Hi Tawney! I really enjoy your blog! I've reviewed your rules, your "About Me" section, and your lists of fandoms, and I have a request. 30 Days of Night has been a special interest of mine for years; I am hyperfixated on Marlow and Zurial. With that in mind, could you please write an imagine where a female reader is involved with/shared by both Marlow and Zurial? You can make the imagine as long or short as you want. Thank you!
Note: Hope you’re still into 30 Days of Night two years later. x_x Eventually I will empty out my inbox. Eventually. Maybe. Mentions of canon-typical violence, but Marlow and Zurial are actually nice to reader.
Imagine agreeing to being shared by Marlow and Zurial.
It didn’t immediately occur to you that Marlow and the others were vampires. Pallor aside, their undifferentiated teeth and blackout eyes brought to mind sharks. This was a seaside town. A shiver of predatory mermen stuck on the Alaskan coast, unable or unwilling to migrate to southern waters… Fishmen evolved to grow legs… It made as much sense as anything.
It wasn’t until you directly witnessed one rip out your neighbor’s larynx did you realize your mistake. Even so, you reasoned, if they’d risen from the depths, they were probably used to swallowing small prey whole. No molars meant chewing was right out. Then there were the problems of dehydration and hyponatremia. It made sense Lamniform’d “humans” slaked their thirst on blood.
They showed zero mercy to any townspeople they came across. You doubted you would be an exception. Most of your morbid curiosity was quickly quashed, but you needed to know their whereabouts. So you quietly watched them hunt. Later, you wondered if they’d been aware of their audience. At the time you’d felt somewhat safe. By pure coincidence, your resources contained, if the lore was to be believed, many traditional vampire repellents.
Too bad I’m not dealing with traditional vampires, you had thought, when two men, each with a blood-soaked chin and nocturnal stare, stood in your kitchen. They didn’t immediately acknowledge your presence. Instead, they conversed with each other. About what, you had no earthly clue. It wasn’t in English. All you could do was stay still, eye trained on your unwelcome guests through the threshold. The kitchen door was barely ajar and you stood almost catty-corn from them, afraid to even turn your head.
From prior observation you knew the older man with the widow’s peak was the leader. The younger, who definitely looked like he’d have asked a vampire to bite him prior to turning (if he hadn’t been born one), deferred to the older. Though even to your ears the chat sounded slightly heated.
More heated than their bodies, probably. Were they ectotherms or endotherms?
Your question was about to be answered, you realized, when the younger man’s gaze slid to you. You hadn’t even seen him move. With sclerae and irises black as pupils, his eyes could have been fixed on anything. His slow grin made it apparent they’d landed on his next victim.
The older one said something. All you could do was hold your ground, wondering if you looked as resigned as you felt. His tongue, a deeper red than any human’s, darted out, lapping at his crimson-coated lips.
“My name is Marlow,” his elder said, “and this is Zurial.”
“______.”
Marlow’s face was likewise cleansed. Till there was no evidence of hematophagy. Mouth pressed in a teeth-hiding smile that matched Zurial’s. They were close enough you could finally see the whites of their eyes, still dominated by pupils dilated despite the low light.
“What are you?”
Perhaps a useless question, but they didn’t treat it as such.
“Vampires.”
They were well dressed, despite the vanished blood having indicated they’d had a feeding frenzy recently. Zurial wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath his jacket, but all that did was make him look like some goth rocker. You were pretty sure he’d had a white tee. Maybe it was in the wash.
Hydrogen peroxide and cold water, you thought. No one moved. Telepathy was, thankfully, not one of their powers.
Aloud, “You can use hydrogen peroxide and cold water.”
If you were going to be preyed upon, you wanted to be leached dry. Not a drop wasted. If that was unrealistic, you at least didn’t want to leave any essence of yourself on their clothing.
“We promise it’s not your lifeblood we’re after,” Marlow confessed, clasping your hand between his icy palms. You felt heat rise to your face, before being softly siphoned into his hold. And then his embrace.
See? Marlow’s softer smile seemed to say. No gills.
Both his and Zurial’s touch had warmed considerably after you reciprocated their feelings. You were given permission to check their necks and sides for any piscine features. Claws retracted, neither returned your caresses as they patiently waited for your examination to end.
When it did, you nodded. The two men flocked to your side. You stood nude, and they quickly joined in your nakedness. When you’d agreed to throuple with them, they agreed not to “raw” you. At least in the cunt. Marlow wanted so badly for you to consume his seed. Zurial was actually putting on a condom. He’d been somewhat reluctant at first, until Marlow hissed some unknown words to him. It was clear that he wanted to fuck you above all else, even if there was a barrier he wasn’t used to.
