; what do you think would be some good rations to take into a dungeon? What do heroes like/despise? Eating habits? Bonus points for the heroes' favourite foods, or some signature dishes from their homeland.

Thank you for this ask, and sorry for taking so long to answer! This ask actually allows me to share a lot of things I've looked into for my writing of "Restructured, refractured, recalled" - but it’s mostly background flavour work to add the text its flavour, and usually isn’t too noticeable. Still, I’ve spent quite some time reading and thinking about it. Hyperfixation at its finest, what do you do.

LOADS of ramblings are incoming! Thee hast been warned.

So the thing is, I have to admit that I'm biased in a way - I was researching it all from the perspective of my Heiress, and thus, the decisions made in the food provided (and the housing, technically, but that’s a separate story) are made with her personality in mind, that being cold, calculated and completely, utterly devoid of any understanding of empathy. Therefore, the sustenance was akin to solving a puzzle - how to feed the heroes without it being too costly.

The biggest number of heroes Hamlet could house at any given moment (provided there are fully repaired and upgraded barracks and we count one additional slot provided by Shieldbreaker DLC and no one is out on a mission) is 29. This is huge, considering that Hamlet, if taken in its most literal sense, is a tiny settlement, with a population of fewer than 100 people from what I could gather. Interestingly, “hamlet” is defined as “a small settlement that has no central place of worship and no meeting point, for example, a village hall”, but Hamlet in DD has a whole Abbey. Which I think is supposed to be bigger than mere church...? But frankly, I’m far from being a religious person, so I’m not sure how that is supposed to work or is it yet another “here’s a tin can, don’t think about it if you want your sanity back” thing. We might never know. If someone knows about it, feel free to write to me; I’d love to understand it.

The point of this tangent is that if we assume that Hamlet has a population of 100, adding 29 heroes is impossible for the town to feed on its own. That might explain the need to provide the sustenance for the expeditions out of the Heiress’ pockets at a full price instead of getting it as a tax, for example, from the lands she supposedly owns. And an argument could be made that it’s only a 2:100 ratio when we first come to Hamlet and that the first Vestal is from the Abbey itself, and the first PD is a scholar from a Sanatorium (hence them always being the first additions to your team that you get), and that the population of Hamlet increases with the infrastructure you re-build and the more monsters you clear out the more people come to Hamlet, thus making the food situation more manageable. Another argument can be made that Hamlet is merely a name that historically stuck, and the actual population is much higher than the name would suggest. The fact that even in its most dilapidated state, the town has stone buildings and bridges, and a working harbour, as well as noblemen with titles as high as Countess coming to the Estate in the past somewhat supports this idea. A small settlement wouldn’t be able to feed and support the revelry that Ancestor was supposedly having before your time. Then again, it’s very hard to understand what is a limitation of the game, what is a deliberate artistic choice and what is simply the rule of cool, here.

Now to the food itself.

First of all, there’s foraging during the expeditions themselves. Save for Ruins, there’s always a non-zero chance to find or get food if you know what you’re doing. A bag of herbs can cleanse enough things to sustain a party for at least some time. The real quality of said sustenance is dubious at best, but when the alternative is starvation, one cannot be picky. It’s hard to say for sure what can be found in each location but we can speculate. There’s fish, sea monster meat, whale meat (based on the corpse in one of the rooms) and seaweed in Cove; most likely wild game carcasses and gnashers in Weald (fun fact! rabies virus is extremely susceptible to heat, just 50 degrees Celsius is enough to destroy it, so technically, cooked gnasher meat should be safely edible for heroes); stolen food from surrounding farms and swine carcasses themselves (for completely desensitised heroes) in Warrens - based on the quest for stealing their food, humans and swine require the same or extremely similar sustenance, after all. Also, there are molluscs and barnacles in Cove, rats and mice in Ruins, Weald and Warrens, nuts, berries, acorns and wild greens in the Weald and lichen most likely everywhere, all of which can be used to stretch the rations for longer.

Second of all, Hamlet is sea-side which has a huge benefit we might not appreciate enough nowadays, that being - an abundance of relatively cheap (Hamlet seems to be in middle latitudes (despite there being surface corals, I hate it here, I hate it here so much), so salt extraction cannot be achieved by solar power alone and requires some fuel source; fortunately, Weald is in the convenient distance), available sea salt for any needs. Namely, for food preservation. Yes, one can argue that having fishfolk in the Cove increases the cost, but I'd argue anything in Hamlet is far from being monster-proof, so I assume that the possibility of being butchered by some eldritch horrors during work hours is simply included in the baseline cost.

Regardless, having access to the sea/ocean and a huge forest, as well as farms (we know they canonically exist because of the Bumper Crop event and well, Farmstead) makes salted meat and fish quite readily available for heroes during their expeditions. Moreover, salted meat, fish and lard can be used in cooking during camping and eliminates the need of salting the pottage it is added to, serving a double purpose.

Now, on the topic of something more affordable - such as bread. Bread in itself isn't as storage-efficient as it may look at a first glance - even if we're talking about denser, heavier "peasant" (that is, rye, oats or barley instead of more expensive wheat) wholewheat bread. However, considering there's a town which can be tasked with it, ordering the baking of hardtack and flatbreads specifically for the purpose of providing for the expeditions looks like a reasonable choice. They are cheaper (requiring no yeast, beer barm or beer), and need only water, flour and salt, all of which Hamlet has access to. And, well, this is one of the most sufficient, calorie-dense and cheap options - ideal for our heartless, calculating Heiress. Far more affordable than meat, for example. Furthermore, it can be used to thicken and enrich some sort of stew or pottage, and we can see some sort of (presumably?) stew, pottage or soup being cooked during the camping in the pot that heroes canonically carry with them. Providing hardtack instead of grains can even be considered being "merciful" or "caring" since cooking them in some sort of gruel is far easier, and the resulting dish is far more nourishing than having to deal with plain grains on the expeditions (by either making porridge/gruel out of them or having to make some sort of flatbread by themselves).

Also, an abundance of salt means we probably have pickled/brined vegetables as a part of the rations. Pickles are sturdy, easy to transport, don’t require refrigeration and again, have the added bonus of salting otherwise unsalted stew. What types of vegetables those might be is tricky to suggest, but it is known that onions, carrots, peas, beans, rutabaga and cabbage were used a lot during medieval times. Parsnips were used up until the 16th century, from what I can find, and considering other anachronisms, they are a safe bet to add. Dried beans and peas are easy to transport and can be used as a base for stews and pottages, especially combined with other ingredients. The inclusion of fresh vegetables is more up to debate since they require more prep work. But onions, carrots and other roots are quite easy to transport and deal with, even during the expedition, and should last the canonical week well enough while adding quite a lot of nutrition to the supposed pottage. Especially if we consider that cabbage, peas and carrots were the cheapest available options for nourishment - again, ideal for our Heiress, who is only interested in keeping her hired muscles fed, not fed well.

Then there are eggs. They have an added bonus of not requiring to kill the hen, and therefore are relatively cheap. Cheaper than chicken meat, that’s for sure (and yes, I am aware, that cockerels were mostly raised for meat, killing a hen was more flaunting wealth than anything else in medieval times). Raw eggs are rather fragile, however, fresh eggs can last a week or two without refrigeration making them a nice addition to the meal, if it was possible to carry them - because honestly, adding just a couple of eggs to the gruel adds a lot to its nutritional value. On the contrary, hard-boiled eggs only last a couple of hours before starting to spoil but are far easier to transport, possibly playing the role of some sort of "on the road" snack, for a lack of a better term. However, they are far better used as an ingredient for our next option.

And the option is pastry! There is evidence of pies being abundant in the medieval period and them being used as meals during the working day. Pies had a wide variety of fillings, from extremely expensive beef or veal and venison to much more affordable pork, to fish, to fruit. Pies are not considered long-lasting provisions, but they could’ve been used as a “food for the first day” sort of rations, while longer-lasting products or raw products that required cooking were kept for the last days of the expedition. Again, there were types of very bland pastry, basically water with flour and a bit of salt, which was merely a holder for the filling, and I think it would fit the type of food the Heiress could provide for her mercenaries. More costly fillings (such as meat or cheese) can be diluted with vegetables while providing more volume, thus lowering the cost even further. I’m not entirely sure what can be the thing that heroes fry during their camping. It can be some sort of root vegetable, chopped and cooked. Or can be some sort of pastry or dumplings that have probably gone stale during the expedition and are re-heated in molten lard to make them edible again. Honourable mention goes to halusky, a variety of dumplings cooked in the Central and Eastern European cuisines. These are small lumps cut from a thick flour and egg batter and dropped into boiling water. The lack of filling makes them – say it with me – cheaper and thus, more valuable as food to give to the mercenaries, however (and I can say it from experience) they are extremely filling, especially if combined with lard.

Also, one cannot forget about cheese as a product with high nutritional value, good shelf life and the added benefit of easy transportation. Cheese as a type of food was commonplace in medieval times, as were whey cheeses (cheeses made from by-products of the production of harder cheeses) due to having no other ways to increase dairy shelf life. Again, because there’s no need to kill the cow to get the cheese, the product was way cheaper than meat. It is dense, has a good nutrition-to-volume ratio, and can be used in stews or eaten by itself, making it very versatile.

Another way of sustenance that was mentioned before is lard and butter. Although butter production in large quantities is way more cattle-heavy, and thus less probable in Hamlet which is canonically situated in dense woods on the seaside. On the other hand, lard is way more available, especially if we consider that pork was the staple meat of medieval times, much like poultry is now. Lard can be salted and/or smoked, and preserves extremely well after it, while serving as a meal when combined with bread. Also, hot lard can be used for meat preservation and cooking, but since it’s liquid, I doubt any of it was used during expeditions. Lard itself, however, in its solid form, is far more viable, as a very calory-dense product, an oil source for frying (since we see some sort of a frying pan during camping) and as a reliable, relatively cheap ingredient.

