Haunted Wood Suck Shit and Try to Die

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Graphic gore. Rape.

Once again he is familiarizing himself with the rich iron taste of blood. Except- this time it isn't his.

He sucks greedily at Valour's wound, digging his teeth into the flesh, tearing the muscle open and letting loose more of that bitter liquid. He doesn't enjoy it exactly, it makes him feel a bit sick as it settles in his stomach, taking up space and weighing him down like a brick. The only thing keeping him going is his possessiveness, the instinct to mar this wolf so that he may leave his own scar—his own touch. No one will touch Valour again.

Valour is the only good thing that has happened to him.


"Only I can touch you," He declares into the flesh before slowly releasing pressure, lifting his fangs away careful not to tear the wound bigger. He's quick to lap at it, to press his tongue to the burning flesh so that he can stop the bleeding. And it's only when his frenzy subsides that he notices the tug of Valour at his shoulder.

It makes him shiver, his head dizzy and jaws falling open as he pants. He's confused, he feels overly hot but bitterly cold as well and he's—

Gone.

All he can feel is that weight above his body, crushing him enough to force a bow; a presenting pose that makes his cheeks burn with shame as teeth mar his scruff into a tight hold. He's fruitless in his efforts to get away as he's shoved forward with every thrust of the monster behind him and he's—

Back.

Panting and eyes shut closed as he digs his face deeper and deeper in valour's neck, the warmth grounding him as he gulping down breaths of air that are too big and too large for the tightness in his throat and lungs. Maybe was screaming before into the Nightwalker, maybe he was crying. He's confused, scared, and unsure which is up and which is down but he knows Valour is here. Valour. Valour. Valour.

His Valour.

"You're mine, okay? You belong to me (as I belong to you.),"