#(^^ about to rip into the man like a rabid animal)

[thenamessparkplug]

just so yall know (i dont want it to come completely outta nowhere) I've got a wiatt rant coming (just as soon as I can figure out how to formulate scentances lmao) and uh it's prolly gonna be a long one:3

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 6 ] || [ Chapter 8 ]

Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. oral (m!receiving). sex (protected). Unspecified age gap. John is a little selfish. Also: the boys aren't very happy. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: tried my best to keep the smut as gender neutral as possible!

Chapter 7: Getting Laid!!

Last night, you and John stumbled in the door of your flat with your lips pressed together.

You swore that was something only happened in romcoms, when the main character and her rival/best-friend/ex/a stranger met at the bar, got drunk, and somehow stumbled in the door and did it right on the kitchen table or whatever.

Nope.

Nope. It happened.

He had his arms wrapped around your torso, one snugly around your hip/lower waist, the other running up over your spine, with his hand sinking into your hair.

He tossed his foot back, knocking the door closed with a donkey kick as your hands struggled to untuck his stupid maroon button-up.

Instead of fumbling with the buttons, he ripped it off himself, a few of the buttons popping off and being sent flying around the room. He shrugged it off himself before guiding you over the living room sofa.

The flat was a mess, you had tried to tell him, because you weren’t expecting to bring him (or anyone, ever) back here. But that wasn’t a concern at that moment.

John fell on top of you on the couch, his hands already ripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way (you’d come to find it behind your flatscreen tv).

His fingers kneaded and caressed your torso, squeezing at your waist as his mouth slide away from yours, over your jaw, and down to your neck, biting down onto it and sucking at the skin like it was his to mark.

Your hands found the back of his white crewneck and you pulled it off, momentarily getting him tangled in it, before you tossed it on the floor. 

You barely had a moment to feast your eyes on the sight of his bare torso before he was slipping your boots off and then dragging your jeans off your legs… Like a rabid animal, primal and hungry. 

You caught glimpses of his figure as he raised your leg and peppered kisses from your ankle, wet tongue jotting out to lick up your thigh toward your underwear.

He’s strong but soft, the owner of large pecks and a warm belly, both covered in thick, dark, coarse hair, that disappear in a happy trail under his jeans.

You pull his face toward yours, locking your lips into a deep kiss again, your tongues finding each other as he holds himself up over you. Pulling away from the kiss, you looked at him. “Flip over…” You whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing you around the waist again and hurling you up as he shifted to sit down on the couch, thighs spread to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans.

You knelt between his legs, nimble fingers undoing his belt and immediately tugging the dark fabric away from his thick thighs. He groaned in relief as he watched you struggle with his boots for a moment before you succeeded in getting it all off him.

His hand palmed at his hardened cock, eyelids droopy as your hands ran up his legs, feeling the hair in them, and sometimes catching the little bumps and scars of past injuries, some of them discreet, some of them obvious and particularly gnarly. Some of them could rival some of his Simon’s.

You tugged down his boxers briefs, allowing his cock to spring free. It’s uncut, long and decently thick, and his hair is neatly trimmed. The head peeks out just a bit, showing how red and angry it is, the whole length throbbing, needy for your touch.

Your eyes locked onto his, spotting that it wasn’t just his cock that was needy. He looked at you like a starved man about to have a meal. Barely restrained, his jaw clenched, fists tightened shut, the muscles on his thighs taut with anticipation.

You ran your tongue over your palm before wrapping it around his cock, hearing him hiss and throw his head back as you started stroking it. Your other hand slowly, carefully, pulled back the hood of his cock before you wrapped your lips and tongue around it, gingerly sliding it further into your mouth.

You could’ve sworn John was going to have an aneurysm. “Fuckin’ hell… That’s it…” He grunted and huffed consecutively as he tensed up a bit, bucking his hips upward to meet your mouth.

“F-Fuck… That’s it…” He grumbled under his breath as he looked down at you. John had been with plenty of people, but something about the way you looked on your knees with his cock steadily slipping down your throat, got him in a way no one else did.

“Jesus… Fuckin’... Christ…” He dipped his head back as your tongue drew circles around him before you swallowed him deeper, breathing steadily through your nose so as to not choke.

“God… Been… B-Been a while since I got… Christ-” He grunted again, one hand shooting up to grip the back of your neck as he slowly rocked his cock into your mouth, beads of precum drooling over your tongue.

“C’mere.” He demanded as he pulled you back from his cock and up to your feet. He grabbed hold of his jeans from the floor, in search of his wallet and pulled out a whole sheet of condoms which was folded neatly inside, He stuck them between his lips before he stood.

Grabbing hold of you, he walked you across your flat, making use of the sitting room lights to navigate the hall into the bedroom, and dropped you onto your bed. He tossed the condoms aside and his lips crashed into yours, lips parted so that your tongues found each other.

His hands grabbed hold of your underwear and tugged it off, sending it flying across the room while he grabbed hold of the condoms and ripped off one, rough fingers search struggling to open the foil, before he finally succeeded and slipped it on.

“You good?” He checked on you, eyes locked on yours as he slotted himself between your legs, kneeling in front of you and adjusting you to fit him. One leg wrapped around his waist, the other over the bend of his elbow to keep you spread open for him.

“Yeah.” You replied, immediately feeling him rub the leaking head of his cock against your entrance, allowing the lube of the condom to lubricate you just a bit.

It had been ages since you had last gotten laid, a miserable consequence of your ex-boyfriend, Ethan, and one of the main reasons you had broken up. Sex with him, much like your relationship, was dead and unfulfilling.

You felt John push his way inside, slotting himself in the warmth and snugness of your body as you squealed, your head falling back onto the bed. He grunted some incoherent praise, or what you assume was praise, his fingers digging into the extra fat on your legs to keep him steady enough.

He leaned over you, one closed fist on either side of your head, curling you onto yourself and allowing him easier access to thrust into you. Slow, torturously slowly, his cock stretching you and forcing you to accomodate him.

“Fuckin’ hell… So fuckin’ good…” He groaned, eyes closing and mouth falling open as he threw his hips down against yours. It was slow and considerate, but the way he huffed and grunted told you it was already too much for him.

But John was a man of focus. He uncurled his fists in order to grip your bed covers and squeeze them tight as his hips bounced off yours, his weeping girth always burying itself to the hilt before he pulled back again, making sure to bottom out every time.

You whimpered and moaned, eyes screwed closed and a shiver running down your spine every time the bouncy cock plunged into you, the upward tilt of it making sure to drag dangerously slowly across the one spot in your body that caused your mind to go blank, stars prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“F-Fuck… John…” You sighed as he kept the torturously slow pace, somehow driving you crazy just as much as he would while pounding you into oblivion.

“Yeah… that’s it. Moan my name, love.” He ordered as he leaned closer.

“J-John…” You cried out softly as his hips stuttered lightly, causing him to bury himself deep twice in a row.

“I know, darling. I know.” He grumbled. “You haven’t gotten properly shagged in a while, have you?” He taunted a bit. “Haven’t either, sweet thing…” He added.

His hands grabbed your jaw on either side, his thumbs hooked onto your cheeks, the remaining fingers slipping under and around your ears, nails digging lightly into your scalp.

“I’ll make sure to make it last as long as possible, hm?” He added as he kissed at your lips, sucking your bottom lip between his lightly.

-

John was in a much better mood when he sat down for breakfast at the mess hall with Ghost, Gaz and Soap. He actually greeted them with a ‘Good morning’, his tray was piled high with food and his hair was wet from a recent shower.

The other three were looking at him with raised brows and intrigued glances, even if Ghost was trying to be discreet about them. They could read between the lines to know he had gotten lucky with you the night before, so they didn’t need to ask questions they knew the answers to.

Instead, they exchanged glances and kept eating their breakfasts… All except for Simon, who was simply drinkin a cup of breakfast tea.

“I don’t think it’s fair.” Soap ended up saying as Price was halfway through shoveling a hash brown into his mouth.

“What isn’t, Soap?” Price asked, eyes narrowed in confusion, and brows scrunched.

“We all matched ‘em on Tinder and didn’t get more than a ‘I’ll think about meetin’ up with you’.” The younger sergeant explained halfway through chewing his bite of sausage. “You meet with ‘em, get a shag… And we did all the work for it.” He added. “But when it comes to us ourselves, they don’t want us.” He complained.

“What are we gonna do?” Gaz complained. “Maybe they just like older men…” He said with a shrug. “Sucks but there’s other people out there.” He adds while drinking his orange juice.

“Are you seriously going to call dibs on the fact you saw ‘em before Price?” Ghost said in surprise.

“I’m just saying!” Soap grunted and shoveled some more scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Learn to take rejection with class, MacTavish. It’s going to happen to you more and more often as you get older.” Ghost quipped.

“Awa' an' bile yer heid!” Soap scoffed and flipped the middle finger at Ghost.

Meanwhile, the Captain was giving them all a look, while staying silent, seeming amused by their antics and a little by their jealousy. He could tell that despite the fact Gaz and Ghost had disagreed with Soap, their eyebrows were also furrowed in contemplation.

So, he simply turned off to the side and drank from his own tea with a smug smirk on his lips.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur , @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago

[mechaknight-98]

Memories (NSFW) FT Chaewon

Author’s Notes: I was not lying about the super drop. Here’s something short and breezy for the birthday girl.

Chaewon sat comfortably in “her chair” naked in your apartment. Your flight had landed 35 minutes earlier and that meant you would be back home any moment now. So she stripped herself and got in her self-proclaimed chair to wait for you. This had been your longest business trip and as per your customs, she would fuck you silly on the day of leaving and the day of return. It was cathartic and always a pleasure for both of you as you both didn’t understand restraint so you always gave all of yourselves to each other. Some would call it codependent but your relationship has stood the test of time thus far. So much so the rest of the Chaewon’s members, tease her about how “she and you are gonna get married and have a bunch of kids because you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other,” but Chaewon doesn’t care you fought for her affection/respect and won it like a man she’d happily fuck you dry until you were both 90. Speaking of you Chaewon heard your footsteps travel up the stairs having memorized your walking pattern “1,2 slow then a and a pause quick 3,4” Her pussy began to pulse and leak.

As soon as she heard the door lock Chaewon couldn’t help it. She spread her legs and began to furiously play with herself as you walked in. It took you a moment to register the familiar sound of her squelching digits digging into her sopping pussy.

Chaewon flowed like a fountain always when you came back from your work trips.

You lol locked eyes with Chaewon and she smirked watching your bulge grow under her gaze. She made a simple command as she took her fingers out of her and began to suck on them. As always she tasted like simple syrup

“Fuck me like the animals we are,” Chaewon smiled when she saw the feral glint in your eyes that matched the rabid glint in hers. She watched as you ripped off your clothes in a feat of Herculean strength. She smiled as her man approached her before plunging into her sodden sex. Chaewon moaned

“I missed you so much,” you said. Chaewonsmiled and then demanded

“Tell me,” Chaewon demanded

You pulled out halfway while making eye contact with Chaewon.

“I missed this tight pussy, and how it tries to get me to cum with every stroke,” you said as you rammed back into her. Chaewon moaned as you made another thrust and said

“I missed your sexy hips and they’re so pleasant to grab.” You said before impaling Chaewon with your rod again while grabbing her hips, eliciting another moan from Chaewon. You smiled as you gave her another rough thrust. Chaewon’s petite breasts jiggled raggedly as she tried to recover. Her body raked against yours as pleasure ran through her. Your rod pierces Chaewon again as she moans uncontrollably at the pleasure and you grunt. Her tight pussy constricted You in ways you couldn’t believe but drove you that much closer to release.