Another way of adding sustenance was using mushrooms. There’s a history of mushroom consumption, and we even have some medieval recipes requiring mushrooms. Wild mushrooms can add nutrition to pottage or be fried with onions and leaks on lard as a separate dish. They also can be dried to last for a while. The problem is the bigger bipedal mushrooms of the Weald that wouldn’t mind reversing the roles and eating the mushroom hunters and the fact that they possess danger in themselves. While it would be bad enough to have food poisoning, having food poisoning in the middle of an expedition surrounded by eldritch horrors sounds like a very high-risk play. I have no doubt that mushrooms were given to Seekers (level 0 heroes) instead of meat when they were in-season as relatively cheap sustenance, but adding avoidable risk factors for high-level expeditions sounds like a bad investment. After all, high-level heroes are money sinks with their skills, gear and weapons. Therefore, they most likely got other foodstuffs instead of mushrooms.

One more good food that could’ve been used and is relatively cheap is dried fruits. Nothing fancy, though, something simple and readily available in middle latitudes such as dried apples, pears or plums. There’s a source called “Naturalis historia” which, while describing real-world Italy (which is undoubtedly far more southern than Hamlet’s position, not gonna lie), mentions twelve kinds of plums, thirty kinds of apple, forty-one kinds of pear, sorb, cherries and multiple nuts including chestnuts which would’ve probably been available in one capacity or another. Dried berries could also be added as long-lasting, easy-to-transport addition to rations. Namely, dried berries, including rosehip berries, were often used to simply eat or brew drinks.

If the topic of sweeter foodstuffs is touched, one cannot forget about honey. Sugar wasn’t readily available due to sugarcane not being grown in Europe until the mid-15th century and therefore was stupidly expensive. Moreover, sugar was considered valuable mostly for its “medical properties”. Honey, while also isn’t particularly cheap, was far more available for the population. It can last for years without the need for preservation or refrigeration, making it an enticing option for more valuable mercenaries.

On the topic of pottages, stews, drinks and basic sustenance, we cannot forget one crucial component without which no long-term expedition can be carried out – fresh water. In cooking, for drinking, water is required in expeditions, especially when there’s basically zero chance of finding it, like in the Cove or the Ruins. Therefore, the heroes would also have to carry waterskins with water. Said water would most likely be diluted with either wine or vinegar to prevent it from going bad. It is unclear whether Hamlet uses wells or the bridges we see are over actual rivers, but medieval settlements were seldom created without direct access to some source of fresh water.

Finally, there’s the question of flavouring. And while true, spices were extremely costly in the medieval period, costing a ludicrous amount of money, there were quite a few options to spice things up that could’ve been used – especially for preparing the food for longer-lasting, higher-value mercenaries (levels 4 and up let’s say) which Heiress would be interested to keep around at least as a money investment she had committed to. Such spice options include garlic, leeks, onion, rosemary, mint, thyme, horseradish, basil, oregano, sage, parsley, dill, lovage, marjoram and cilantro to name a few. Maybe ginger and some types of pepper (long pepper I believe) that were native to the east.

Thus, the average rations that could’ve been provided could include:

hardtack or flatbreads;

some sort of treated meat (most likely salted due to availability of salt, but cured and smoked, or processed into sausages are also an option);

lard;

cheap dried fruits (like apple, pear or plum);

cheese or whey cheese;

root vegetables (maybe pickled);

dried peas or beans;

drinking water in a waterskin;

additives (salt, flavouring, honey) if provided and/or available.

Again, we know that the meat is provided based on Reynauld’s paranoid barks (“Look, it's all pink. Cook it properly”), and we know that the bread is provided from Junia’s paranoid barks (“The Verses say nothing about fuzzy bread... hmmm...”). “Apples and cheese” and “Stale bread” are foods available in DD2 (as much as I hate to mix those two together, especially because of the potato mentioned there...) and the picture for Hunger shows us some bread, waterskin and sausages, so we know they were canonically offered to heroes.

Now, bonus round!

Please note that mostly I have headcanons for characters used in the fic the most (since the abovementioned work was done mostly for writing RRR), and some will be far less thought-through than others.

Abomination/Bigby – he always gives me pause, so again, thank you, @engelsschwert for discussing him with me and offering help. Probably a very polite eater and tries to mimic someone whom he sees as “refined”, such as Alhazred, because he sees himself as eating “like an animal” otherwise. Rather territorial about his food and has food anxiety after being held captive by the cult. Probably loves stews and hearty, hot pottages because they feel “homey”. Doesn’t like fish because fish bones tend to stick in the teeth and make transformations even more unpleasant than they already are.

Antiquarian/Josephine – I can easily picture her loving sweet pastries of more expensive variety and especially those which included almond milk or almond puree. With saffron, if we want to make it extra rich.

Arbalest/Missandei – she is a girl of simple needs, those needs being a mug of good booze and a fine piece of roast fresh from the fire, still dripping fat. Her guilty pleasure is venison and bear meat. Probably used to be a poacher to satisfy them.

Bounty Hunter/Tardif – he loves tooth-rottingly sweet Turkish coffee (or the closest equivalent DD world has to offer). The problem is, despite the fact that Hamlet is a settlement with an operating harbour, I doubt he can enjoy that quite often. The price is simply too high for a mercenary. The idea of dairy makes him sick unless it’s used in baking. One of the few people in Hamlet who knows what carob is and what it tastes like. Prefers any fruits in dry form. Preferably in a pie. Uses kneading dough as an outlet for anger issues – he needs the process, not the result, but just throwing it away is wasteful, so he ended up taking baking as a hobby. Rey is wisely silent about cooking being “unmanly” when Tardif is the one doing it.

Crusader/Reynauld – he’s the only man in Hamlet who knows how to dance around Lent rules without technically breaking them, from arguing that barley geese are grains to guiding pigs into rivers to make them mythical waterhogs or asserting that beavers are fish, Rey knows what he’s doing and isn’t afraid to abuse that knowledge to the fullest when the need arises. Can cook for sustenance but would rather not, since it’s “women’s work”. Has a huge sweet tooth and love for snacks and is in even bigger denial about it because it’s “unmanly”. He spends time blessing every meal even when in a hurry, even for his teammates, and even when they would rather him not do it (eventually most heroes just accepted it as inevitability). Has access to Abbey’s alcohol stocks but doesn’t see much point in inebriation. I have to thank @engelsschwert for his fav food, that being “the poor knights”. Preferably with cream and marmalade with just a pinch of vanilla and cinnamon but he’d rather die of shame than ask for those.

Flagellant/Damian – tried almond milk because of Tardif. Flagellation has not been the same ever since. Actively denies loving it while Tardif nods in agreement and makes another batch of almond cookies. Which mysteriously disappear each and every time. Because of Rey and him, Tardif takes part of his mercenary wages in almond flour. Not that anyone but the Heiress would know. And live.

Grave Robber/Audrey – she would kill for spices. Literally. Ma girl is starved on spices she had as a noble lady. Cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, peppers, saffron, vanilla – all of those make her mouth water and rational decision-making take a backseat. Probably receives part of her wages in spices. Is extremely picky about her food if she has an option to be. Became friends with Rey because he always knows how to get adequate food during Lent. She loves custard tarts with spices and sugar.

Hellion/Boudica – canonically is fine about eating raw meat and cannibalism but is rather peer-pressured by the Spirits and tribe elders to follow the tradition than sees it as desirable on her own. Has a soft spot for animal and bird-shaped pastry. She sees complicated dishes as a show of weakness but is drawn to them out of curiosity and because they, well, taste good. Her favourite dish is a wild boar roast with cranberries and wild garlic and a slice of black blood bread.

Highwayman/Dismas – is utterly feral about his food and keeping it safe. Whenever he shares food, it’s a big gesture for him. If he actively caters for another person’s food preferences, it’s adoration. Food is basically his love language. Has a taste for meat, and yes, knows well how to cook rats – along with stray dogs, cats and whatnot. Can find food in the most improbable places. Desensitized to the point of being fine with eating cooked swine and fishfolk if it means survival. Loves jerky and needs to have some sort of emergency ration hidden on him to feel sane. Tried coffee once a long time ago and regrets not knowing what it was to look for more of it. His favourite dish is baked pork foreshank which was pre-boiled in dark beer with spices. Not that he can afford this dish often. Or at all.

Houndmaster/Willam – he loves some hearty pork pie, especially of gala variety. Preferably with a pint of nice ale. I wanted to give him some nice shepherd’s pie as his fav dish but it has potatoes which are blasphemy. Dunno why, he gives me strong Irish vibes. I can easily see him enjoying some crubeens and sharing them with Fergus. He’s a bad drinker and cannot hold liquor well but wants to keep up with others (namely Dismas), and usually, it ends badly for him. Has a habit of giving Fergus a bite of his own food and then finishing it, which some find endearing while others view as disgusting.

Jester/Sarmenti – has chronic lead poisoning from sugar of lead he was fed in the Court. Because of that he is irritable and has headaches and abdominal pains. He loves garlic and eats it demonstratively while showing off his Crimson Curse mutations to mess with people. His favourite dish is baked hedgehog with cameline sauce. He hates fruit pies because those were the ones which contained sugar of lead and he has had bad associations ever since. Overindulges in wine and has quite a taste for it thanks to Baldwin.

Leper/Baldwin – not gonna lie, ancient Israelite cuisine isn’t my strong suit. Probably milk- or broth-stewed meat with spices, from what I managed to find…? Veal meat was considered opulent, as was the meat of wild game hunted during the royal hunts. His eating habits most likely changed a lot after his illness, and now he simply prefers softer and lighter foods, which are easier to digest and usually reserved for the sick. Based on being an absolute unit of a man, eats quite a lot. Probably has a strong longing for olives. Has a softer temper and is willing to share but when stress mounts on him, snaps at people because of their table manners and their constant tries to cheat him out of his portion of rations since “he won’t be alive for long anyway”.

Man-at-Arms/Barristan – used to love rather opulent dishes back in his days of glory hounding, something like cherry chicken with rose water. Might enjoy stews and soups more now simply because they remind him of how he was humbled during his campaigns.

Musketeer/Margaret – canonically has a masochistic bark about loving Wraith peppers (a type of chilli peppers native to South America) and makes me cry in tin cans. No further comment.

