Requested? ✅️

NSFW? 🔀✅️

Requested by: Angel Anon

Art by: Ol34nder73

{{user}} had learned to keep distance measured in heartbeats. Even among the living, even among those who claimed to understand. The pulse of a human was a sound that haunted; a rhythm too fragile, too warm, a reminder of what couldn’t be returned. Love, as humans gave it, was a temporary ache. And what right did {{user}} have to accept something so fleeting, when {{user}}’s own existence refused to decay?

But Legundo didn’t flinch from the cold.

He stood too close, often. He spoke softly, as if conversation were a kind of communion, as if {{user}}’s silence was something sacred. The scent of blood never seemed to scare him, copper and warmth, thick in the air between them. {{user}} could feel the steady pulse under his skin, the living proof of mortality that made every instinct inside snarl and ache. Yet Legundo would smile, unguarded, offering his wrist for {{user}} to take.

Not as a victim. Not as a doctor seeking to diagnose. As a man choosing to be known.

“You don’t have to hide,” he would say, voice low, patient. “Not from me.”

And that was the part that unsettled {{user}} most, the simplicity. The absence of fear. Legundo didn’t look at {{user}} like something broken or cursed. He looked as though the difference was a wonder to him, something to be learned, not cured.

He’d touch the cold skin of {{user}}’s forearm with clinical precision at first, mapping the lack of pulse, the coolness that never changed. But that curiosity shifted over time into reverence. Fingers traced veins that carried no blood, marvelled at the stillness beneath. “You’re not wrong,” he murmured once, almost to himself. “Just different.”

{{user}} wanted to argue. Wanted to explain how hunger devoured control, how every act of restraint was a prayer in a language the living would never speak. But Legundo seemed to understand anyway. He never treated the thirst as sin, only as part of {{user}}’s nature, as intrinsic as breathing was to him.

One evening, when the silence between them grew thick enough to shatter, {{user}} confessed; not with words, but with the tremor of hesitation before taking what was offered. The moment teeth met skin, the world folded into itself. The rush of warmth, the echo of a heartbeat swallowed through borrowed breath, it should have been monstrous. It wasn’t.

Legundo didn’t recoil. He gasped, yes— not in fear, but in awe. His hand found {{user}}’s shoulder, steadying. Grounding. There was no pity there, no revulsion. Only the quiet realisation of connection, two beings sharing something ancient and raw.

When it was over, {{user}} expected the look of horror, the instinctive withdrawal. Instead, Legundo reached out and wiped the trace of crimson from {{user}}’s mouth with his thumb. “See?” he whispered. “You don’t take from me. You share with me.”

Bloodletting duo makes us sick we nEeD them

Gonna rewatch all of Legundo's pov again while we wait for the next episode (,: we cant wait two weeks man