"I missed This sexy tummy and the abs I would paint with my cum" you said as your hands ran around her tummy and traced the grooves of her abs causing her to moan before she came.

"Oh fuck," Chaewon moaned as you continued thrusting into her chasing your high. She smiled and with a defiant look in her eye, she said.

"Let's make this memory special. Cum in me baby." You were uncertain until she repeated her request twice. You smiled before thrusting into her one more time before you exploded into her. She smiled as the both of you came down from your high.

"Happy Birthday Chaewon," you say with a smile.

She smiles back and kisses you.

"Let's get some dinner," she says and you happily oblige her.

[innerfare]

Smutty Captain Kid Headcanons - Part 2 

Summary: A collection of NSFW headcanons for Captain Kid

Genre: Smut

CW: oral sex, dirty talk, mean dom Kid, spanking, biting, spitting, rough sex, unsafe sex, Kid might be a bit toxic, threesomes

———

Gets a little too turned on if you flip him off during sex. The first time you did it, he was fucking you from behind and goading you like he usually does; unable to talk you flipped him the bird, and he came almost instantly. Is there a such thing as a middle finger kink? Because if so, he has it.

Super into sexy costumes. French maid, innocent bunny, cute sailor girl, the Gol D. Roger costume you customized to be comically inappropriate. Aside from costumes, leopard print lingerie is his favorite. 

Sounds like a feral animal when he goes down on you. Prefers to do it from behind because it seems to make you even more vulnerable. Has eaten you out on the deck of the Victoria Punk, you clinging to the wheel and keeping a lookout for any crew members, Kid shoving a finger up your ass. Eats ass, too. His favorite is the way you gasp and whine when he spits on you to lube you up. Definitely spanks you while he goes down on you, both ass and tits, and squeezes your thighs like he’s trying to rip the skin open. 

Most nights the two of you are together, it sounds like there’s a rabid dog loose in his cabin. The crew has come to accept this. 

Never leaves your nipples alone. Pinches them, squeezes them, flicks them, bites them. You had to set boundaries re: your nipples because they were raw all the time. 

Wants to hurt you, but also wants you to hurt him. Will grab your face in his massive hand and squeeze until you slap him, will spit in your mouth and swallow when you spit back, will bite the ever-loving crap out of your neck (like actually chomp down on you, no such thing as sweet little love bites), laughs like a mad man if you rake your nails down his chest and draw blood (bonus points for hurting his nipples), never smacks your ass less than ten times, will cum immediately if you try to bite his ear off. 

If you show even a hint of dissatisfaction after the deed is done, he’s back on top of you in an instant pounding away. 

Is the absolute worst about birth control. Complains incessantly if you make him wear condoms, usually because they’re ‘too small’ and cramp his style, claims he has a latex allergy and condoms give him a rash (literally not true). Annoyed by his whining, you try the pull out method, only to find he’s even worse about that. “But it feels so good.” “I don’t want to pull out.” “Why should I even bother? We both want me to cum inside of you, anyway.” “Stop complaining.” “I didn’t become a pirate to follow rules, y/n.” He does genuinely try to pull out, but he’s so bad at it. You have no choice but to get on some form of pill before you have a little red-haired menace running around. 

Once you do get on that pill, you never don’t have his cum inside you. He cums a cartoonish amount, too, and by the time you’re cleaned out, he’s mounting you again. 

Believes in kissing and telling. In particular, he wants you telling. He wants you getting drunk and telling the bar that his balls are the size of a bull’s. He wants you telling the crew you’re taking it easy because you got dicked down the night before and you’re sore as a motherfucker. He wants you tearing apart the infirmary for bruise cream, loudly announcing it’s because Kid can’t just make love sweetly but has to ride you like an animal every night. 

Loves fucking you out in the open. Usually it's on the deck of the Victoria Punk. Has also fucked you in an alleyway outside a tavern before.

Really loves the idea of a threesome but is far too jealous of a lover to make it work. If you like girls, he’s obsessed with the idea of you being dominated by one. Also enjoys letting other people watch, especially men (strict no touching rule); he wants to show off his prowess. 

That being said, Killer is the exception. Kid is more than happy to switch off with Killer, the two of them tag teaming you until you just can’t take anymore. Killer can even fuck you when Kid’s not there to oversee.

Is secretly a sweet little boy, and it shows in after care. Calls you all sorts of sweet nicknames when you’re in his big arms afterward, but says them quietly in your ear. Tells you that if you disappeared, he would tear the world apart looking for you, and if you died, he would set the world on fire. And he’s just crazy enough to mean it.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[illubean]

srry I keep doing super long requests so I'll try to make this one shorter.

Illumi, Chrollo, Feitan, and Leorio's reaction gn!s/o or crush who fights by shredding mfs with tooth and claw like some kind of feral animal

they see a cowardly enemy try to run, turn to him and go "hey babe, do me a solid and throw me." so they can drill down onto the mf and maul the shit out of 'em coming back just absolutely soaked in blood.

for bonus comedy maybe they say somethin like "that felt sexy. we should do that more often." or "lmao we should name that move..."

HXH With an S/o W/ Sharp Teeth/Claws

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!Reader

up to you if nen makes ur teeth/nails grow or if ur just freaky all the time

Warnings: violence

Leorio Paladaknight

this man is HORRIFIED

YOU'RE SO SCARY

forget him throwing you in battle bro he is RUNNING FOR COVER

the first time he ever saw you maul something like an animal was those damn pigs at the hunter exam

fuck a weak spot you just bit a chunk out of it and it died 😭

"YOU'RE COVERED IN PIG BLOOD!" "Oopsiesss :3"

he is so scared

do not put your mouth anywhere near him he will run away screaming

he shivers every time your hand brushes up against him

poor guy

Illumi Zoldyck

you're like a personal guard dog, forget mike

he lets you take care of whatever business he doesn't have time for

and if he's going on a mission where he has multiple targets he'd bring you just for funsies

its almost like he's walking around with a chain chop at all times

if you asked him to throw you he'd be like ??? ok then CHUCK YOU LIKE A JAVELIN

he thinks it's kinda gross how messy you get especially since it like...gets in your mouth

he's already iffy about physical affection but this man will not touch you until you have been thoroughly sanitized afterwards

he won't even let you step foot inside the house

he WILL hose you down like a dog he don't play

"y'know you should throw me more often!" "only if you're clean before I touch you."

Chrollo Lucilfer

you know when dads grab their kids by the back of their shirts and swing them?

yeah that's how he's going to throw you

at some point it just becomes routine for him to quite literally throw you into battle since you enjoy it so much

why? he has no clue but he will indulge you

and every time its like fnaf jumpscare for your opponent

Chrollo is another one who doesn't like the mess and he rather you stay a safe distance until you clean yourself

the amount of hydrogen peroxide he has to get is insane

bro refuses to let there be bloodstains on ANYTHING and he will do all your laundry too

with gloves on of course

one day you came up to him and were like "maybe we should call that the flying squirrel"

Feitan Portor

he likes your style

you're straight to the point no bs and get shit done

sometimes this little sadist sits back and lets you do all the dirty work because he likes watching you

you guys were occupied with some lowly enemies and you noticed one trying to run off

and when you tell Feitan to throw you he does it with no hesitation (even though I imagine its kind of awko cus yk...hes a small man)

and when you rip this guy apart like some sort of rabid honey badger he's like

heh nice

and when you come back covered in blood and looking like a golden retriever wagging it's tail he is a #proud bf

"we should totally name that move :3"

he doesn't say much but he'll grab your hand and lead you away from the scene

you can't tell but he has a lil proud smile behind his cloak mask thingy

[justcallmeanobsessor]

-Puppy Love-

-Trigger Warnings: Dub-Con, Sexual Content, Animalistic Behavior, Slight Gore, Mentions of Blood/Claws, Pouncing on reader, Violence, Monster, knotting

-Pairing: Male Werewolf x gn Vampire!reader

INTRO:

His hot breath fans across my face. His heavy body lays atop me, warming my cold skin. His eyes look at me as if I'm his prey, entirely forgetting about the mangled corpse that lies just a few feet away. This look is one of a man that has been starved for years and has just caught sight of his favorite treat. It runs chills across my spine and I can almost feel my once pumping heart skipping a beat. This is wrong, so very wrong, it wasn't meant to be like this but how hard it is to refuse him when he begs me so earnestly with those puppy dog eyes.

The night was a full moon, the perfect time for a hunt, though the human that had caught my eye seemed to think otherwise. Instead it decided to make this way harder with running from me. ‘Great.’ I cursed with annoyance but before I could even go after the blood bag, a ball of dark brown fur barreled in front of me towards the panicking human. The human could barely get even 10 more feet away till it was caught in the teeth of the fury creature. 

To say I was pissed is an understatement. This mangy mutt just stole my meal right from under me. “Hey! That was my catch!” He didn't even bother to look up from what was supposed to be my drink for the night, instead he just kept ripping apart pieces of flesh and eating with no care for cleanliness, like some damn rabid animal.

I couldn't hold back my anger any longer from this insolent bastard. I walked up to him and with all my strength I ripped him off the mangled flesh, pinning him to a tree so we are chest to chest or more like my face to his chest. He was tall to say the least, I had to crank my neck back to meet his eyes.

I bared my fangs at him, hissing in a warning as he snarled a low grumble. “Get. Off. Me.”

His growled words did not faze me in my blinded rage. “That was MY catch, you damned fleabag!” I shouted at him, unable to comprehend my own anger and annoyance,  “You were too slow.” He smirked, baring his canines at me “That's your excuse!” This guy was pushing my patience.

“Food is food, I don't need an excuse to eat, angel.” I paused, the word of endearment he had called me caught me off guard as I stared wide eyed at him in silence, a warmth spreading across my face, most of me disgusted at what he had called me and the other half kinda lik- I quickly shook my head as I noticed him still staring at me with that stupid ass smirk. “Just! stay out of my way you mangy mutt!” “Anything for you angel” He winked at me as I let him go, shoving him a bit as I did so. Then he left, without a single glance back at the once living prey he had stolen, nor at me.

—----------------------------------------------------

A month had passed since that annoying encounter and instead of staying out of my way, he seemed to be popping up even more. Always to intercept or disturbed my meals and always with that. Same. Stupid. Smirk. “Having a nice meal angel?” “To slow, again angel” “Fancy seeing you hear angel.” He's a pest that's what he is, a pest that I can't get rid of. 

I was once again back on another hunt that had thankfully turned out successful. I feel a sense of satisfaction as I stood there in the midst of the dark forest with my fangs deep in the neck of an unsuspecting human girl. Drops of blood ran down my chin as I drank my fill, humming with delight of finally getting something to drink after days of writhing in thirst because of that pesky mutt. 

Sadly my peace was quickly cut short at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching and the heavy scent of musk filling my senses to the point that it made my head spin and my mind turn foggy. I was brought out of my haze by the feeling of my back hitting the cold forest ground. A large frame was above me, laying all its wait on my body, pinning me between the ground and its warm body. Its pants brushed over my face with a scent of iron on its breath. 

As I looked up I was pissed to see the one and only smug ass fleabag laying on top of me. Though It took me a bit to notice that instead of having his usual smirk, he looked at me with a flushed face and begging eyes. It was disgusting how that cocky bastard could revert to such a state with no shame, has he no self respect? 