Occultist/Alhazred – canonically likes or at least drinks coffee based on his masochistic bark. May have shown it to Dismas as a re-discovery. Has an affinity for consuming inadequate quantities of dried fruit, especially southern ones and tiny crumbly biscuits. Dislikes greasy foods because they leave stains on scrolls and books easily and he has a bad habit of absentmindedly eating whatever is in the vicinity while reading, and because of his concentration on the text, he doesn’t really register the taste or what exactly he’s eating. Once, someone placed a wax piece where his biscuits usually are as a joke. Alhazred didn’t notice and doesn’t know to this day why he had that weird constipation one time.

Plague Doctor/Paracelsus – she eats butter. No. You don’t get it. She just eats it as is. Plain butter. In chunks. Preferably from cold storage. Splintered in tiny frozen bits. Sometimes with a sprinkle of flaky unrefined sea salt. It’s her favourite. Says it saves time for more important things. Junia used to cook meals for them both, and Para doesn’t have the heart to throw away the jars and pots she used to bring food in. Now dragging Para to eat so she won’t die from her horrendous diet is mostly Audrey’s and Bigby’s job.

Shieldbreaker/Amani – again, ancient Turkish cuisine isn’t my forte but I can speculate. Because she is a woman in an ancient ottoman world, and an “object”, she probably didn’t get much meat to eat previously. And she might love her dolma, but the allure of breaking a taboo and eating pork is incredibly alluring, so she gets cheap thrills from that. Has a sweet tooth, even though you wouldn’t think that based on her physique and misses more intricate desserts dearly. Is disgusted by what people in Hamlet consider to be “tea” and would rather drink spoiled water. Is forced to eat in a specific manner as it is uncomfortable for her to hold the bowl and eat as most heroes do during camping due to lacking one hand.

Vestal/Junia – loves cheese, especially soft cheese and cream cheese. Especially loves to incorporate them into baking. Making cheesecakes is her passion, she ponders a lot about recipes and she silently respects Tardif for it and is probably the only person who can cook with him even if she is intimidated by him at any other time. Characters in her steamy novels often indulge in cheesecakes too. Is generally saddled with making church bread and cooking during camping much to her chagrin. Knows how to turn a stirring spoon into a weapon. Has a knack of taking grumpy and/or antisocial heroes and making them finally eat.

PHEW! This was a lot. Hope it answers all your questions :}

What’s my final score? ^^

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eievuiisms · 11 months

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more doodles of kaz n zap < 3 plus some info abt them:

as mentioned before, they're twins. kaz is technically older than zap but not by much. doesn't really stop her from using this technicality over him to get her way tho lol

pictured in the first pic & in my prev post of them, they're prolly likeee 13-14ish there

they're smaller than both of their parents in some way or another. given zap's build takes more after kaput's, he's naturally shorter than zosky but he's definitely not as bulky as kaput is. kaz is taller than zap but she's got stubbier limbs so she's shorter than zosky

kaz is, without a doubt, kaput's daughter. she was a lil gremlin of a baby & no doubt liked to torment her dads + brother (& bite them. oh how she liked to bite em). it's p clear though that she's not quite as reckless as kaput is; there is definitely some meticulous and calculated behaviours tht come w/ her actions. which is fantastic for her. bad for everyone else < 3

zap is the opposite. as a lil kid, he was a more on the timid & quiet side, though that definitely didn't mean he caused his own mischief. it's just that while kaz was clearly a wild child, he was prolly more sneaky about it. anyway, as a young teen, zap likes to think of himself as intellectual & tries to lean more towards zosky's approach to things. however, he's a lil more on the sensitive + emotional side & is definitely prone to losing his cool easy so. yeah KJGHGKJ

re: zap losing his cool, that is, more often than not, how fights wind up starting between the twins lol. kaz likes to poke & tease, zap hates it & on more than one occasion it's led to them fighting like cats n dogs (at which point kaput & zosky are practically re-enacting the incredibles "i need you to intervene!" "you want me to intervene? ok!" scene KJGHFG)

#kira's art #kaput and zosky #long post //#jic; i wound up writing more than i intended whoops lol #im quickly becoming attached to these lil hellions ok < 3 #also yes kaput is greying in the last pic it's not just weird lighting #he got crow's feet too < 3

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partiallypearl · 1 year

Photo

NO. I’M BISEXUAL, YOU'RE CONFUSED

#simone davis #chicken girls #chickengirlsedit #simonedavisedit #corinne joy #gifs #gif #*mine #fave little bisexual hellion #she's insane and i miss her #heather tag #userzackmartin #apologies for the spam heather and zack #i'm in an editing mood these last few days

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teatitty · 6 months

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Fascinating that of everyone out cold here, the person Monet holds so gently and tries to get up first is Jubilee, the same girl she claims to hate the most. Gay as fuck if you ask me

#tea reads #they're in a mental hellscape that has them living out the hellions' last moments #monet woke up from it bc of her telepathic abilities so that's why she's freaking out

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merrilark · 2 years

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I!!! Am so happy that it seems me and my kitten have begun to understand how to communicate with each other. It feels so good to finally reach these milestones; I was so nervous that I was doing something wrong and that we’d just keep frustrating each other forever lol but!! It’s getting better.

Owning a cat is such a good lesson in consent, patience, and respect.

#he's still a little hellion sometimes but he's getting better about understanding how to ask for things without hurting me lol #and likewise i think i'm getting better at understanding what he wants pretty consistently...?#he tells me when he's done being held or when he wants to go in a particular room and is very patient about it.#and i tell him in much calmer ways when he's playing too rough and hurting me and he listens. mostly lol. we still like to bite sometimes.#but i'm going to chalk up the last few times as the lil boy having achy teeth. he lost one recently! he's growing up ;A;#merri mumbles

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viscountessevie · 1 year

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Started A Lady Never Surrenders and with 4 books worth of build up I was looking forward to it but....

One of the suitors Celia is considering is Portuguese and God the xenophobia within these characters jumped out 🤢🤢 I swear if they keep up the comments about him I'm going to yeet this book

#God you had ONE job Sabrina #It's the last book make it good #I get it they're fucking English assholes #A Lady Never Surrenders #the hellions of halstead hall #sabrina jeffries #HR blogging

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passed-out-real · 2 years

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Aaron Paul Filmography Part 1

Beverly Hills, 90210 (1999)

CSI: Miami (2003)

The Last House on the Left (2009)

Breaking Bad (2008‑2013)

Hellion (2013)

A Long Way Down (2014)

Need for Speed (2014)

Exodus: Gods and Kings (2014)

Eye in the Sky (2015)

Triple 9 (2016)

#csi: miami #aaron paul #beverly hills 90210 #The Last House on the Left #breaking bad #Hellion #a long way down #need for speed #Exodus: Gods and Kings #Eye in the Sky #Triple 9

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guiltknight-gaming · 7 months

Video

youtube

Baldur's Gate 3 Episode 45: Last Light Inn & Hellion's Heart

#youtube #Baldur's Gate 3 #Last Light Inn #Hellion's heart #Gameplay #Walkthrough #Let's Play

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thisisnotthenerd · 10 days

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The Last Stand Exam

This file documents the questions administered to the adventuring party known as the Bad Kids during their Last Standard Exam, in their junior year at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy. This assessment was produced from a variety of class materials relevant to the curriculum of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy, as submitted to the principal Arthur Aguefort prior to the start of the school year. This list is accompanied by documentation of the creatures the party known as the Bad Kids was required to face as part of the exam.

The exam is graded out of 100 points; the scoring involves the students correctly answering the questions in the appropriate time interval as well as their heroic last stands. The students are expected to simultaneously fight off a horde of creatures and participate in the examination equally; each student in this party must answer two of the twelve questions.

Neither exam aids, nor outside interference are permitted during the examination period--this excludes clerical divine intervention, as appropriately performed by a member of the party in question. By standard, the proctor must be protected--death of the proctor results in a 30 point score reduction regardless of circumstance.

By Solisian School District Standards, this party reports excellent grades and a high level of competency with regard to independent adventuring.* They were allotted a grace period prior to exam initiation for preparatory spellcasting and review of the exam parameters. Based on prior academic achievement**, the students were allowed two chances to defer a question or utilize previous materials in their response. Questions where these materials were used will be marked with a **.

Exam Proctor: Gavin Pundle

Assisting Cleric: Buddy Dawn

Party Members:

Adaine Abernant | Wizard

Kristen Applebees | Cleric

Figueroth Faeth | Bard / Paladin / Warlock / "Barbarian"

Riz Gukgak | Rogue

Fabian Aramais Seacaster | Fighter / Bard

Gorgug Thistlespring | Barbarian / Artificer

---------------- AAA ----------------

Exam Questions

These will be listed with the appropriate subject as well as the allotted time, and prospective solutions. This is ordered with respect to how the students answered the questions, with the primary respondent indicated.

Investigation: (2 min)

Question: BONY GIRTH

Solution: NIGHT YORB

Primary Respondent: Riz Gukgak

Athletics: (1 min)

Question: What rival Bloodrush team do our beloved Owlbears most often compete against?

A) Buccaneers

B) Hellions

C) Grapplers

D) Scoundrels

Solution: B) Hudol Hellions

Primary Respondent: Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Religion: (1 min)

Question: Which rad Dwarven deity holds dominion over the art of Shredding?

A) Orrie

B) Ollie

C) Ormry

D) Oggie

Solution: B) Ollie

Primary Respondent: Kristen Applebees

Performance: (3 min)

Question: Please compose a limerick, sonnet, or haiku expressing your feelings and emotions relating to the exam you are currently taking.

Solution:

There was an exam that was hard

But luckily, I am a bard

The demons are slayed

'Cause of how we played

They're hoisted by their own petard

Primary Respondent: Figueroth Faeth

Elven: (1 min)

Question: Please translate the following phrase into Common:

"Pedo Mellon a Minno"

Extra Credit: The word "Mellon" is the root word for which extremely weak form of magic?

Solution: "Speak friends and enter"

Extra Credit Solution: Friendship

Primary Respondent: Adaine Abernant

History: (2 min)

Question: 225 immaculate conceptions occurred on the same day in Solace in reaction to the first public performance of which instrument?

A) The octocord

B) The electric lute

C) The astral piano

D) The hurdy-gurdy

Extra Credit: Nine months later, the newborns were discovered to have been wearing vests in utero. What material were the vests made out of?

Solution: B) The electric lute

Extra Credit Solution: Denim

Primary Respondent: Riz Gukgak

Common: (5 min)

Question: Please write a 300 word essay arguing for a proposed improvement at the aguefort Adventuring Academy in the space provided below.

Solution: We believe a greater amount of our grade should come from the actual good we do in the world. Given the number of times our adventuring party have been put in a situation where the actual fate of our very existence has hung in the balance, it seems only fitting that the result of our efforts impact our academic study. Considering the ultimate goal is to become adventurers, it makes the most sense that actual application of our skills would be most important. If actual adventuring doesn't show our skills, what will? No matter how many class I take, it won't make me a better bard or fighter. I, Fabian Seacaster, son of the great Bill Seacaster, privateer, not pirate... (108)**

Primary Respondent: Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Driver's Ed: (1 min)

Question: What is the proper way to reverse a vehicle's orientation 180 degrees while driving at top speed?

A) Signal the turn correctly

B) Slowly decrease acceleration

C) Engage the emergency brake

D) Rebuild the car facing the other way while driving

Solution: C) Engage the emergency brake

Primary Respondent: Figueroth Faeth

Medicine: (1 min)

Question: What is the most certain way for a wounded adventurer to make a full recovery from even the most grievous injuries?

A) Be healed by a powerful cleric

B) Drink an artifact-level healing potion

C) Receive a greater restoration from a celestial

D) Lie down for eight hours

Solution: D) Lie down for eight hours

Primary Respondent: Kristen Applebees

Arcana: (1 min)

Question: What is the most powerful form of magic?

Extra Credit: What is the easiest object in which to magically trap an opponent?

Solution: Chronomancy

Extra Credit Solution: A Gem

Primary Respondent: Adaine Abernant

Mathematics: (2 min)

Question: Two trains are driving toward one another on the same track. The first train leaves Elmville at 5:05 AM traveling at 60 miles per hour. The second train leaves Bastion City, 135 miles away, at 5:30 AM traveling at 70 miles per hour. What is the exact time that the collision will occur?

Solution: 6:20:46 AM**

Primary Respondent: Gorgug Thistlespring

Biology: (45 sec)

Question: Of the following creatures, which cannot turn its prey into stone?

A) Basilisk

B) Cockatrice

C) Gorgon

D) Manticore

Solution: D) Manticore

Primary Respondent: Gorgug Thistlespring

Written Portion of Exam: Passed (100% + 2 points extra credit)

---------------- AAA ----------------

Last Stand Monsters

This table documents the monsters faced by the party within the duration of the Last Standard Examination. Note the indicated modifiers for the quantity of enemy combatants and the exam questions.

Format: Monster - Killing Blow

Otyugh - Fireball from Figueroth Faeth

Ochre Jellies - Fireball from Figueroth Faeth, Word of Radiance from Kristen Applebees

Gorgon - Sneak attack with arquebus from Riz Gukgak

Hydra - Attack with Fandrangor from Fabian Aramais Seacaster + Fire Breath from Hangman

Skeletons - Turn Undead from Kristen Applebees

Mimic - Green Flame Blade from Figueroth Faeth

Manticore - Banishment from Kristen Applebees

Shrimp Dragon - Hellish Rebuke from Figueroth Faeth

Roper - Sneak attack with arquebus from Riz Gukgak

Stirges - Spirit Guardians from Figueroth Faeth

Umber Hulk - Sneak attack with arquebus from Riz Gukgak

Wyvern - Spirit Guardians & Booming Blade from Figueroth Faeth

Crab Man - Attack with Fandrangor from Fabian Aramais Seacaster + Bite Attack from Hangman

Rust Monsters - Spirit Guardians from Figueroth Faeth, Erupting Earth from Adaine Abernant, Fire Breath from Hangman

Pentacorn - Green Flame Blade + Divine Smite from Figueroth Faeth

Purple Worm - Soloed by Gorgug Thistlespring

---------------- AAA ----------------

Proctor Notes:

Party bard Figueroth Faeth used Disguise Self to assume form of proctor

Proctor attacked by Gorgon, not killed

Significant critical hits throughout combat from Gorgug Thistlespring.

Attendant Cleric Buddy Dawn was killed during the exam by unknown assailants; clarification on this event obtained post-exam and reported to the superintendent.

This party is on record as the first party to complete the Last Standard exam without perishing, thereby understanding Arthur Aguefort's intent for the assessment.

---------------- AAA ----------------

*Reference files for evaluating adventuring party competency: AAA-BKQ-01-KVX, AAA-BKQ-02-CNK, AAA-BKQ-03-CNY

**This was awarded to Gorgug Thistlespring, for exemplary work as a triple-year artificer student, in addition to the junior year barbarian curriculum

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 meta #thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats #musings on the solisian school district #the perils of xp leveling #the last stand #the bad kids

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 8 months

Text

just a little something for the darling @yournowheregirl to wake up to! it sounds kinda dumb and insignificant, but i always appreciate your tags in the fun tag games that come across your dash and for always being one of the first that ask something from those ‘ask me’ posts i reblog! it makes me feel appreciated and i am super grateful every time 🥰🫶🥹

There was meant to be two beds.

Steve specifically got a double king room for the goblins, and another room with two queens for him and Eddie.

So of course as soon as they got into Milwaukee the night before the D&D themed nerd fest, the (actually very nice) woman at the front desk says: “We had to swap around the rooms, but the two will still sleep all you boys, don’t worry!”

Whatever. That’s fine, right? They’ll all have a spot to sleep the next two nights they’re here for the kids’ (and Eddie’s) dragon game convention.

He gets back to their rented minivan and passes the key cards to Eddie in the passenger seat.

The van was just the first point of contention between him and the kids’ beloved Dragon Meister, followed closely by…everything else.

The first thing Eddie said when Steve showed up in the rented van was “King Steve is coming along on our journey?”, to which Steve could only respond with “This ‘super cool’ guy you assholes have been going on about this whole time is Eddie “The Freak” Munson? Really?”

Following closely behind are: the tapes and tapes of loud garbled ‘music’ Eddie insists on playing, his absolutely tragic way of unwrapping Steve’s burgers for him when they stop for lunch, the wariness Steve has in the first place about this being the guy Dustin wouldn’t stop talking so highly about…this nerdy, obnoxious, third-time senior…great.

“204 is the Hellions’ room, 207 is us.”

Eddie bends an arm backwards into the feral beast enclosure the second two rows have become over the last six hours and Steve’s surprised he still has his hand when it returns to the front.

Steve gets the van parked in the hotel’s garage, and they head up to their rooms.

“Alright, assholes,” he says to the somehow still rambunctious masses, “This is you guys, Make sure you’re up by eight so we—“

“Yeah Steve, we got it,” Dustin scoffs, “As if we’d risk being late to this.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a “Fine, goodnight.” and shuffles the few steps across the hall to his and Eddie’s door, leaving the troops to file into theirs.

The only thought in his head is of laying down and getting the fuck to sleep. It wasn’t even that late but—

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

So that’s what brings them here. To their one barely queen sized bed.

“I guess I’m on the floor then, huh?”

“I’m not about to let you sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, the King has chivalry does he?” Eddie rolls his eyes and throws his duffle onto the armchair in the corner.

“As much as you, asshole; I just want you to have the energy to corral the gremlins tomorrow.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face. “Look, we’ll just deal with it tonight and I’ll get another room tomorrow.” he lies. As if he’s got the cash for that.

Eddie looks him over, and seems to come to whatever conclusion he needs to because he says “Fine, but you better not be a blanket hog.”

Eddie’s the worst blanket hog Steve’s ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He thought Robin was bad, but this is something else.

Eddie’s fully a burrito within an hour of laying down. After a hearty, but silent, game of tug of war over the worn duvet.

Steve falls asleep angry and cold, and wakes up on a cloud.

He’s so warm and so entangled in the comforter, he can’t help but snuggle deeper into the pillow he’s clutched onto.

The pillow hums back at him and scoots itself under his chin with a sigh.

Steve squeezes tighter onto the pillow momentarily, but his curiosity of why his pillow’s making noise gets the better of him.

He cracks his eyes open, looking down at the thing in his arms.

It shifts as well, and Eddie Munson blinks up at him with those (holy shit…beautiful, deep, dark) doe eyes of his.

“Hi.” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and shuffles himself back into Steve’s neck.

Steve chooses to blame the still sleepy bit of him for curving himself back around Eddie.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve whispers into the now-bared hairline under the other man’s bangs.

“Fucking amazing…” Eddie mumbles, snaking an arm over Steve’s waist and settling a hand in the middle of his back. “How ‘bout you, Stevie?”

“Stevie, huh?” Steve chuckles.

It’s only then that Eddie seems to come to his senses, his head shooting up before he scrambles away, falling straight onto his back between the opposite side of the bed and the wall with an “Oof!” and a “Fuck!”

“Oh shit!” Steve shuffles off the bed and helps Eddie back up, ”You alright, Eds?”

“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine..” Steve gets Eddie back on his own two feet and (reluctantly) lets him go once he’s stable.

‘Reluctantly? Why reluctantly? What the hell??’

“Sorry I was all over you, not the greatest thing to wake up to, huh?” Eddie says, huffing a sardonic laugh under his breath.

Steve hums nonchalantly, “It wasn’t all bad, I slept pretty fucking amazing too.”

Eddie hums an acknowledgment, then: “I wouldn’t—“ Eddie starts at the same time Steve says “I should—“

“You go ahead,”

Eddie’s hands come up between them, spinning the rings on his fingers nervously. “I was going to say that…I.. Iwouldn’tmindifyoustayedtonight..too.”

Steve blinks. “Good thing I was going to say that I really should save my money.”

Eddie’s smile is slightly nervous, but there’s a hopeful tinge to it that Steve can only assume means what he thinks it does (hopes it does).

“Leaves me with more to spend on the Gremlins, right?” he shrugs.