That thought was further solidified as he started to grind against me and to my horror, his length was already hard and prodding at my clothed entrance. He whined and whimpered into my ear. “Please, please, Please~” He begged over and over again. A blush now starting to arise on my cheeks without my wanting. The scent of him started to make ressisting become even harder as it clouded my mind. This was wrong, this was SO wrong. Our kinds are enemies, we would become outcasts if anyone ever found out but no matter how wrong it was, it just felt. So. Very. Right. So in my foggy state my resistance faltered and I said “Yes.” 

He wasted no time in ripping off every piece of clothing that was separating our bodies from each other. After throwing the tattered pisces somewhere behind him, he put his body flush against mine once again. His fur was softer than I had imagined and the scent of him seemed to be embedded into every strand of brown fur. He rubbed himself against me, scenting my body and providing stimulation to his weeping cock that hung between us, hard and much larger than anything I could imagine. “That's not going to fit!” I cried to him, he responded with licks to my face, cleaning off the blood from my chin. If this was his way of trying to comfort me it definitely was not working.My mind panicked, knowing that this was going to hurt. 

He positioned himself between my legs and with his clawed hands, pulled my feet to rest on his shoulders, bending me to better angle his head to my quivering hole. I had thought maybe some side of him was still rational and he would at least take it slow but I guess I underestimated his animalistic side, because within a few seconds he slammed into me with a forceful thrust, sheathing his whole cock inside of me with one movement. His hands held my hips to keep me in place, which further intensified the feeling of his length filling every inch inside of me.

My mouth had fallen agape in a silent scream. My back arching off the ground as he continued to thrust into me, not giving my body a single second to adjust to his size. My hands clambered for something to hold on to, finding the soft fur of his back and griping the fur with all my strength, pulling every so often, making a low groan come from the whimpering beast above me. 

He sped up his movements, thrusting into my depths like an animal in heat. I look down to where his cock is spreading to me only to see a bump from right above my pelvis every time he enters me. Just the sight pulls a moan from my throat. 

I throw my head back when he angles himself that hits a spot inside of me, immediately drawing me to an orgasam that leaves my body trembling with pleasure. My hole grips around his length as he continues to thrusts. I start to feel the base of his cock grow, stretching me even more and with one last thrust deep inside of me, he releases his seed with a loud moan, collapsing on top of me. 

Pants are all that are heard in the dark forest, his body rests on me as we come down from our highs. The knot at the base of his cock connects us and makes it impossible to detach from each other without something being damaged. After a few minutes he raises his head to look at me, a smirk back on his face. He moves to pick me up from the ground, my legs dropping to wrap around his waist. As he holds me to be level with his smug face. He says one thing that makes my whole body both turn frigid and go completely hot. “My Mate.” Shit.

[stanheighttrapped]

okay but i'm still thinking about adam waiting for lawrence to come back for him. adam sitting on that disgusting bathroom floor staring at the door that kramer slammed shut minutes... no, hours? days ago maybe? adam fading in and out of consciousness where his dreams are filled with lawrence holding him close, whispering "i told you you'd be okay" only to wake up and realize lawrence isn't coming back. adam breaking down, screaming until he spits blood on the ground and then using whatever strength he has left to claw at the walls like a rabid, starving animal that's been left to rot. and when the hunger finally gets too much, he starts clawing at the meat on his thighs, desperately trying to hold out for lawrence's return.

and when lawrence finally sees adam's corpse for the first time, he freezes. the bloody handprints on the wall from where adam ripped his fingernails off trying to claw his way out, the scratches around his ankle where the cuff still sits, the chunks of missing flesh. he's so guilt ridden that he forgets entirely why he's back in that horrible bathroom. all he can do is stand and stare. stare at the man who he promised to come back for. the man who had kept that fucking photo of lawrence's wife and daughter a secret from him despite knowing lawrence was the reason they had been nearly killed. who begged for him to wake up because he needed him. the man who was never supposed to make it out of that bathroom, but who lawrence gave such false hope to. the man who died thinking lawrence betrayed or forgot about him and had gone insane trying to cope while slowing succumbing to his injuries.

[valleydean]

The Beginning

Story by: valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) Art by: sidewinder @hawkland

Rating: Explicit

Word count: ~118k

Tags/archive warnings: endverse, zombie apocalypse, graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore, drug use, animal death, Dean POV, Cas POV, Castiel's loss of angelic grace, newly human Castiel, jealous Dean, fear of abandonment, angst, rough sex, body horror, internalized homophobia, denial, minor Cas/OC, drugs as a coping mechanism, sex as a coping mechanism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn, slow build, codependency

Summary: One year ago, soon after Lucifer was freed from the Cage, Dean and Sam parted ways. Since then, Dean has been hunting on his own and, along with Cas despite his declining grace, searching for a way to prevent the apocalypse. When the outbreak of the Croatoan virus begins, Dean and Cas head to Bobby’s to plan their next move. On the way, as the contagion rapidly spreads through America, they must contend with the rabid infected, martial law, and humans who will do anything to ensure their own survival.

Preview:

Cas stepped to the other side of the door and turned around to face Dean. Dean stopped walking, looking forward at Cas and waiting for him to say anything at all.

When he did, it was, “In there.”

Dean pulled his brows together, his eyes flashing to the dark window panel in the door. The directional light of his flashlight bounced off of it, obscuring whatever was inside. The glass was a deeply black mirror.

His gut clenched, feeling like someone had shoved their hand into his intestines and was trying to rip them out. He slowly brought his face closer to the window. His transparent reflection stared back pensively. He looked beyond it, squinting and refocusing his eyes.

There were bodies in there—maybe three of four. He couldn’t really tell. Some of them were in pieces. Pools of blood soaked them, glinting like a knife in the moonlight that fought its way through the dirty windows.

Dean opened his mouth, about to ask what the hell happened.

Something slammed against the other side of the glass. A bloody hand. Dean jumped back, his shout echoing down the hall. It shattered the bubble of silence—so, too, did the banging on the glass as the man inside tried to beat his way out of the room. His dripping red fists pounded incessantly, leaving smears on the window. He was giving off animalistic grunts and hisses.

“What the…” Dean said, his heart still in his throat. He looked at Cas, demanding an answer. Part of him wanted to blame Cas, to ask him why the hell he slaughtered people and left them in a room. But maybe they weren’t people. Then, what? Demons? Monsters?

Something didn’t add up.

The man kept doing everything he could to bust through the glass. Dean noticed the paring knife clutched in his fist.

Cas didn’t kill those people.

“I led them here and locked them inside,” Cas said, as if he’d read Dean’s mind. “They killed each other.”

The lines of Dean’s forehead bunched up when he lifted his brows in surprise. There was something he was missing. It felt like a forgotten word on the tip of his tongue. A distorted memory from a faded dream.

“You’ve seen this before,” Cas supplied. “The Croatoan virus.”

The words hit Dean like a truck. Blanching, he said, “Croatoan? You mean, the thing that turns everybody into Jack Torrance?”

“No, the demon virus that triggers murderous actions in anyone who contracts it,” Cas corrected, and Dean was still too busy freaking out to tell Cas they pretty much said the same thing. Pressing his lips together, Cas turned his gaze on the door, and there was a subdued kind of despondency in them, like he was trying to control how much emotion he showed on his face. “It’s one of the signs of the apocalypse. This is Lucifer’s doing. He unleashed the Horseman Pestilence.”

“Pestilence,” Dean echoed, the word taking a long time to process. He remembered, thirteen months ago, when he and Sam cut the ring off War’s fingers. That had been the day he and Sam parted ways. Dean hadn’t seen his brother since. He’d only talked to him once on the phone, when Sam called him a few weeks later to tell Dean that Lucifer wanted him as his meatsuit.

Dean rattled his head, trying to shake loose any thoughts of Sam. He focused on Cas saying, “The entire town’s been infected.”

Dean remembered how quickly the virus spread—and how it spread. An infected person had to bleed into someone’s open wound. Once the blood mixed, that was it. Soon after, the victim would turn into a one-track-mind, bloodthirsty monster.

He glanced back at the doorway. The man was still standing behind the glass, looking at Dean like he was lunch, but at least he’d stopped pounding on the window.

“It isn’t the only one,” Cas continued. “There are pockets of the virus across America—possibly the world.”

How hadn’t Dean heard about this? His chest felt too small, like his ribcage was shrinking around his heart and lungs. “Where’d it start?”

“I don’t know.”

Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 9

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 12.5k

(CW: SMUT 18+, brief descriptions of gore, vampire biting/blood drinking, unprotected p in v sex, cunnilingus)

Summary:

“You turned me into a vampire?” You practically shriek at Astarion. You keep your palms pressed firmly into the ground, fighting against your instinct to immediately rip his throat out. It’s hard to restrain yourself. You feel like a wild animal.

There’s a flash of panic that passes over Astarion’s face before his brows knit together in confusion. “You’re angry?”

You huff out a humorless laugh, eyes turning up to the sky to check if this is some sort of cosmic joke. “Yes, I’m fucking angry, Astarion! What did you do to me? You killed me!”

“Raphael killed you!” He shoots back defensively. “You were dying! I didn’t have a choice.” 

Read on ao3 here

You can’t focus on anything other than this hunger. 

Oh. If this was how good blood tasted, how did Astarion ever manage to pull himself away from you? 

You want to fall into him and drown. You want to devour him whole. 

The aftertaste of his blood sticks heavy in your mouth when he finally tears his wrist free from your tight grasp. You need more. You never want to stop. 

“More,” you croak out and your throat feels like it’s burning.

“There are bodies everywhere, my love. Take your pick,” Astarion says. You’re cradled in his arms, and you can’t even think to question how you got there because your entire being is consumed with this burning desire for blood.

After freeing yourself from Astarion’s arms, you crawl on your hands and knees to a downed guard a few feet away. He’s still alive, but barely. You can smell the blood pouring from the gaping wound on his thigh and can hear how it rushes under his skin. You salivate.

It’s too much work to pull off his gloves to get to his wrist, so you go straight for the gap between his helmet and his chest plate, digging your teeth into his neck. His blood is sweet and rich and so good that you can’t think straight. 

The whole thing is messy and crude and violent. You can’t even bother to care right now. 

You hear yourself let out an angry growl when you’ve drained that man. More, still more. You crawl a few feet to the next body on the floor. This one is dead and their blood is stale. And still, you drink until there is nothing left. 

The more blood you consume, the more your mind clears and the sharper your senses become. Has the world always been so loud? So bright?

When you finish draining that man, still on your hands and knees on the floor, you look up to the rest of the group. You can feel the blood running down your chin and neck, staining the front of your dress. There’s blood all over you, in various stages of drying- the rusty tear tracks running down your face from the energy wave Raphael had unleashed, the thick clumps of your hair that are matted and still wet with blood from when your head had been bashed into the wall. 

Everyone's faces are painted with varying shades of displeasure and horror. Shadowheart has big, sorrowful eyes and Wyll is looking down at you as if you were a rabid animal. 

All except Astarion, who is kneeling on the ground and staring at you with a wide smile on his face, like this is the embodiment of his wildest dreams. 

You had just died and he had the audacity to be happy about it?

You burn with an anger that doesn’t fully belong to you. It’s uncontrollable. You’re scared of yourself. Everything is too much; your emotions all feel too big. 

What sort of monster had Astarion turned you into? 

The two of you had agreed that you would get to decide when you were turned into a vampire- that you would pick when and how, and it would be a lovely memory that you would get to cherish forever.

This is most certainly not that. 

“You turned me into a vampire?” You practically shriek at Astarion. You keep your palms pressed firmly into the ground, fighting back against your instinct to immediately rip his throat out. It’s hard to restrain yourself. You feel like a wild animal.

There’s a flash of panic that passes over Astarion’s face before his brows knit together in confusion. “You’re angry?”

You huff out a humorless laugh, eyes turning up to the sky to check if this is some sort of cosmic joke. “Yes, I’m fucking angry, Astarion! What did you do to me? You killed me!”

“Raphael killed you!” He shoots back defensively. “You were dying! I didn’t have a choice.” 

There’s genuine sorrow in his voice as he practically pleads with you to understand. And you do. But there’s something itching at your throat and you just died and you’re angry and you’re upset. 

It feels like you are watching yourself react, trapped away in a haze. There are tears rolling down your cheeks and desperate, heaving sobs choking their way up from your throat that have you curling in on yourself to weep. Astarion must have come to sit by you because you feel his hand run soothingly down your back. You wrench your body away from him. 

You did not want comfort. Not now. 

“You took away my choice, Astarion! Again!” You yell at him between your sobs, too aware of the way each tear feels as it rolls down your face. Everything was just too much. Everything felt wrong in your body. “My whole life, I knew I would have little control over who I married. But you took away the choice of whether I lived or died!” 

“You were human, we would have gotten to this point eventually. We had already talked about turning you.” Astarion’s hands have fallen in his lap and he looks at you with such melancholy. It makes your skin itch, to think he pities you in your current state. 

“It’s about autonomy, Astarion! It’s about choosing what happens to my body and when that happens. You of all people should understand that!”

If you were thinking clearly, you would never have brought up his past. The part of your mind that is still you and not this monstrous new version of yourself shatters as you watch his face scrunch in pain and anger. 

“So, you’re allowed to always be angry at me, but I’m not supposed to have my own feelings?” Astarion asks. “I’m just supposed to immediately forgive you and forget the fact that you invaded my privacy by reading my diary? Am I not allowed to be scared after I just watched your skull practically shatter in front of me?” 

He struggles in vain to steady the underlying shake in his voice. “Was I not supposed to do everything in my power to save you? Please, do not treat me like I have been completely unreasonable or like you have never done anything to hurt me. You know as well as I do that you would have made the same choice if I were the one lying in a pool of blood in front of you.”

And you simply sit there, powerless, as the person who knows you most intimately in the world calls your bluff. 

He’s right. He has seen right through you in the way that only he can. You had made that same exact choice when he returned home from a previous trip with that gaping wound in his side. You had not thought, you had not hesitated when you cut your hand open and fed him your blood. In that moment, all that mattered was saving Astarion by any means necessary. 

“Well, if you would have told me everything, we probably wouldn’t have even been in this mess in the first place, would we?” You shout back, trying to deflect from how Astarion had just exposed the flaws in your anger. 

To be fair, only you can comprehend the full weight of your question. Astarion still doesn’t know that you have the final gem. Nevertheless, it rings true. The communication issues have compounded on themselves. If Astarion had let you help in his search, you would not have read his diary and he would not have sent you away to be kidnapped. And if you were not kidnapped, you would not have had to fight Raphael. You would still be alive. 

Astarion’s crimson eyes flare with anger because he knows that you are right, too. You both just stare at each other, challenging the other to back down. In the background, you hear someone awkwardly clear their throat, but you and Astarion stay fixated on one another. Apparently, a side-effect of vampirism was unwavering focus. 

You break first, though, when you begin to grow impatient. 

“You say that you are not allowed to have your own feelings, but the minute you set your mind on something, my feelings on the subject become completely irrelevant. It’s all you, Astarion. It’s always about you and how you feel,” you snarl. “I have given you every opportunity to listen to me and to be honest with me and you have fought against me at every turn.”

Astarion opens his mouth like he is going to interrupt, but you cut him off.

“No. Even when you promised that you would tell the truth, you still carefully selected what insignificant information would placate me without giving me any of the meaningful details. How am I ever supposed to trust you if I doubt every word you say?”

“I have never once lied to you,” Astarion defends, his jaw locked tight.  

“A lie by omission is still a lie. Evading my questions with half-truths is still half-lying,” you point out, “Astarion, I don’t know how I can be with you if you’re unable to understand why your actions hurt me.”

“Are you-” Astarion stumbles on his words, unable to even finish the thought. But his eyes betray him, asking are you done with me?

“No, never. I-” you cut yourself off, bringing your hands up to cover your eyes and block out all the too-bright lights. Have candles always burned so brightly? “I think you were right. I think we need some space so we can both process for a bit. I need time to be angry at you. I need time to adjust.”

“My love, I’m so sorry, but that can’t happen.” He sounds so genuinely remorseful. His hands wrap around your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from where they shield your eyes from the overwhelming, flickering candlelight. You can tell Astarion wants you to be looking at him while he speaks and his eyes are soft and round with concern. “You need me now more than ever. You’re going to be hungry, going to need to feed. There’s so much I need to teach you.”

“So you’re making this decision for me, too? That’s wonderful.” You rip your hands out of his grasp. 

Why does he keep insisting on reaching out to touch you? Does he not see you struggling? Does he not remember how disorienting it was to first wake up all those years ago? You’re so aware of everything and it makes his touch against your skin practically hurt.

Some distant, detached part of your mind reminds you that he is probably looking to ground himself. Touching. Always touching. Astarion needed that comfort and you weren’t able to provide him with that right now.

You feel guilty and angry at yourself that you somehow keep hurting Astarion without even trying. You’re mourning your life and the loss of everything normal that you once knew. And you hadn’t even begun to fully process the fact that you had just killed people. It was all a blur when you had jammed your knife into Raphael’s throat but his blood was caking uncomfortably on your hands and that poor man who you had just drained on the floor might have been at the brink of death, but it was still you who killed him. 

You lean over and throw up. Bile and congealed blood force their way up your throat and leave a dirty, metallic taste in your mouth. Astarion reaches out again, and this time you let him hold the hair away from your face as you vomit on the floor. Over the sounds of your sobbing and heaving, you faintly hear a discussion before everyone leaves the room. 

And then, it is just you and Astarion and it’s finally quiet. Astarion whispers soothing words to you in a smooth, low voice that doesn’t make your eardrums feel like they’re splitting open inside your head.

When your sobs eventually diminish into little sniffles, Astarion lets go of your hair. He makes a motion like he’s going to stroke your face before he hesitates and pulls away. 

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “The transition can be… a lot. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s been so long since I was turned.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” you ask.

Astarion’s face falls. “Is that really what you want? I’ll leave if you tell me to.”

“No,” you say, almost immediately. You look at your hands in your lap, stained an ugly, rusted brown. Your first instinct isn’t repulsion, but rather that you want to bring them up to your mouth and lick them clean, even if the blood is stale and dry. You feel disgusted with yourself. “What happened to me?”

Astarion seems at a loss for words.

“I want to go home,” you say.

Let there be some comfort, some sense of familiarity, in this tidal wave of foreign sensations.

“We can’t yet,” Astarion says. His voice is so forlorn, as if it is hurting him to see you like this. “It’s about to be daybreak and we can’t travel in the sun.”

It’s yet another reminder of everything you have lost.

“Great, just what I needed,” you scoff. 

“There’s an inn across the street. The others went over to get us rooms.”

So that’s where everybody else went. How long ago was that? How long had you been curled in on yourself on the floor, weeping and sick and desperately craving blood?

Astarion must have been trying to give you privacy. Even now, he was still taking care of you- allowing you to grieve without the other’s prying eyes and helping to take away some of the overwhelming stimulation in the room.

“I can go tell Shadowheart to prepare a bath for you, if you’d like me to?” Astarion asks, almost as if he can sense that you are getting lost in your own mind again. He offers you a little smile, “I find those help.”

Those words sounded so familiar… It takes you a moment to place that you had read them in his diary. Astarion had not meant his jab as a jab but it still makes you painfully, acutely aware of how cruelly you had betrayed his trust. You want to start sobbing again.

You simply nod at Astarion, accepting his offer, unable to find the words to say anything else. He seems reluctant to leave you, but he finally pushes himself up from the floor.

“I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” His hand stretches out awkwardly between the two of you and when you don’t reach out to grab it, he drops it. With a shake of his head, he turns on his heel and leaves.

“Wait-” you call after him and Astarion turns to regard you curiously. You look down at your hands in your lap, feeling a bit silly that you don’t know the first thing about vampirism, despite all the months you spent married to one. “Will I need more blood? I don’t- how do I even know when I’m hungry? I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“You won’t, little flower, precisely because even now, in the peak of your bloodlust, you are still aware enough to worry about others.” Astarion’s eyes soften. “Though, it is probably a good idea for you to drink a bit more while I’m gone. Can you promise me that you’ll try?”

You nod and Astarion gives you one last fleeting smile before he is leaving the room. 

And for a moment, you close your eyes and let yourself sit in nothing but darkness. You sit until you can no longer deny your unquenchable thirst. You don’t even need to look, don’t even need to open your eyes as you drag yourself to a new source of blood.

Only, when you open them again, you are met by Raphael’s cold, dead stare and the deep gash in his throat, nearly severing his head from his body. That is not an image you will ever forget. You fall backward on your hands in horror, trying to back away from him as quickly as possible. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you pull your knees into your chest. You are too aware of the devilish body sitting just a few feet away from you. Raphael’s face stays at the front of your mind. His eyes had not even been that different than when he was alive, looking at you with pure nothingness behind them, like you were so insignificant that you did not even deserve to be seen.

But you had promised Astarion that you would try to drink something and the idea of blood is slowly consuming you, pushing away that horrible image. You scan the room and find another dead guard to drain. 

And you do feel marginally better after drinking some blood, so you finally pick yourself up off the ground. It feels too cold in the room. You hadn’t even realized that you were shivering. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the familiar shimmer of one of the green gems, still encased in glass on their pedestals, completely unharmed by the commotion.

You step closer to them, reaching out a hand to press against the glass covering. From this close, there’s no shred of doubt in your mind- your mother’s necklace had contained the final gem all this time. But why? How did she even get one?

It seems foolish to just leave them there when Raphael had gone through so much trouble to find them. Lifting up the covers, you slide the gems off their pedestals. You’ve just tucked them into your skirt when Astarion’s voice surprises you. 

“Are you ready, darling?”

You try to gauge whether Astarion had caught you slipping the gems into your pocket, but he simply leans against the doorframe on the other side of the room. 

When you come to stand a few steps in front of him, Astarion asks,“Did you treat yourself to a snack while I was gone?” 

You nod but you can’t help the way your gaze darts nervously over to Raphael’s body at the mention of a ‘snack.’ His dead eyes feel like they have followed you as you walked across the room. 

“Oh,” Astarion’s smile drops instantly. He holds his hand out to you. “Come, let’s leave. We never have to look at him again.” 

You know Astarion means to be reassuring but you fear the image of Raphael’s cold, dead face has been burned into your retinas. 

Attempting to clear your mind, you give your head a little shake and take a deep breath before reaching your hand out to grab Astarion’s. You do not miss the subtle way he squeezes your fingers, as if he is afraid that you will drop his hand again. 

When you finally leave the room, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. With your hands laced, you let Astarion lead you through the maze of Raphael’s house to the inn across the street, where a warm bath is waiting for you. Astarion shows you to a room. Shadowheart is there and when she sees you, she gives you the same melancholic little smile that had been painted on Astarion’s own face all night and it makes you want to roll your eyes in disgust. How long would everyone insist on treating you like you were made of glass?