Eddie beams. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, Harrington.”

also, if you haven’t heard it recently: Alice, YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 🤩

#and there was only one bed #oh nooo what ever shall they doooo #be pleasantly surprised by the company of the other in that bed 😏#that’s what #also ps i looked it up so it’s accurate #gencon is the dnd convention and between 1985 and 2003 it was held in milwaukee #about 4 hours from indianapolis #so +2 hours for hypothetical additional time from hawkins #in my head this is a trip just before school starts in 1985 since gen con was aug 22-25 that year #dw about the logistics of the party’s parents letting them go lmao #maybe the party meet eddie at a the local game store and somehow convince steve and their parents to let them go before the year starts #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st #st ficlet #steddie ficlet #noelle writes

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Note

Can I request something with Eddie x reader in a long term relationship. They didn’t meet until their mid to late 20s. maybe they are out to dinner one time with his old highschool buddies and she hears them joke about how eddie always wanted to fuck a cheer leader. she gets the bright idea to buy a cheer leader out fit with a tiny skirt and pom poms and wears it for him one day

Oh, now this is what I'm talking about. Written with the gorgeous queen of fluffy smut, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m! receiving), unprotected p in v, Reader wears a cheerleading uniform, mention of Eddie's crush on Chrissy

WC: 1.8k

Divider credit to @saradika

It’s not the first time you’ve met any of the guys from your boyfriend’s old Hellfire gang. It is the first time that you’ve been around them as a group, though. They’re much louder in a pack—not necessarily trying to shout, just be heard over the guy who is telling a story next to them.

The guys are funny though and you’re enjoying getting a glimpse of what High School Eddie was like from those who got to experience it first hand. It wasn’t terribly long ago that they were all in high school together; you’re all only in your twenties. But Eddie seems to groan every time there’s a reminder that the youngest guys in the group can legally drink now.

“So tell me more about this hellion during his younger years,” you say with a laugh, draping an arm over his denim-clad shoulders. “Because he claims to have been a total badass, but he’s such a teddy bear.” To emphasize your point, you smack a wet kiss to his cheek.

Eddie blushes but doesn’t wipe it off; instead, he tilts your chin till you’re facing him and kisses you until the group throws wadded-up paper napkins at you both.

“This guy was definitely not a teddy bear,” Lucas says. “I asked him to postpone one Hellfire meeting so I could play in the championship basketball game, and he put me on probation!”

You look at Eddie, slack-jawed. “Eds!” you chastise him teasingly.

“It was the last campaign of the year!” Eddie rebuts. “Actions have consequences, Sinclair.”

Lucas rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink, using his free hand to flip off his friend.

Dustin cackles at the exchange. “Yeah, he was pretty much an asshole to everyone.” His voice is mischievous as he waggles his eyebrows and adds, “except Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Ooh,” you mimic Dustin’s playful tone. “And who is Chrissy Cunningham?”

“Head cheerleader, cute and blonde, super sweet to, like, everybody,” Mike pipes up.

Eddie gets flustered, not because Chrissy was brought up, but he thinks hearing about his crush on her might upset or annoy you. He sputters over his words, which just riles him up even more.

“I don’t think we need to, uh, talk about that,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

“Why? What happened?” you ask with a frown. It was no secret between you and Eddie that neither of you were popular in high school and had crushes that went unrequited. But Eddie never told you about anything particularly bad happening between him and a cheerleader.

“What?” Eddie asks before realizing what you mean. “Oh, no! Nothing happened. We spoke maybe a handful of times ever. I just didn’t think this would be something you would want to hear about…”

Eddie brow pinches in worry but you just laugh and wave a dismissive hand.

“Eddie, come on. Who wouldn’t have a crush on the sweet, pretty cheerleader? I mean, I had a thing for my school’s star basketball player back in the day. You know that.”

Lucas laughs. “You definitely would’ve hated the star basketball player at our school.”

“Kid was a total douche,” Jeff adds. “Made these obnoxious, over-the-top speeches that had everybody rolling their eyes.”

“So, like Eddie, but athletic,” Gareth chimes in, putting his hands up in surrender when Eddie shoots him a look and then breaks into a grin.

The waiter brings out a chocolate cake, loudly singing Happy Birthday to Eddie, which promptly puts a stop to their bickering and taunting. The guys lock in on the dessert, serving Eddie the first slice before turning into barbarians over the second.

You finally manage to snag a slice among the chaos, but your mind is elsewhere. If Eddie was as into cheerleaders like his friends claim, you might be able to finagle one last birthday surprise.

A week passes from the dinner-turned-impromptu-Hellfire-meeting. Eddie saunters through the door, tossing his keys on the counter.

“Babe? You home?” His hair is kept in a low bun; it’s easier to work on cars with it out of his face.

“In the bedroom!” you call back from behind a half-closed door.

Eddie kicks his boots off in the general direction of the welcome mat. “How was your day, sweetheart?” he asks as he walks down the hallway towards your room. “Mine was pretty good. I just—holy shit.” He comes to a halt in the doorway, jaw dropping open as he stares at you.

You lounge on the bed waiting for him, a green and white cheerleading uniform on. There wasn’t one with some yellow on it as well like Hawkins High’s had when you’d gone looking, but you didn’t think your boyfriend would mind.

He stands frozen and it makes you let out a small giggle before trying to regain the seductive air you’d been going for.

“Wh…What’s all this?” he manages, caught completely off-guard by your outfit of choice.

“Just your own personal cheerleader,” you say nonchalantly, crooking your finger and beckoning him over. “Wanna see my pom-poms?”

His grin nearly splits his face in two. “Yeah—wait, do you mean, like, actual ones, or…” he trails off and shakes his head. “Ah, fuck it.” He grabs you and pulls you onto his lap.

“So, do I get to see a cheer?” he asks with a smirk. “A little, ‘two-four-six-eight, who do we appreciate?’”

You kiss his neck and murmur, “kinda figured my mouth would be busy somewhere else.” Your lips down the pale expanse of bis torso and you unbuckle his belt.

Eddie groans and leans back against the headboard, eagerly watching you. He lifts his hips enough so you can slide his pants and boxers all the way off and toss them aside.

You make sure to keep your gaze locked on his as you start to stroke him, using his pre-cum to lubricate your palm. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

He inhales sharply, trying to remain focused. “Need you to suck me off.”

You get on your knees in front of him so he can see down your uniform top, and he twitches against your lips. Flattening your tongue against the base of his shaft, you lick up to the head and wrap your lips around the tip before slowly taking him into your warm, wet mouth.

“Fuuuuuck,” Eddie breathes out, throwing his head back and exposing his Adam’s apple. “Thassit, just like that.”

The tang of pre-cum is salty on your tongue, and you lap it up gratefully. Your fingers dig into the flesh of his ass as you pull him towards you, your nose grazing his pubic hair.

“So good, goddamn, honey,” he mumbles, more gibberish than logic, “take me so well. Givin’ me the best fuckin’ head of my life.”

You’re more than happy to continue this, cheeks hollowed and tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, eagerly anticipating his cum down your throat.

Eddie has other plans.

He begrudgingly steps back, his throbbing cock thwacking against his stomach. If he pulls out of a blowjob, it usually means—

“Bend over, princess.”

You do as he says, palms pressed into the mattress. He quickly flips up your skirt, exposing your bare ass.

Eddie laughs triumphantly. “Oh, fuck yes.” He taps the head of his length against it before pushing down on your back, giving him a better view of your pussy. “Mine,” he growls in your ear.

The moan that tumbles out of your lips from his words only increases tenfold when he pushes inside of you. It makes Eddie smirk in satisfaction as his hands grip your hips beneath the pleats of the skirt. His eyes slip closed as he loses himself in the feeling of you around his cock.

You whine as Eddie bottoms out, fingers grasping at the blanket below you. “God, Eddie, yes.”

Eddie’s thrusts gain momentum and he pulls your hips back against him for every one, never missing a beat. “Shit, you’re so fucking good for me. Your pussy’s so goddamn tight, fuck.”

“Mhm, uh-huh.” The drag of his cock against your walls leaves you speechless, only able to whine, no coherent thoughts in your head.

“My cheerleader feels good, huh? Aw, baby,” he coos, “so good you can’t even talk, yeah?”

Even if you had the capability to answer, you wouldn’t have time before Eddie pulls out of you for the second time today and flips you onto your back. Your legs fall open for him immediately in this new position and he wastes no time pushing back into you.

He leans over your body, slipping his hands up the top half of your uniform. “Most beautiful cheerleader I ever fuckin’ saw,” he purrs as his hands grope your chest.

Your legs wrap around his body, only pulling him deeper inside of you. “So good,” you slur, eyes half-lidded. You feel your orgasm crash over you, waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

Eddie’s hands slip out of your top and run down your arms until he laces his fingers with yours. He lifts your hands over your head, keeping a tight grip on you as his hips pick up the pace. Now that you came, he can take what he needs.

“So tight,” he mumbles, breathing heavily. You can tell that he’s close. “Gonna cum all over this pretty little uniform of yours, ‘kay?”

You can only nod, and he leans in and kisses you one last time before pulling out and painting you in his release. Sticky warmth coats the exposed strip of flesh between the top and skirt, some of it staining the uniform’s fabric. He moans out your name as he jerks the last of his spend out of his cock.

“Holy shit,” he exhales, drinking in the sight of you in your cheerleader outfit and covered in his cum. His sexy cheerleader wearing his cum. The thought has him almost up for another round already.

He leans over to the nightstand and reaches for a tissue to clean you up, but you wave him off. Your hand catches his wrist and you softly run your fingertips up to his elbow.

“Leave it,” you tell him with a smirk. “I want it to stain.” You’ll wake up in the morning to it dried on the uniform, a reminder of tonight.

“Goddamn, baby.” Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle and flops down next to you, completely exhausted. “I was not expecting this, but I’m certainly not complaining.”

“Well,” you say, a teasing lilt in your voice. You push up onto one elbow, and gaze at him knowingly. His hair is a mess, his chest is rising and falling rapidly. He looks wrecked, and it’s a beautiful sight. “You’d better drink some Gatorade, babe. Because this is only halftime.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x reader #smut

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hitomisuzuya · 8 months

Note

Scaramouche and his wife? <33 (I love this man too much 💗)

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Facesitting. Cunilligus. Body worship.