“You’ll tell me if you need anything?” Astarion asks. He’s trying to keep his voice measured but there is a pleading, desperate undertone. You know he is only trying to help, but that is of little comfort to you right now. You just need time by yourself.

You nod stiffly at him and he awkwardly clears his throat, finally dropping your hand. 

“I love-” 

“Don’t,” you cut Astarion off. “Please, don’t do that to me right now.”

Astarion’s brow creases in displeasure and he turns on his heel to leave immediately. You stare after him, watching his figure retreat to the room next to yours. He shuts the door with an angry slam. 

Where there would normally be a heavy ache in your chest, there is nothing. Just a deep dread settling in your stomach.

When you close the door to your own room, Shadowheart’s back is turned. Seizing your opportunity, you quietly tuck the gems into a drawer in a dresser. You aren’t entirely sure what possesses you to keep them a secret, but after so long of being kept in the dark by Astarion, it’s only fair you get to have a secret of your own for a while. 

Shadowheart helps you peel off your dress, which is stiff and hard where the blood has dried into the fabric. 

“I sent Gale into the city to get us all new clothes. I fear this dress is beyond repair,” Shadowheart says, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Hopefully, he’ll come back with something at least somewhat presentable for you to wear on the ride back. You never know though. It is Gale, after all. He only ever wears purple.” 

There’s a small smile on her face and you can tell she is trying to raise your spirits. It was usually easy to goad you into poking fun at Gale. But this time, you just hum in response. The idea of laughter seems too foreign, too impossible right now. 

In the tub, you let her scrub the dried blood off your skin as you numbly stare ahead at the wall. The water surrounding you turns an unpleasant shade of red. 

After your skin has been cleaned, Shadowheart gives you a towel and instructs you to stand behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. She calls upon some of the workers from the inn and they refill the tub with fresh, clear water. 

You climb back and sink into the warm water, watching the steam curl around the edges of the tub. Shadowheart lets you sit there as long as you want and you stay until long after the water has grown cold and started to make you shiver.

Shadowheart helps you into the dress Gale brought back from the city (which is indeed a rich, deep purple). You’re too aware of the way the once-soft velvet scratches uncomfortably against the skin of your arms. 

It’s only after you’ve dressed and Shadowheart has put your hair into a simple braid down your back that you pass by a mirror. You don’t see yourself. Immediately, you try to conjure the last glimpse of yourself that you had gotten in the mirror before you left on your trip. Even then, the image in your mind is fuzzy- you had not been paying attention to details. You had not known it would be the last time you would ever see yourself. 

Tears begin welling up in your eyes again.

“Let’s just cover that, why don’t we?” Shadowheart says, turning the mirror around to face the wall.

You spend the rest of the afternoon just sitting in your room in the inn with the curtains drawn and the lights all turned off. It should be silent and dark. It isn’t. Somehow, your new senses cause you to hear every creak and groan of the building. You can hear the mice in the walls, smell the blood of all the other bodies moving in the building.

How did Astarion manage to live like this? 

Eventually, Shadowheart knocks on your door to let you know the sun has set and it is time to leave. You follow her outside, down the cobblestone streets of the city to a stable on the outskirts of town.

Everyone else is standing together. They all look better- washed and free of grime and dressed in fresh clothes. You would almost be relieved to see them if they didn’t all immediately fall quiet in your presence. It makes you feel murderous.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Halsin breaks the silence with a friendly smile. 

“I may look like it, but I certainly don’t feel better,” you hiss back, even though you know Halsin does not deserve your anger. “Just because I am no longer vomiting blood on the floor doesn’t mean that I’m not in constant agony.”

Everyone’s eyes dart around nervously, like they’re unsure what to say in such an awkward situation.

Astarion laughs, with a roll of his eyes. “Oh, stop being melodramatic, you’re perfectly fine. You’re adjusting.” 

Of course, Astarion looks beautiful in the moonlight. His hair is silver and incandescent, shining brightly against his dark, black coat. 

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel!” You snap at him, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance.

“So, what?” Astarion asks you. “You’re just going to keep behaving like a-”

“Ehem,” Gale interrupts. “Not that… this isn’t fun to watch and all, but we need to leave if we want to make it back by sunrise.”

You and Astarion lock heated gazed for a moment longer before you’re shoving past him to the rest of the group. Everyone else is standing next to horses, which have been saddled and prepared for the ride back to the Ancunin manor. 

“Horses,” you say, a bit surprised.

“They were quicker than carriages,” Astarion answers, coming to stand by your side. His gloved hand brushes against your own for just a moment. “I wasn’t about to leave you with that vile man a second longer than was necessary.”

“There’s not enough of them for me or Shadowheart to have our own,” you observe.

“You’ll ride with me and she can ride with Lae’zel,” Astarion says, as if the answer was so obvious.

“No, I will not be riding with you!” You look at Astarion, incredulous. “You’re not allowed to make decisions for me anymore.” 

Since Shadowheart already has a riding partner, you turn to your next closest friend, Halsin. “Can I ride with you?”

To put it bluntly- you’ve never seen cool, collected, go-with-the-flow Halsin look more uncomfortable and unsure in his life. He obviously doesn’t want to be in the middle of your and Astarion’s argument. Astarion is glaring daggers at Halsin. That selfish, monstrous part of you which has grown louder since your turning feels a bit vindicated that Astarion is jealous.

Halsin clears his throat nervously. “I’m truly sorry, my lady, but propriety dictates that you can’t ride with a man that’s not your husband.”

Of course. Silly you, thinking that a friend would be willing to help you in your time of need.  Could this day get any worse?

You turn to your backup plan- the only other woman who does not already have a riding partner. 

“Karlach, please.”

“Not a good idea.” Astarion interrupts. “We don’t know if you can control your bloodlust, darling. I’m the only person here you can’t hurt.”

Selfish bastard. Why does he now suddenly feel the need to control even the most minute details of your life, like who you ride on a horse with? Does he no longer love you enough to offer you this small sense of comfort in what has been an obviously distressing time?

“Please,” you ignore him, begging Karlach again.

“Alright,” she agrees warily. “But if I catch you staring at my neck for too long, you have to get on with him.”

“Deal,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. 

Which, maybe, is not the most sensitive thing to do the day after you had just resolved Astarion’s deal with a devil. He shoots you an annoyed look. 

The first half of the ride is quiet and contemplative. Every time you turn to look, Astarion’s eyes are already on you and he’s got this distant, faraway look that tells you he’s a bit too lost in his thoughts. You can feel everyone else watching you carefully, as well, like you are a ticking time bomb bound to explode at any moment. 

It does not occur to you until hours into your journey that perhaps Astarion had been so insistent on you riding with him because he is worried that you are going to leave him the moment that you get home. In his mind, perhaps he was simply trying to spend one last moment with you. Perhaps he even believed he could convince you to stay. It was just the kind of foolishly insecure thing that Astarion would think. He should know better by now- you were not so easy to chase off, even if you had complicated feelings about him at the moment. 

And the ride continues in silence until eventually, Karlach nearly bursts with the need to talk. The two of you start chatting, with others joining in occasionally. Everyone seems to start relaxing around you, now that you have proven that you are not completely feral. 

Ultimately, the ride home is uneventful. Karlach talks and by the end, her mood is so infectious that she even gets you to laugh a couple times. You’re so grateful for her humor, it was just the amount of levity you needed. 

You’re sure that you’ve never been more happy to be home before and you're desperate to be inside. As you walk from the stables back toward the manor, you find yourself fantasizing about how wonderful it will feel to lie down on your bed, even if you don’t need sleep anymore. 

Lifting your foot, you move to step over the entryway. Except, you’re stuck. It’s as if there’s some sort of invisible wall barring you from entry. 

Of course, because vampires can’t enter a residence without permission.

Astarion’s got a little smirk on his face as he stands in the hallway, looking back at you stuck outside. 

“I’m waiting for you to ask nicely, little flower,” he teases. 

“Can I come inside?” You spit out through gritted teeth.

Astarion looks like he’s considering it for a minute before he frowns. “Not nice enough, try again.”

“Oh, beloved husband, can I please come into our house?” You ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. But you plaster a sweet smile on your face at the end and Astarion seems to have had his fun with you, anyway. 

“Welcome home, darling. Please, do come inside. You’re keeping everyone waiting,” Astarion says, sweeping into an overdramatic, elegant bow.

You make sure to shove his shoulder with your own when you pass him. 

Shadowheart has already drawn the heavy curtains for you when you enter your room. 

The first thing you do is carefully tuck the gems away in the hollowed out book on your bookshelf. You could deal with that problem later. For now, it was time to wallow.

For hours, you lie in bed, staring up at the mahogany panel on top of your four poster bed. It all feels wrong. You’re so tired, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t will your body to sleep. You wish you had some book, like Essential Knowledge on Being a Vampire, to teach you how to solve this issue.

Later that evening, there’s a knock on your door and you open it to find Astarion.

“I have something for you,” he says, producing a jar of sloshy red liquid from behind his back. 

“It’s not fresh,” you say with a twinge of disappointment.

“You’re too spoiled, pet.” Astarion laughs. “I lived on nothing but rats and bugs for 200 years. I assure you, many vampires would kill for stale human blood.”

You pout, hoping that trick still works and Astarion will give in to you. “Why can’t you just call up one of your snacks for me? Why do I have to drink it like this?”

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion reprimands you as he finally steps past you into your bedroom. “It took me a very long time to curate such a wonderful collection of vintages. The last thing I need is for you to drain one of them dry and scare the rest off.”

“So, I’m stuck with that then?” You ask, pointing to the jar of blood in his hand. 

“Or drinking from me,” Astarion shoots you a flirty wink. “I’m more than happy to drink enough to sustain the both of us.”

That hungry, lustful part of you runs wild with the idea. You and Astarion could spend your nights wrapped together again, but now it would not just be him biting you. Now, you could bite back. You could finally taste him.

But that doesn’t seem like a good idea with the current state of your marriage- it would just add confusion and more unnecessarily complicated emotions.

“I don’t want anything else from you, Astarion.” Your harsh words aren’t filled with the normal tenacity behind them. 

It’s all too much, the constant smells and having to hold yourself back from sinking your teeth into everyone around you. You collapse into a chair in the corner of your room. 

“I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep,” you confess in a quiet voice. 

You know Astarion heard you. Now that you are a vampire, you understand the sensitivity of vampiric hearing. 

Astarion places the jar of blood on the table next to you. You’re reminded of so long ago, that first day you were here, when Astarion kept sending you food even though you were determined not to eat. He was too good at this- at caring for you even when you were determined to be difficult.

“That comes with time,” Astarion assures you, sinking to his knees in front of where you sit. He looks unsure for a moment before he reaches out, grabbing your hands in his own and pulling your attention to him. “I know that you’re stubborn and impatient and you just want everything to go back to normal, but things have changed. It will take time. I have learned the hard way that you cannot just rush past all the hardships in life, no matter how desperately you wish to.”

Astarion’s thumb traces soothing circles on your hand as he continues speaking, “We’re both here and we’re both safe. And I know you need time to be angry at me. And though I know I will forgive you, I’m still hurt by your invasion of my privacy. So… let’s just… spend some time apart. And know that whenever you decide you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” 

Astarion reaches out, ghosting his thumb along your cheek as the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smile. “And don’t rush, we have all the time in the world, my love.”

You nod, unable to speak in fear that tears will start welling up in your eyes again. Gods, was this some sort of horrible symptom of vampirism that you just kept crying all the time? If so, you need to figure out how to deal with that quickly, because these constant tears were a nuisance. 

Astarion gives your hand a little squeeze before he’s rising from where he kneels on the floor, turning to leave your room. 

“I- thank you, Astarion,” you say when he’s in the doorway. He pauses but doesn’t peek over his shoulder to look back at you, as if he knows that will cause you to lose the nerve to continue speaking. “I don’t say that to you often enough, but know that I am very grateful for all that you’ve done for me.”

—------------

The next evening, there’s another gentle knock on your door but no one is there when you open it. The only thing you see is a leatherbound book propped up next to your door. 

It looks remarkably similar to Astarion’s diary and it must have been left by him, but there was no way he was just… giving you his diary, right? Not when it was still such a sore subject between the two of you. 

What, was this some sort of weird way to test your loyalty?

You debate whether you should ignore the gift completely but as usual, your curiosity gets the better of you. After grabbing the book, you curl up on your bed and open the front cover. 

The first thing you see is your name, your actual name, which Astarion called you so rarely. It’s written in his beautiful, looping cursive and it nearly pulls the breath from your lungs when you see it.

Underneath your name, the first page is a letter to you.

My dear wife,

I know that you are inquisitive by nature and I am sure you are filled to the brim with questions about being a vampire. It seems unfair of me to turn you into one and then send you off into the metaphorical dark, so I thought I might offer you some advice. As you have learned, I have grown to find writing rather cathartic, so I thought it fitting to write to you about my own experiences as a vampire. I hope this will help ease your transition. 

Please, forgive me if I have forgotten anything. I have tried hard to think of everything you might ask and I like to think that I know you very well, but I am not nearly as creative in my curiosity as you are. 

With all that I am, know that I love you.

Your husband, 

Astarion

When you turn to the next page, a loose sheet of folded paper flutters out. There are only two sentences scribbled hastily on the paper.

I told you I would give you your space. I intend to honor that promise.

Oh, how unexpected and perfectly timed. Just yesterday, you had been wishing for a book exactly like this. It was as if your husband, Astarion, had read your mind.

Your insides feel warm and fuzzy as you hold the book to the chest, over the spot where your heart used to beat. For the first time in a long time, you have hope that everything will be okay again, that your anger will fade and love will bloom in its place, a love that was far more radiant than ever before. 

—------------

Slowly, you lose track of time. You spend a little time feeling sorry for yourself and a little time feeling sad. But mostly, you spend a lot of time not really feeling anything at all. There’s just numbness and staring at the hypnotic, swirling patterns of the wallpaper in your bedroom. 

Time moves. You don’t. 

You feel dead. Guess that makes sense. 

You settle into a new routine. Sometimes, you and Astarion bump into each other around the manor and you’re both cordial and polite, scared of intruding in the other’s space. 

You miss him. You spend your evenings rereading the book he had written for you, tracing your fingers over his lovely handwriting. But at times, the anger inside you still flickers back to life. You do not dare to approach Astarion until you are sure the flames of anger within you are long dead.  

“You know, he could have turned you into a spawn,” Shadowheart says one day. It’s enough to finally shock you out of the monotonous routine of self-pity that you had found yourself in. 

“What’s the difference?” You scoff. 

You were faintly aware of the difference between true vampires and spawn but the subject had not been discussed in any great detail in the book Astarion had written for you. You know this is due to the traumatic nature of his own life when he was a spawn. 

“He gave you his blood,” Shadowheart answers. “You’re a full and true vampire. You aren’t bound to serve him; you aren’t forced to obey his commands.” 

Shadowheart is purposefully avoiding your eyes while she continues to braid your hair. 

“You know, I thought he was going to make you a spawn,” she says. “Trust me, I’m happy that he made the right choice and didn’t. But for a second, it really looked like he was considering…” She trails off and sighs. “Well, I guess I didn’t think he would be able to resist guaranteeing that you could never leave him.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?” You ask. “Are you just trying to point out that my life isn’t as bad as it could be?”

“No, stop being difficult,” Shadowheart punctuates her statement with a tug on your hair that is a bit rougher than what is necessary. “I’m just trying to paint a full picture for you. What you do with that information is up to you.” 

She falls into a contemplative silence for a moment before she finally says, “Though, it is rather annoying when the two of you are fighting. I have to go out of my way to avoid two places. When you’re together, I only have to avoid one room.”

You roll your eyes at her comment.

“Something still feels wrong,” you confess. “It still feels like he’s controlling every aspect of my life. He decided we would be married. He decided that I was not allowed to know any details of his past or about his deal with Raphael. He was the one who decided that we would go on the trip which got us kidnapped. He decided to turn me into a vampire. He confined me to this house and made me a prisoner of the sun.”

Shadowheart sighs. “Have you tried telling him any of this? Tried explaining how you’re feeling? Have you asked him what he’s been thinking and feeling?”

“I already made it perfectly clear what I think.”

“No, you yelled at him,” Shadowheart says. She finishes braiding your hair and moves to lean against the vanity to look down at you. 

“How do I explain…” She looks off into space as she thinks for a moment before she turns back to you. “Look, Astarion has had a long and traumatic life. Have you really not noticed how he shuts down when people raise their voices around him? Same as how you start spewing insults you don’t always mean. You fight, he flees. Neither of you are capable of listening to the other in that sort of state.”

Damn her. That’s a good point. When did she have time to notice all this about the two of you? 

The realization washes over you like a wave- for all your anger about Astarion never listening to you, you had neglected to see that you had been ignoring Astarion’s needs, as well. 

This intervention from Shadowheart was good. This was what you needed- someone to shake you awake from the haze you had been trapped in so you could finally see all the damage you were causing. 

“Oh gods, I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?” you groan, letting your head fall into your hands. “I’ve been a terrible wife.”

You hear Shadowheart’s twinkly laugh and her voice is amused. “Stop being so dramatic all the time. You’re just as bad as Astarion.” 

You shoot her a look of warning between the fingers covering your face, even if you secretly relish the fact that she brought up your and Astarion’s similarities. 

“And you’re not a horrible person.” She pats your back in a comforting, reassuring motion. “You’ve been through a lot of very big life changes in the last year. You’re adapting. You’re learning. And I wouldn’t even say you’ve been too harsh on Astarion. He can get a bit too full of himself. He needs someone like you to keep his head screwed on. The two of you just need to talk and actually listen to one another for once.”

“You’re strangely wise, when you want to be,” you tell her.

She shrugs, but you see her smile.

—-----------

Astarion’s faces away from the door when you approach the study, focused on the stack of books next to him. For a moment, you silently watch him hunt along the different rows in the bookshelf before he places a book and grabs a new one from the stack. He must be reorganizing. 

You reach out and knock on the door to draw his attention. 

“You don’t need to knock if the door is open, Gale,” Astarion says, annoyed. He doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“Oh, I- I’m not Gale,” you stutter out nervously. You fear that he will be disappointed when he sees you- that the beautiful smile that used to light up his face whenever you entered the room will be gone.

But instead, Astarion’s head whips around to look at you. He nearly drops the book that he’s holding, but he manages to catch it before it clatters to the floor. It’s a clumsiness that is so uncharacteristic of Astarion, who always moves so gracefully and elegantly. You have to hide your smile. 

Here’s this man, this vampire- so powerful and so strong- and your mere presence makes him so nervous that he nearly drops everything he is holding. 

“And thank the gods for that. One Gale is already bad enough,” Astarion jokes and you manage a soft laugh at that. The smile on his face is lovely and you’re struck by the urge to just stand and watch him for hours, to study him how you used to. He tilts his head a bit to the side, in question. “What are you doing here? I thought you still weren’t speaking with me.”

“I came to apologize,” you tell him.

“Whatever for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. I’ve done plenty wrong. And I’ve actually been a bit of a tyrant as of late.” You laugh, though you are sure Astarion made his comment earnestly. You were starting to realize that he viewed you as far more infallible than you actually are. 

“You’ve been going through a big change,” Astarion continues to defend your actions.

“Please, don’t make excuses for my bad behavior. Will you just hear me out for a couple minutes?” you ask. “After, you can tell me to leave or stay or say whatever you’d like but right now, I need you to be quiet and let me speak, okay?”

Astarion nods. 

You take a deep breath and ready yourself for the speech you had prepared in your head. You had been working on it for the greater part of a day, trying to sort through your thoughts and figure out how to vocalize everything in a way that could be easily understood. You had even forced Shadowheart to listen to you practice it earlier, though she was a rather unwilling participant. 

“First of all,” you begin. “I’m sorry I read your diary and I’m sorry I haven’t given you a heartfelt apology yet. That diary was yours and I know that I never should have touched it. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. And I kept giving excuses to justify my actions rather than actually apologize, but I fully recognize that any frustration I felt about you not being upfront with me never warranted invading your privacy. I truly, sincerely apologize. It will never happen again.”

Astarion surveys you curiously, though his face remains soft and open. It’s a good sign, at least, that he seems receptive to your apology. 

You continue speaking. “And when you confronted me, rightfully angry, I got upset and yelled at you because I felt guilty. I need to stop doing that- I need to learn to take a break when I feel myself getting upset. I know that I can be mean when I’m provoked and I lash out and hurt other people. It happened when you tried to distance yourself from me, it happened when you found me with your diary, and it happened again right after you turned me.”

“I won’t apologize for what I said after you turned me. I stand by all that. I’m allowed to be frustrated and angry at the world. But I am sorry that I took that frustration out on you. That wasn’t fair of me.” You can feel yourself growing more and more impassioned the longer you speak, so you try to tamper yourself down to a calmer level. 

“I promise that I am going to do better at listening to you Astarion, but I need you to promise me that you will do the same. I need to see changes,” you implore. “I feel like I have made it perfectly clear by now, but let me be overly explicit for a final time- I don’t like when you make my decisions for me. I know that it is supposed to be my place as a woman to defer to your judgment, but frankly, I think that’s stupid.” 

The corner of Astarion’s mouth tilts up in a grin- he always did love your pluckiness. 

You feel a phantom heart beating in your chest as you continue speaking. “I have a mind and a will of my own and it is unfair to make me do things that I don’t want to do. A part of me will always be sad that I wasn’t able to enter into our marriage or choose to be a vampire of my own free will. I don’t want my memories of you to be tainted by that. I value and respect your opinion, but please, trust me to be the one to make my own choices from now on.” 

“And lastly, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You look up to the ceiling, trying to force down the tears that you feel brimming in your eyes. This was the part of your speech you had been dreading the most, the part that you had not rehearsed with Shadowheart because it felt too personal. But if you had ever inadvertently contributed to Astarion’s pain by being too forward in your intimacy, you needed to apologize to him. “It’s not a valid excuse but I didn’t know about your past, Astarion. You have to believe me. I know that I probably pressured you into uncomfortable situations because I was so insistent. Please know that there will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I truly am.”

“And… I miss you, Star. I can’t tell you how many times I've reread the note at the beginning of the book you gave me. I think I practically have it memorized at this point.” You breathe out a shaky laugh. “Okay, that’s… I think that’s everything I wanted to say.”

You pull your gaze back down from the ceiling to gauge Astarion’s reaction. He just looks stunned. Which is fair, you did just dump a lot on him. 

And then Astarion just keeps staring at you, like you have broken his brain completely. The longer you wait, the more nervous you get and eventually, you have to close your eyes, terrified of the rejection that you are certain is coming. You can feel yourself start to panic a bit as you prepare for Astarion to tell you to get out and how could he ever love someone as weak and stupid as you?