It's me, guys. I'm Scara's wife❤️

Color Scaramouche impressed. He didn't think it was possible for him to get married. Nobody did. And here you were, proving everyone, including himself wrong.

He had his ways of doting on you. He actually spoiled you rotten. As well he should, he is an obnoxious hellion of a man. He wasn't easy to deal with. But you handled him better than anyone could.

You were kind, sweet, and most of all patient. You also weren't afraid to stand up to him, and call him out on his shit, which is what he needed.

Scaramouche also had his ways of worshipping you. He is passionately agressive when he is fucking you. Even when your thighs were slotted on either side his head, his tongue licking along your cunt.

His tongue nursed at your swollen, throbbing clit. The tip teased against your dripping hole before dipping inside to swirl between your walls. One of your hands was on the headboard, the other was on top of Scaramouche's head. You rolled your hips down into his mouth, your moans sounded so sweet to him pouring unabashed from your pretty mouth.

"Are you feeling good, my darling wife?" He purred, vibrating it on your clit in a way that made you whimper, grinding needier onto his tongue. He latched his lips onto your clit, and sucked, prodding his tongue on the throbbing bud.

He smirked when you cried out, your fingernails digging into his scalp. Your thighs burned and trembled, your hand gripping in the headboard a little tighter as his tongue swept back inside of you.

"Use your words," His fingers tapped on your hips, holding your cunt firmly against his face while you rode his tongue. "Tell me how good I am making you feel."

You felt his tongue curl around your clit again, impatient fingers tapping against your hips. He could stay happily closed between your thighs all night, his cock hard and throbbing, drunk on the taste of you.

"So good," You moaned, feeling your walls clamp around his tongue. The intensity with which your orgasm was building up starting to make you breathless. "You are-ahh!-making me feel so so good," You babbled, tears burning in your eyes as his tongue swept inside of you again.

"Cum for me," Scaramouche sucked on your clit again, his tongue just as demanding as he sloppily lapped and sucked on your cunt.

His mouth felt worshipping, your orgasm suddenly breaking over you. "Scara!" You cried out, squirting on his tongue. He groaned loud in bliss, tongue fucking you through your high until your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

How sweet you sounded, clinging onto his head while you whimpered and cried for him in ecstasy.

Like the doting wife you are, you were quick to return the favor. He gave your cunt one last appreciative lick before you dismounted his face.

Scaramouche hissed in pleasure, your tongue curling around the head of his cock. It was time to service your husband and worship him now.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader

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illyrian-dreamer · 5 months

Text

Our Girl – Part 8

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader

Summary: Azriel and Cassian fight to rescue you from Beron's lair.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Violence, torture, blood

<<< Part 7 | Part 9 >>>

Cassian revelled in the warmth of the guards blood on his hands.

Never before had he considered the sensation a pleasant one - he was always focused on the next kill, defeating the enemies that followed, winning the war. But killing his way through Beron’s guards to find you? It released some sort of primal desire, as if it pleased the Gods.

He was snarling as he plowed his way through, unnatural strength driving his bare fist straight through chests, hearts ripped from their cavities.

He could hear Azriel’s growls amongst the clang of swords meeting, of armour being punctured and thuds of bodies dropping, one by one. Azriel’s urges matched his own, melding together, stronger as one entity instead of two. The males weren’t High Lords, but this was their beast form. They would slaughter their way to you, pile the bodies as high as any beast to get to their mate.

It was unfair really, for Beron to have convinced his guards they stood a chance, even without knowing of the innate itch to kill irked by the bond. After a short fight, Cassian and Azriel - now dripping with sweat and blood - cornered the last of the guards, prowling with lethal rage.

“P-please, it was B-Beron, he ordered us to-"

If the male hadn't died from the blow as his head hit stone, Cassian was sure to choke the last of his breaths with a lethal grip at his neck, holding him up against the wall as the rest of his body slagged with lifeless form.

Bursting through another door, Cassian and Azriel flew down the winding staircase at a godly speed. No longer were your panicked calls concealed under layers of ground and iron – your shrill cries suddenly so loud they pierced your mate’s minds, hands flying to their ears in hopes to shield them.

You were here, they had found you.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a long corridor of cells beheld them, the bond pulling them towards a cell they could not yet see.

Wait! Your voice rang in their ears, laced with distress that fuelled their wild hearts. Wait! If he knows you are hear, he’ll kill me. Don’t-

Beyond words, Azriel sent a wave of reassurance down the bond, as he concealed himself and Cassian in shadows, sending some sprawling on the ground, racing ahead to find you with lethal stealth.

Silently, they moved further into the dungeon, stopping briefly to observe a weeping women in her own cell, bright auburn hair cast down her back as she wept into her arms. Serafina seemed unharmed for the most part, and Cassian sent a mental image to Rhys, ensuring Hellion his mate was here and alive.

As Cassian and Azriel reached the end of the winding row of cells, they halted at the sight before them. A frightening cold seized their muscles, and hands raised to shield their eyes at the blinding silver light flickering from your cell.

There you were, bound to a slab, sword pierced at your heart.

Veins pulsed against muscles, their fists shaking with adrenaline as they stalked closer for the kill. Beron was speaking, but neither of them could hear past the roar in their ears.

Before they could charge to tear down those iron gates and free you, Beron’s hands were at the hilt of the sword, and then he was pushing, severing the bond yet again.

————

You know they were here – from the way your heart swelled and the bond ignited, a frayed rope pulling tight after being left slack for so long. But it was an instinct you could not let on with Beron so close – your only hope was that they heard you warning.

Beron had grown dangerously impatient, not knowing the bond would fight back.

“This is taking too long, Y/N,” he roared, pacing as he ran shaking hands down his face, sweat sliding down his neck. “You will give me what I want!”

“F-fuck you,” you managed to cough out, chest heaving with short breaths as you tried not to deepen your wound with the sword at your chest.

Beron snarled as he stepped towards you. “Give up Y/N. Give in.”

You didn't have a chance to bark a warning to your mates as Beron forced the rapier further into your heart.

————

Azriel and Cassian fell to the ground – that slicing, searing pain sending them slack, unable to breath as they grabbed at their chests.

Blood and spit passed through clenched teeth as it took all they had not to make any noise, to join you in the one freedom of screaming in pain. But they had to stay silent, to stay hidden. For you, they would embrace agony.

————

It was an odd clarity, to smell your mates in that moment.

They were closer now, only a few paces from your cell. You had to endure this next insertion, to give them a fighting chance. So you clenched your teeth, your cry of pain turning to a furious growl as you called for your heart to resist and fight and survive.

Beron was thrown back at a sudden wave of magic pushed from your chest, the bond forcing the weapon clean from your heart entirely. It almost killed you, that pain, and you heaved against your restraints as Beron’s back smashed into the iron gates of your cell, weapon clanking to the ground.

Beron pulled blood-stained fingers from the back of his head, eyes raising to you in murderous rage. “You bitch! How dare-"

Beron’s words were clipped, his eyes suddenly turning wide. He tried again – to speak, to breath, chocking against an invisible threat. Vision reeling as you danced with death, you had missed the shadow that had seeped past the gates, snaking through Beron’s nose and cutting off his air supply.

Scarred hands snatched through the gates then, one around Beron’s neck, the other around his abdomen, forcing his against the cell door as he choked.

Your cry of relief was a stangled, raspy thing. Cassian - twined in red, pulsing magic - ripped open the door to your cell, the warmth of his hands a sensation you would never forget.

“Cass-" you strained, tears pouring as you cried weakly.

“My girl, my girl,” he cooed as he caressed your head, panicked by the blood spilling from your chest as trembling hands moved to press at your wound.

With Cassian’s large form in front, you only saw the outskirts of a blinding flash of silver that threw him from you, crashing him into the wall with a groan.

Beron stood before you, eyes glowing with other-worldly light, laps of silver death consuming him.

In an instant winnow, Azriel was beside Beron, Truthteller swishing fiercely, aimed directly for his neck.

Another pulse of silver, and Azriel was thrown against the opposite wall.

Beron was panting, fingers twitching and silver coursed at his frame. He had given in entirely, his sanity, his very soul lost to that power. He had become death itself.

As if like called to like, the sword flew from the ground to find home in his hand.

Beron’s growl was a deep, demonic thing. “I suppose I’ll kill all three of you now.”

Azriel still lay on the ground, wings sprawled from his back, and Beron raised that awful sword, knowing exactly where to strike.

It was a honing, almost peaceful moment to know you would do anything to stop from Beron harming your mate’s wings. It was as if the Mother spoke to you directly, welcoming you to her pool of magic, letting you drink generously as she raised the cup to your lips.

You took what you needed, using her strength, your eyes alight with brilliant yellow. Your magic, untrained and undefined, blasted through the entire cell, igniting the room with a brilliant zap.

All three males yelped with pain, metal surfaces now alive as your current zapped and moved between then.

Your magic, powerful and brilliant, caused Beron to jolt still. He turned with an eery slowness - and instead stalked towards you, marking his next kill and leaving Azriel weak on the ground.

Good, this was good. The innate selflessness to ensure Azriel's safety was instinct, and you would die with content knowing you had done all in your power. In these final moments, as death prowled closer, you understood you would die for your mates, just as they would for you.

But there was more hope to be found in that cell than you realised – because your magic thrummed with life, a gift from the Mother herself. And as your surroundings continued to zap and dance with your power – Beron was ignorant to how it weakened him, raising slow, shaky arms to land the sword at your neck.

Azriel and Cassian were on Beron before he could have hoped to make the blow. There was a flurry of red and blue, fists flying and a series of growls, the world slipping further away as your vision blurred from blood loss.

You weren't sure if you had dreamt it, but you could have sworn the entire bracket of iron bars was ripped from the hinges of your cell, revealing Rhys and Feyre.

Flashes of star-speckled black, and then warm hands were pushing at your chest.

“Rhys!” Feyre called, her hand pressing harder, pushing a silent yelp from you. “Rhys, my magic isn't strong enough to stop the bleeding!”

Your head was lolling, your mind screaming at you to hold on just a little bit longer. And then there were two sets of hands, violet and grey eyes panicked as they poured healing magic into you, flooding you with warmth.