Instead, you feel his arms wrapping around you. You cling to him, burying your face in his chest and letting the tears that had been building finally leak out.

He’s so much warmer than you remember. 

Astarion tilts your chin up so he can look at you and he brushes away the tears that have fallen down your cheeks.

“I don’t know where to start,” Astarion says, at a loss for words. He gives you a sweet smile. “For what it’s worth, I already forgave you long ago for reading my diary.”

The crushing weight that had been sitting on your chest for so long finally lessens. You feel so light now that you can breathe again.

Astarion’s thumb continues tracing along your cheek and his eyes watch the motion, rather than stare into your own. You are too familiar with the fact that it can be easier to get your feelings out without the pressure of eye contact. 

“I see now that I was wrong, too. I’m sorry that I didn’t fully trust you. It’s just-” Astarion huffs and his brow furrows, “How do I explain this? You saw me as the man I am now, detached from all my trauma and background, and you loved that person. And for so long, I was scared that if I admitted my past to you, you would no longer see me as the man you knew and loved. I didn’t want to ruin the illusion for you. I realize now that I was mistaken.”

You’re stunned, partially because Astarion just admitted he was wrong and that was a minor miracle in itself. But also, you had never considered that Astarion might have been afraid that his past would make you see him differently. 

And you do, but not in any way that matters. He just feels like a more complete person now. All those little reactions and details you could never place finally make sense. 

Astarion wipes away another stray tear rolling down your cheek. “And I need you to trust me, little flower. I need you to hear me when I say that I love you and I want you. I like having sex with you. Believe me, I don’t do anything that I don’t want to anymore. I’m past that point in my life.”

And with his words, Astarion continues to quell any shadows or doubts in your mind. It feels wonderful to finally speak so freely with each other. 

“And now, it’s my turn to apologize,” he says. “You’re right. I haven’t been listening to you. Throughout our whole marriage, you’ve basically been shouting from the rooftops that all you wanted was to make your own choices and I kept making them for you in fear that you might choose to leave me. That’s not fair of me, either- I need to trust that if you love me as much as you say that you will choose me.”

Astarion pauses, sighing gently, “And I’m sorry for the circumstances surrounding your death but I won’t apologize for the outcome. You know that I am a deeply selfish man. I wasn’t going to lose you- not now and not ever. I will not apologize for what is done, only that my actions have caused you pain. I know nothing I can say will make this… right. And it probably wouldn’t help you feel better, anyway. But know that I am here with you, every step of the way; as a mentor, as a friend, as a lover. However you want me, you have me.”

“What about as a husband?” You tease. 

“Well, that can certainly be arranged,” Astarion says as a devilish grin splits across his face.

“I love you,” you tell him. “Thank you for waiting for me. Ever since you caught me with your diary, all I’ve wanted is to go back to how it was before.”

“I don’t think we ever will be able to go back to how it was before,” Astarion says, and his words fill you with a deep sadness. Your face falls but Astarion is still smiling. A real one, not a performative one. “It will be better this time; we’ll be true equals.”

“Equals. I like that.” You smile back at him. His knuckles stroke lovingly along your jaw.

“And now I should probably tell you that I actually kind of like that you get a bit nasty when you’re angry,” Astarion says with one of those smirks that makes you want to get into all sorts of trouble with him. “Maybe just direct that at other people in the future.”

You laugh. “Just point and I shall destroy your enemies with my vicious mockery.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, please.” He giggles in delight. “That sounds wonderfully entertaining.”

And it feels so good now that everything is out in the open. Like you and Astarion are truly seeing each other for the first time as you embrace, grinning like love-struck fools. 

“How have you been?” Astarion interrupts the moment, his voice turning more serious. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”

“Um, it could be worse, I guess? I could be dead.”

Astarion frowns at your joke. Note to self- don’t joke about your death with Astarion. 

But you’re not sure how exactly to explain the fog that it feels like you’ve been trapped in for the past… Actually, you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve been turned. You lost track of time. Has it been weeks? Months? 

Now doesn’t feel like the time to unload all that on Astarion. You had just gotten him back, you weren’t about to go chasing him away again with new issues. You would wait until later. Maybe even bringing it up as you cuddle in bed so you do not have to watch how his pretty face twists with worry at your confession.

You deflect by turning the attention back to him. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for me. You must have been pretty busy trying to get all that blood for me.”

For a moment, Astarion looks like he wants to pry into what’s on your mind, but he resists. It was time to trust each other and that involved having faith that the other person would bring up issues when the time felt right for them. 

“Ugh, you don’t even know, pet. It’s more work than I’ve done in years,” Astarion complains. “I have to think about what I want and then go and ask Gale for it and that always takes forever. I was made for looking pretty, not for organizing blood draws.”

You giggle at his theatrics. “Well, if you’re going to be so dramatic about it, I’ll go offer my thanks to Gale instead.”

You move to pull away from Astarion but he catches your wrist and pulls you tighter against his chest.

“Don’t you dare.”

Is this Astarion initiating?

He’s looking at you with hungry, red eyes and the way his hand rests just a bit too low on your back isn’t entirely innocent. 

You chew on your lip, debating in your mind whether you should just lean forward and kiss Astarion. You haven’t fully adjusted to the new sharp fangs inside your mouth and you found yourself forgetting them constantly. You let out a little hiss at your mistake and your finger comes up instinctually to dab away the bead of blood from your lip. 

You stare at the drop on your finger, entranced, former train of thought completely lost. The room fades away and for a moment, there’s only blood. 

And then, Astarion reaches out to grab your wrist and he sucks your finger into his mouth with a moan that should send him straight to the hells. Your brain goes blank, yet again, as you watch how he slides your finger out his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you. 

Your whole body feels like a live wire. Reaching out, you tug Astarion down by the back of his neck to press your lips against his. You had been without him for so long and now, you’re ravenous. 

This isn’t one of those sweet, loving kisses that you and Astarion share so often. There is nothing loving about this kiss- only hunger. As if you can make up for lost time by consuming one another whole. 

Your lips crash against his, two sets of fangs ripping and tearing into one another’s skin. There’s blood everywhere- coating your lips and electrifying your taste buds and trickling down your chin. 

And just for a second, you hesitate. Did he want this? You hadn’t checked. You had pulled him down and kissed him and, sure, he had kissed you back, but that doesn’t mean he wants more. Despite his words earlier ensuring you that he enjoys physical intimacy with you, your doubts are still present. You aren’t sure how to act anymore. 

Astarion, sensing your moment of hesitation, pulls away immediately.

His voice is low and hoarse. “What’s wrong?”

You try to find the right words. “I just- I’m sorry. I should have asked. Did you want me to kiss you?”

Astarion chuckles. “I always want you to kiss me. But please, no doubts, my love. I promise I’ll tell you if I don’t want to do something. But this-” His hand traces along the curve of your ass as he moves his lips down to brush against yours, “this is me initiating. Trust me, I’m nearly out of my mind with how badly I want you.”

His words send a shock straight to your cunt. 

“Get back here, then,” you practically growl, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt.

Your lips collide again and the world closes in around you- there is nothing but you and Astarion and this impossible need to be closer. You can’t think past the hunger itching at the back of your throat and the molten fire pooling in your cunt. 

You urge Astarion backward until his back is pressed against the bookshelf. You must overestimate your own vampiric strength because a few books are knocked off the shelf and Astarion lets out a little exhale of ‘oof.’

“Sorry,” you apologize into his mouth, not bothering to fully separate your lips from his. 

“Don’t be, pet,” he says in a breathy pant. “I like when you lose control.”

Fuck, you need to lose control more often if it makes Astarion talk like that.

Your hands move down, untucking Astarion’s shirt from his trousers and you ghost your fingers over his abdomen. It’s still shocking how warm his skin feels now that you have become a vampire. You had grown so used to the cold. 

Astarion separates his lips from yours only long enough to pull his shirt up over his head and throw it somewhere in the room. 

There are hands everywhere. Your hands move down the planes of Astarion’s chest, continuing downward to trace over the outline of his cock hardening in his pants. And his hands pull you so tightly against him- one follows the curves of your body and the other comes up to thread through your hair. He gently tugs at the roots, tilting your head back to give himself easier access to lick into your mouth. 

Eventually, you part from his lips and they’re all swollen and bloody and wet. His beauty will always stun you.

Gods, and how does he smell even better now? 

You run your nose along the column of his throat. There’s bergamot and rosemary and underneath that, the intoxicating scent of the blood sitting still in his veins. He must have fed recently. You can’t even bother to be jealous that someone else got to experience the ecstasy of Astarion drinking from them because he smells so good.

“Go on, little love. You can have a taste,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. He’s a bit breathless, as if he can’t contain his excitement at the idea. 

You take his permission and bite into Astarion’s skin, careful to pick a spot far away from the twin scars on his neck. This was meant to be a new memory, separated literally and metaphorically from the struggles of his past. 

His blood is so fresh after so much time of only drinking blood from the jars stored in the cellars. Astarion lets you swallow a few mouthfuls before he guides you back up, crashing his mouth against yours again and chasing after the taste of himself in your mouth. 

Astarion continues kissing you, but he presses forward, forcing you backward until your back hits the edge of his desk. You raise your hips to sit at the edge, widening your legs so he can slide between them. 

He fiddles with the buttons on the back of your dress while he continues to kiss you senseless and you sigh into his mouth, picturing his wonderful hands at work.

“There’s too many-” Astarion cuts himself off with a growl and you hear a sharp ripping noise as he tears open the back of your dress. “Too many buttons.”

“I liked this dress,” you huff and Astarion leans down to press a kiss to your collarbone in apology as he begins bunching up your skirts. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he says, as he helps pull your dress over your head. He presses his lips to yours again, slow and sweet and a complete shift in tone. He leans his forehead against yours, “I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. You’ll appreciate it more later when you can think clearly again. 

Taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Astarion before you, you try to commit this moment to memory. You try to memorize the way that the rivulets of blood running down his chin highlight the lovely blush staining his cheeks.

And over his shoulder, you notice that the door is still wide open. 

“The door’s still open,” you squeak out. You don’t love the idea of someone barging in on you and Astarion’s private moment, but you hate the idea of parting from him long enough for one of you to shut the door more. 

Astarion must have a similar thought because he chuckles, deep and dark, as his hands grip the back of your neck, pulling your gaze back to his face. His thumb runs down the hollow of your throat and you feel yourself gulp. Astarion watches your throat move, entranced. “They all know better than to interrupt us. And if they don’t… Well, I wouldn’t say no to a snack, would you?”

The idea of draining someone dry with Astarion makes you salivate. Something to look forward to in the future. 

Astarion kisses you again, pushing you to lean back at an angle on the desk and distracting you from the lovely images that you had concocted in your imagination. His mouth moves down to nip at your skin and kiss along your collarbones.  

“You still have to get past my corset,” you tease. “Can’t rip your way through that one.” 

“I can try,” he practically growls, one of his hands coming up to trace menacingly along the boned seams. 

“Don’t,” you grip his chin and turn his gaze up to yours. His eyes light up at your command. 

Astarion listens and helps you remove the rest of your clothing. Miraculously, your corset and chemise make it off your body without being destroyed like your poor dress.

The cool wood of his desk against your bare skin makes you shiver but you’re quickly distracted when Astarion brings your wrist to his mouth. His eyes lock onto yours and he presses a kiss to your skin before his teeth sink in. You had missed that rush of coldness when he first bites that sends electricity shooting through your veins and it’s almost obscene as you watch him. He drinks from you slowly and sensually and his eyes burn into you the whole time.