From the other side of your cell, Beron was weakening in his fight, his magic at odds with Azriel and Cassian’s. In a swift manoeuvre, Azriel grappled the male, forcing his hands behind his back. Cassian was in front of him then, shoving him to his knees, readying to snap his neck with his bare hands.

Both of them panted, bearing the pain of your magic that flooded the room, delighting in what every instinct begged for them to do.

“Wait!”

The males froze, turning to you.

“Wait, don’t kill him,” you rasped.

They stopped.

“My love?” Azriel all but growled.

“He killed Lucien,” your words were just above a whisper, and you felt Feyre’s hands drop from you. “He killed Lucien, as has kept the Lady of Autumn prisoner. They-they deserve a trial. They deserve to see him pay for all of his crimes.”

“What did you say?” Feyre’s voice was small, her arms slackened at her sides. You could offer no comfort in your state, blinking with a furious attempt to stay awake.

Azriel and Cassian exchanged a look, before nodding to you. Cassian drew his fist back, before landing a blow to Beron’s face, with only enough strength to render him unconscious.

Shackles were ripped from you, and then hands - their hands - were everywhere, their lips too. Holding you, kissing you, rocking you as you wept at their touch. You were beyond grief and sadness in that moment – cries of relief went muffled as Azriel and Cassian held you up as you clung at them and just sobbed. The bond pulsed at the proximity, and you used the little strength you had to hold them both tighter, imprinting their scents to memory. You relished in the safety of their embrace as they cried with you, kissing you, checking you for more injuries as you healed slowly, swearing they would never let you go and that they were so, so sorry.

The moments that followed were a blur.

Illyrian soldiers flooded the dungeons, dragging Beron’s body with careful handling of the sword. Feyre’s cries were a sorrow sound, Rhys’s arms around her as she wept at the loss of her friend. You hated to have bared the news of Lucien's sacrifice, and to have to inflict the same pain on Tamlin.

Oh gods, Tamlin.

“T-Tam-?” you gasped between sobs.

Rhysand’s eyes were heavy, but fond as he smiled brokenly. “He was still fighting alongside the Illyrians when we entered. But he is safe.”

Your heart swelled at the bravery of your friend, and you wouldn't let yourself think about the damn battle that had erupted above your head.

Your hands shook then, knees buckling as the weight of the events caught up with you. A scarred hand rubbed at your back.

“You’re safe, my love, rest now.”

“Serafina–"

“Is with Helion. Everyone is safe my girl. You can let go now,” Cassian added, cupping your face.

It was the sweetest of lullabies you had ever heard, and now finally at peace, you gave into the exhaustion, falling into a safe slumber in the arms of your mates.

————

You were not alone when you woke.

Acutely aware of the soft snores of Cassian and Azriel, their deep breathing a song of its own as you came to in what felt like days.

Cassian’s head was in your lap, face down as locks of chestnut hair mopped outwards, your hand held limply in his.

Azriel slept upright, slumped against the postings of your bed, scarred hand upturned where your other hand lay in his, shadows gently caressing your side.

A snort of laughter escaped you.

It was a raspy, broken sound with no voice beneath it, but the movements of your chuckle rocked the bed gently as you indulged in the comical sight of your mates that had fallen asleep in such a way.

You wondered if their necks hurt as much as you hurt all over.

Cassian's hand tightened around yours on instinct as he stirred.

A scarred hand touched your jaw, gently coaching your eyes to find Azriel beaming down at you with a soft smile, dark lashes still blinking from sleep. “You’re awake.”

Cassian squeezed your hand, his head turned to face you from where he still lay in your lap. “Hello, love.”

Your lip quivered, and then you laughed again, overcome with an intense amount of gratitude, hopefulness and glee. With a hoarse voice you were able to speak through your tear stained smile.

“My mates.”

--------

Part 9>>>

AN: Oh my gosshhhhh thank you for reading Part 8 of Our Girl!!! I so so hope you enjoyed it!! And can I tell you - to have these 3 properly reunited has genuinely warmed my heart while writing. I think I got really bogged down in the angst - which I love - but I'm warmed by building to this happy ending. There will be one more part of Our Girl – it will explore the events following the reader's rescue, and also another time-jump, maybe a certain special event?? The reader's mission work is definitely not forgotten either - it will play a vital role in how the story ends. I always want to hear your thoughts and feelings - I actually can't believe we're close to the end 6 months later! Damn I really dragged this one out... sorry friends. Comment if you want to join my general tag list, and please take care. MWA!!

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abibliophobiaa · 2 months

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Velvet

my skin in your teeth

summary: you’re meant to eliminate creatures from the upside down, but something — or someone — has got a hold on you lately…

warnings: 18+, blood drinking, biting, allusions to sex, smut, maybe a bit of obsessiveness, and hint of implied soulmates. to be honest, i don’t really know what this is. just wanted to write something. also thanks @myosotisa and @blueywrites for the additional vampire inspiration. 🤍

vampire!eddie munson x f!monster hunter!reader

Chance and Andy cackle ahead of you, their feet rustling the leaves littering the grass, guns at the ready. Normally you’re on duty with Steve, Nancy and Robin, but the powers at be today have decided to put you together with the biggest assholes of the bunch. Cocky, rude, still bullies despite everything — and yet, some of the best shots in the Upside Down Elimination Team. You suppose there’s some comfort in that. Should things go awry.

Your one goal on today’s mission? Make sure the perimeter of area four is safe. Fortunately for you, it’s been a quiet night. For the guys? They’re not having fun with it. For two trigger happy individuals, an eerily quiet night is an oddity. During your last overnight shift, you, Nancy, Robin, and Steve had managed to take down at least fifty demobats that had come through the gate, along with a fully mature group of demodogs.

The hours tick by. Nothing out of the usual to see. A flicker of movement from a solitary demobat with an injured bat here, rustle of leaves there. But nothing major to note when you return to base once the sun rises and your shift ends.

That is, nothing until three in the morning arrives and you catch the familiar whistle. The crack of a twig in the distance. The rustle of leaves as they draw nearer. A pack of demodogs rush through trees, but the familiar glint of predatory canines draws your attention.

You draw your dagger and throw. The metal slams into the trunk with a loud thud and you shout over your shoulder, “You go on ahead, I’ll take care of this!”

The guys run along, practically bouncing in their steps at the mere prospect of taking down a pack of demodogs on their own. Giddy with it. But your mind? Your mind is drawn to the darkened silhouette in the woods, the one that, given the chance, Andy and Chance would rip apart bit by bit.

And you can’t allow that, because Eddie Munson is yours.

——

It was forbidden; fraternizing with the Upside Down.

Even more so slipping away in the middle of the night to entertain a dalliance with a creature harbored and hemmed in the place where the world had ripped into quadrants.

No one understood how it happened. You’d all seen him die. Had seen what happened when a man was ripped apart by those winged hellions. And yet he’d appeared one night, trembling and starved. A hunger that you’d managed to quench, despite Steve shouting at you otherwise, by slicing your own palm and offering it to your friend.

The friend who peered out from those darkened eyes, lines of deep hunger like spiderwebs crawling from beneath his lashes. You whispered that it was okay, that you wanted this when he stared up at you with worried eyes.

Don’t want to hurt you, he said, sounding so much younger than his now twenty-one years of age. Or twenty? None of you understood this magic. He died at twenty, heart stopped at twenty — but months had trickled by, his birthday passed, and it only felt right to honor it all the same.

Shaking hands had curled around the back of your palm, his lips sliding over wet, injured skin, dripping scarlet rubies onto the forest floor below. Steve whirled around, choked out a horrified breath as Eddie drew in your blood, drew in your essence.

Loud, hungry gulps met your ears, making Steve retch. But you leaned in closer, curled your fingers around his bicep, clinging to him as you slipped away in your mind.

Into that heady, rich, velvety, lush ether.

“Eddie,” Robin warned, as your eyelids drooped, body slumping further into his frame, “Eddie, I think she’s done. Let go of her.”

He fell back, ragged breaths pulling from lungs. And he sounded so familiar, you nearly weeped at it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, sweetheart —”

Those eyes shifted, changed back into the ones you knew before all of…this. Less haunted, more him, and despite the world tilting on its axis as you fell back into Steve’s arms unconscious, it seemed worth it.

You carried on with it in secret. Your friends decided it was better if, until things got better around Hawkins, Eddie remained nothing more than a shadow in the night. They’d find a way to make things right, but in the meantime…you learned how to keep things secret. How to slip away beyond the outer lines of Hawkins — to find ways to sneak off during patrols. Often, Steve would turn a blind eye. Nancy would wave you onward. Robin would give you a little eye roll and tell you to run along.

It started with conversations in the night. Things you never talked about when you’d known one another prior. And yet — since the day he’d drank your blood, you felt a connection to him in a way you hadn’t before. You would sit side by side, laughing and reminiscing. Dreaming, on nights where the world was quiet and it felt like you were the only two people who existed.

Those meetings changed as the seasons did. His gazes lingered longer. Your hands wandered. His lips glided over yours. Your fingers threaded in his hair. He fisted the back of your thigh and dragged you into his lap, whispered he wanted you against your throat.

That first time had been quick and needy. A frantic thing, with buttons flying, his shirt nearly shredded at the hem to get it off faster. He rolled you over onto your back and pinned you there against the dirt, the ground biting into your flesh, reminding you that you were alive despite it all. And you kissed him, panting into his mouth as his hips rolled furiously against your own, your fingers clutching at blades of grass, nearly ripping them up from the root as your orgasm stole your breath.

It kept on like that for months. Secret meetings, whispered words. His teeth in your skin, your bodies entwined, heart to heart, chasing whatever this thing was between you.

He was euphoria and light in a world filled with darkness, and you were addicted, and nothing would rip him away again.

——

The sounds of the guy’s hoots and hollers of enjoyment over their hunt grows quieter as you approach Eddie. He’s leaning against a tree, the dagger embedded near his shoulder, those dark eyes of his crinkling at the corners as you draw nearer to him. Lips curl back over elongated canines, and you note the swirling lines beneath his lashes, deciding you’ll have to do something about that later when you have more time and there’s no threat of the jackass twins coming back and throwing a wrench into things.

“Sorry I tried to kill you,” you tease, falling into his chest as broad palms slide around your hips to tug you close, “needed to make it look believable.”

“It’s fine, but next time you should try harder.” He draws a sigh from deep within your chest as he leans in to claim your mouth. It’s a quick kiss, doesn’t linger long, his head pulling back to look at you in amusement. Mouth curling into a grin, hair in disarray, dark eyes gleeful in the night. “Didn’t know you could throw a dagger like that.”

“You liked that, huh? Been working on that for months now.”

Your smirk grows as he flips you around, your back hitting the trunk of the tree. He grunts out as you coast a palm along the front of his jeans, grinning ruefully at the way his erection strains against the fabric.

“You did.” A satisfied smile creeps up along your features, heart skipping as he grips the dagger hilt near your head and tugs it free from the bark. The metal glints, the sharpened edge twirling as he toys with it in his palm. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, him playing with your weapon, but the way he’s so leisurely about it — like he’s maybe done this before…knowing how good he is with his hands because you’ve been a very satisfied benefactor of their skills many a time now —

“You okay there? You forget I can hear your heart racing.”

He drags the dagger along the hollow of your throat, the standard issue button up uniform loose there, and then lower still toward the first button. He flicks his wrist and a button clatters against the ground, moves down a few centimeters and does the same to the next, the next, the next.

The knife follows. Falls into a pile of leaves, rustles them. There’s a moment — a quick, flash of time before he’s cutting off your breath in a searing kiss. Lips and teeth and hunger — a ravenous type of love, a ruinous thing that you crave. Fingers curl around your throat, apply the perfect amount of pressure that has you moaning into his mouth. He tips your chin up, up, up. His tongue glides along the skin there, silly nips spliced between, the rake of a fang over the throbbing beat of your pulse.

Heat pools in your belly. The sort of heat you know he can sense, your heightened arousal never to be hidden thanks to newer senses. He chuckles to himself as his nose nudges beneath your ear, lips toying with the lobe, breath sending chills down your spine as you shudder against him when his free hand slides down the front of your jeans, dragging a lazy circle over the wet fabric covering your slit.

“How long do we have before those idiots come back to get you?” he asks, a sultriness seeping into his tone.

“Long enough for you to feed,” you rasp out on a gasped breath, “or fuck me. Maybe both.”

“What do you want?” he asks, teeth scraping deliciously against your pulse again.

A little bit more, if you push him down a bit and ask him to take what he needs, and he’ll have sunk them into you again, submitting you to the delectable liquid honey that’ll flood your senses once he does.

The anticipation is one thing, a clanging cymbal that heats your blood. The knowledge that you can do this for him — that you enjoy it. It’s frighteningly empowering. Knowing it’s you who has kept him for so long— that it’s your blood that sings to him. Some might call it wrong; your friends had their own reservations and fears about it, understandably so.

After that first time, you got better with it. Quickly made sure to learn when to stop, how to stop (even if you often didn’t want to).

Sex had been one point of connection for the two of you. And that had been wonderful in and of itself. You craved him in ways you had never craved another. But this? Him having a part of you within him, your souls quite literally becoming one every time he drank from you — that was another level.

A sort of intensity that often made you both lose control. Whatever it was, you were irrevocably changed. This wonderful man, this creature you were meant to kill — the love that drew you into the forest like this, his hands making quick work of your jeans, tugging them down to your ankles, as his mouth licked at you furiously.

A gasp heaved from your chest. Fingers clutch in his hair as he pushes your hips back against the bark, fingers gripping tight to the dough of your thighs, keeping you spread out salaciously before him. It’s thrilling, the waves of your orgasm robbing you of your breath at the dawning realization of it, that at any moment Andy and Chance could appear.

That they might see you tangled so deeply in the web of lies you’ve become so tangled with these months, wrapped in the arms of the man who…loves you.

Because it’s forbidden, yes. By all means, if you’re found out it could be dangerous for both of you. They could kill him — would kill him.

But you would rip them all apart for the man who made a mess of you for all others.

You wince. And there’s coo. Eddie’s hands loosen from around your thighs, his body coming up to its full height before you. He lifts your hand, turns your palm up to inspect the splinter wedged into a fingertip. Blood pools from the wound, a scarlet teardrop that coasts down the back of your hand, trails toward your wrist.

Eddie’s eyes darken, and your lips curl up. You say quietly, “Go on.”

It might be wrong, on many levels, the way he brings your hand up to his mouth, tongue dragging along your wrist, the back of your palm, erasing the trickle of blood.

And it’s downright sinful the way he drags your finger into his mouth, eyes hazy and hooded, sucking lightly. Your mouth drops open, eyes fluttering rapidly at the beginnings of that familiar euphoria sparkling around the edges of your mind.

“I want to be inside you,” he groans, making no effort to let go of your offended appendage, “and you know I prefer somewhere private for…that.”

You know he means when he sinks his fangs into you, when he’s inside you, and you both lose yourself to the magic in his bite. Wants to be alone for when that primal desire kicks up within him, and he loses himself in your body intertwined like that.

“Eddie,” you whisper, dragging him down to the ground, onto the jeans laying sprawled across the floor. “Please. It’s been days.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, hissing out a breath as you make quick work of his belt buckle, the sound of a zipper ramping up your heart rate, “because your schedule has sucked this week —”

“Please,” you urge him as he helps you up and over his thighs, sliding you down his length like the thousands of times you’ve done this before.

His breath stutters against the curve of your throat as you rise and fall steadily over him, injured hand splayed over his heart.

“Please.”

There’s always a sting. It’s only a brief moment. A soft prick of pain like that of a needle. Only it’s really two, and they immediately are replaced by his tongue to soothe away the ache. A healing balm that oozes into your bloodstream. When he latches on again, it’s a bubbly, almost buzzing feeling that spreads through you. The feeling of sifting slowly through sinking sand, like dragging your fingers through water. Your mind numbs, a feeling of floating — of lightness unparalleled has you sinking further into him, the rolling of his hips beneath you tethering you to reality. Here and there, on the precipice of something earth shattering. It’s always like this with him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against where he’s bitten into your collarbone, into the skin peeking out from the collar of your shirt, “God, I love you.”

And he’s rolling you over, hands on either side of your face, eyes closed in blissfulness. The forest floor at your back, your thighs around his hips, bodies connected in a practiced dance. You marvel at his features, missing that point of additional connection, cupping his cheek instead. He’s told you you taste like the sweetest nectar, like heaven itself. Says it’s not like this with anyone else. That you’re divine, velvet, rich. You’re ethereal and his. And it takes everything in him to restrain himself, to tamper down the throbbing of his heart when he’s drinking you in, to not take too much. He could lose himself in you, in the bliss of your coupling, in the perfection of your essence.

You both come with a cry, and, as always, hate when it ends. There’s no time to hold one another, to kiss along his bare skin as he keeps you close to him. Not with the fear of Andy and Chance appearing at any time, fresh from their hunt, with murder on their minds.

Instead he leans down and cups a hand around the back of your head. Presses his forehead to yours and whispers of his love, devotion, desire for you. It’s a promise for later, sealed with the softness of his lips against yours, and he’s gone…slipping into the shadows.

No longer next to you, and yet forever marked on your heart.

——

A pair of white, well-loved Reebok’s sit near the door.

Paintings and sketches are scattered around the living room.

Further in the home, Eddie listens to the familiar thump-thump coming from down the hall. Can hear the reassuring inhale and exhale of your breath.

It’s night once more, and you’re finally off work, finally able to catch up on some sleep. Have slept most of the day since you got home, now that he thinks of it.

The bed shifts as he joins you once more, kissing along a bare spine, blankets curling low around your hips. He chuckles at the memory of you earlier, nearly kicking the door open on the hinges, ready to reprimand him for showing up unannounced while you were on patrol, only to end up ridding him of his clothes on your way to rest for the evening.

“Hi,” you whisper, eyes blinking up at him, adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom, “How long have I been out?”

“Few hours,” he tells you, running a hand along your bare shoulder. “Missed those eyes.”

“Sap.” It’s a tease. You see him every day, and even then it’s not enough.

“I made you dinner,” he says, rolling over onto his side beside you, nose brushing yours gently.

“Thank you.” You lean over to kiss him, smiling against his skin. That’ll never get old. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Another kiss. “Today was fun.”

A smirk curls your lips. “It was.”

“I should visit you at work more often.” He’s grinning, the insinuation of his words making your heart stumble happily. It’s music to his ears. “You liked that, didn’t you? Could smell it on you. Bet if I touched you now you’d be wet just from the memory of it.”

He’s not wrong. And he proves that point with the teasing drag of his middle finger along your clit, relishing the soft cry of, “Ed —” that spills from your parted lips.

“Reminded me of that first time we were together,” he purrs, rolling over you. Rolling you over onto your back. Your body settles beneath him, form soft and warm against his. “Forest floor.”

“Sexy,” you tease, breaking off into a whine as he pushes inside, rolling his hips against yours slowly. “All the dirt, twigs and leaves. Nothing screams romance like a nice forest fling.”

“We worked with what we had at the time,” he chuckles, cock dragging along your walls, drawing another moan from your throat. “But I think I like this better. Our bed. In our home.”

Because, though it’s forbidden, you never could handle the thought of being without him.

Had asked him to move in here months ago, into your home on the outskirts of town, to live a quiet life away from prying eyes.

Here, where you could protect him.

Here, where you never needed to be parted from him.

Here, where for a year now, and forever still to come, he’d have a place by your side.

“Next time, just bite me somewhere else, will you?” you ask, when you tumble back onto earth when it’s all over and you’re left satiated once more, body draped over Eddie’s. Eddie’s brows arch high on his forehead. “By the time your freaky magic saliva started to heal the bite, the guys thought it was a hickey and teased me relentlessly. And I can’t be with you from jail if they keep it up.”

“Pretty sure we’ll always be together.”

Forever, he’s promised.

Because maybe it’s his new, more animalistic side. The part of him that recognizes a soul mate. Maybe it’s the way you fit in his arms, the way your lips feel against his, or the way your blood sings to him.

But he thinks, in a way, you feel like his.

And he knows, in his heart, he’s yours.

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic

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