As he drops your wrist, a fresh streak of ruby red runs down his chin and you lean forward to lick it up, greedily pressing your mouth against his again. 

You fumble with the buttons on his trousers, pushing them down so you’re able to free the hard length of his cock and wrap your hand around it. He groans as you pump your hand up and down his length.

“Missed you being inside me,” you whisper. “Missed how good you fuck me.”

“Then what are you waiting for, pet? Take what you want.”

You guide him into you and he lets you adjust for a moment before his hips are snapping against yours at a ruthless pace that betrays his desperation.

You had missed this- this closeness, this feeling of being whole and one and loved.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Astarion promises, and he grabs the back of one of your thighs, lifting your leg up to wrap around his waist. It has him hitting that much deeper inside you with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes practically roll back in your head.

Astarion brings his lips down to ghost against yours before he teasingly pulls away. “Look at us. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

You moan at his words, losing yourself in the sentiment and the feeling of Astarion moving inside you. Just him and you, like how it was meant to be. He is yours and you are his. 

“Say it,” he commands, pulling your attention back to him. It sends a lovely shiver down your spine. You’d do anything he asked if he kept talking to you in that rough, low voice. 

“Yours. Only yours,” you breathe into his mouth, chasing after his lips. He gives you a gentle tug on your hair that pulls you back so that your lips are still just a hair’s breadth away from his. 

“And I’m yours,” he says, before he finally kisses you.

And Astarion’s hands are everywhere. As if he is determined to memorize your body by touch alone. It makes you smile. Touching. Always touching. You doubt that Astarion will ever let you out of his grasp again. Nor would you want him to.

The way he fucks you somehow feels even better, even more wonderful now as a vampire. All your senses are tingling and hyper-alert and it only serves to make you that much more aware of how Astarion feels pressed against you and how he moves inside you.

It’s carnal, it’s feral, it’s utterly vampiric. 

His hand reaches down between your bodies, his magical fingers moving against your clit in a way that sends sparks through your cunt. It has you reaching the precipice far sooner than you had hoped. That aching desire pools low in your stomach, rising into an inferno. 

You come and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Every nerve ending in your body is molten fire.

“So tight, so good,” he pants against your mouth. You whine at the way his hips keep driving into you at a pace which feels so good it’s almost painful. “Can you come for me again, little flower?”

Oh, this man was going to the death of you, wasn’t he? You nod frantically, unable to form words. Astarion presses open mouth kisses along your throat before he’s biting down again. The sudden shock of cold has you gasping for air and digging your nails into Astarion’s skin. You feel that coil tightening deep within you again, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Astarion keeps moving his fingers against your clit. 

You come.

Astarion manages a few more frenzied thrusts before he comes, too, spilling inside you.

And thank the gods you’re already dead because that second orgasm might have just stopped your heart entirely. 

You’re just coming back to your senses when you Astarion sinks to his knees in front of you, lifting your legs over his shoulders. He’s staring at your cunt like it’s a four-course meal and you eventually have to tug at his beautiful white curls to pull his attention back to you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You’re dripping all over my expensive desk,” Astarion says. “I’m going to clean you up.” 

Your brain is already a bit slow after two overwhelming orgasms and the sight of Astarion on his knees before you, offering to lick away the traces of his come leaking out of you, has you practically feral with lust. Astarion squirms under your gaze the longer you continue to stare down at him, his confident facade dropping. 

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You sigh out a breathy ‘yes’ and he’s back to smirking arrogantly at you. Astarion’s arms wrap around you so he can shift your hips to the very edge of his desk. 

He devours your cunt. His tongue is everywhere- lapping at your inner folds and dipping deliciously inside you. You lean back on your hands to steady yourself, but that does little to help when Astarion moves to suck on your clit and your whole body trembles with ecstasy. 

You aren’t entirely sure how this is helping to ‘clean you up.’ It seems much more likely that Astarion got distracted by all the noises that you are surely making and is trying to drag this out into some sort of religious experience. 

“One more, please,” he practically begs, like it’s some big favor to him that you should orgasm another time. His chin is glistening with your wetness and he sounds practically breathless. “You’ve no idea how badly I missed watching you come.”

His words send another spark of heat straight to your cunt and you let out a surprised, strangled whimper. Astarion’s mouth quirks up in a haughty grin, so you simply reach out to tug his head back toward your cunt.

You feel Astarion’s laugh before he begins feasting on you again, sucking and licking and rolling his tongue in some unholy way that has you seeing stars. 

For a moment, there is nothing but the white-hot waves of pleasure that roll through you as Astarion coaxes yet another orgasm from your body. 

His mouth continues moving against you until you are shaking. He presses gentle kisses to the inside of each of your thighs before gently lowering them from where they sit on his shoulders and the small, caring act brings a goofy grin to your face.

How is it possible to love someone more with every passing moment?

Astarion surges back up to press a final kiss to your lips. It’s slow and deep and you can taste the combined taste of your releases on his tongue. Astarion gently traces down the column of your throat with his thumb, over the spot where he had bitten you just a few moments ago. You can tell your skin is already healed. 

“No more marks.” He looks genuinely forlorn. “A pity.”

“I’ll always have this one,” you remind him, holding up your wrist. Astarion brushes his fingers over the twin bite marks on the inside of your wrist from when he had turned you. 

You watch him study the marks and you wish you could hear what he was thinking.

“Speaking of which,” Astarion finally breaks the silence. He leans over you to pull open a drawer in his desk, shuffling around in it blindly. He gives a satisfied little smirk when he finds whatever he was looking for. 

“You might want this back,” he says. When he opens his hand, your wedding ring is sitting on his palm. 

“Give me that.” You feel the smile light up your face as you snatch the ring from him and place it back on your ring finger. “Are you still wearing yours?”

“Never took it off.” Astarion proudly displays his left hand as proof. Sure enough, the gold band glints enchantingly when it catches the candlelight. 

“I love you,” you tell Astarion. 

The way he’s looking at you can only be described as awe. He catches your hand and brings it to his mouth so he can press a lingering kiss to the spot where the ring now sits comfortably on your finger, once again.

“I love you, too.”

Somehow, you manage to smile even wider.  

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

Notes:

So next week, we wrap up the plot (since we still have that pesky Crown of Karsus hanging around) and then the final chapter is the epilogue. I'm actually kind of happy that I decided to move things around a bit because now I get to add in an extra smut scene that I was originally planning as a fade to black since the epilogue was getting too long.

I loved seeing everyone's reactions to last week's chapter! Can't wait to see what you all think as we start wrapping this bad boy up!

As always, huge thanks to my beta-writer AliensNSuch on ao3.

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

[midnightlazule]

{NSFW} Pegging [Sanji x AFAB!reader] (2023 KT)

Summary | After waiting weeks for your order to come in, it finally does! And Sanji doesn’t seem super stoked about it.

CW | AFAB reader / pegging / anal sex / Sanji is a sub / usage of 'good boy'

It was midday when your order showed up on the doorstep, overly giddy you wasted no time getting your hands on the package. Fingers practically digging into the cardboard while you kicked the door shut behind you.

Setting it on the table, you were quick to get your nails under the tape, tearing it off as you ripped the box apart like a rabid animal. And there it was, in all it's glory.

The strap on you had bought to surprise your lover, one who had 'joked' about you using one a time or two. Even though he swore up and down that he wasn't interested in that kind of stuff.

It took quite a while for it to arrive, about three or so weeks. Much longer than you had anticipated, but oh well, it was here now. You made quick effort of tearing it out of the package it came in, feeling the fabric of the harness you hummed. The fabric wasn't too rough, at least not rough enough to cause irritation to the skin.

Setting the harness down you looked at the three separate sized dildos that came with it, they looked exactly like your usual realistic dildo.

"Honey?" Sanji's voice echoed from the hallway that led to your shared bedroom, seeing the blonde man poke his head out, his blue eyes immediately landed on the dildo you were holding. A smirk graced his lips, "another one? You have plenty already yeah?" He wasn't keen on you spending so much money on toys, he wasn't against them, not at all.

They were just expensive.

"Not for me" you winked at him, your eyes sparkling, "for you" picking up the harness you swung it from your fingers, watching Sanji's face drop you chuckled. "It comes with three different sizes, I figured we could use the smallest one tonight?" you said, though it sounded more like a question.

"Tonight..?" his voice cracked, eyes switching from the dildo up to your eyes, it seemed like he didn't believe you. That you had just decided to buy a strap-on out of the blue for shits and giggles. "Yes, tonight" you smiled, clearly serious about using it.

Sanji gulped, it wasn't that he was against the idea, it was the fact that he's never had anything that big up the ass before. He had no idea how this was supposed to feel. Sure he's been fingered by you, even going as far as to put smaller butt-plugs inside of him. But never a full blown dildo, and getting fucked by it no less.

"I'll be gentle and slow, if it hurts we can stop" you said, seemingly feeling his anxiety towards this whole idea. "And I'll use plenty of lube" a small laugh left your lips, "don't worry, I'm sure you'll enjoy it, yeah?" you tried encouraging him.

"Alright, as long as if I get to try something new on you the next time we have sex.." he said, crossing his arms, "deal" you smiled.

-----

The room had dimmed lights, and the air was practically buzzing. Sanji was laying on his stomach, completely bare and shaking from the anticipation. He was nervous, but he wasn't going to back down. Not if this was something you wanted.

His gaze remained on you as you put on the harness, tightening the straps comfortably around your waist and thighs. He had sucked in a breath when you turned around, showing off how the straps lay right under your ass, making it more pronounced.

Grabbing the smallest size dildo off the bedside table, you slipped it into the O-ring that was strapped to the middle of the harness. A small laugh leaving your lips as you messed with it, the unfamiliar weight around your pelvic area was amusing.

Sitting down on the bed, you ran your hands up Sanjis leg, "remember to let me know if it hurts, I'll stop right away, okay?" you leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on his temple. Reaching over you grabbed the bottle of lube sitting on your bedside table. Squirting a little in your hand, you figured the best way to go about this was working him up to the dildo.

Smearing the lube across your hand, you motioned for Sanji to get on his knees so you had better access. Propping himself up, you drug your slick fingers across his asshole, earning a slight jump from him.

"Shh, it's alright, I know it's cold, sorry" you apologized, index finger tracing over his hole teasingly. You pushed at the entrance, finger not quite entering you enjoyed the little whimpers you earned from teasing him. Torturing him with this for a minute or two you wasted no time slipping a finger inside of him.

He flinched, not expecting the sudden entry, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder, he watched you with his blue eyes. Your own eyes were lidded, enjoying this a little too much as you fingered your lover and prepped him for your fake dick. Sanjis own cock twitched and pulsed, leaking pre-cum onto the towels.

Fucking him slow with your finger, you soon added another one and watched as he gripped the bedsheets a little harder. "Fuck, doing so well.." you praised him, enjoying the whines and moans that thrummed in his throat. You felt him clench around you, knowing he was a sucker for praise you smiled, "think you can take another?" you asked, it had been awhile since you last fingered him with three digits.

He nodded his head, looking back at you but not bothering to give any verbal confirmation. Slowly pushing in a third finger, you struggled slightly to accommodate the extra pressure, but earned a rather loud groan from Sanji. Curling your fingers over that spot once again you felt him flinch and clench around your fingers, you must've hit his sweet spot.

A string of whimpers left his lips at the feeling of you abusing that spot, fingers grazing over it time and time again. A deep chuckle sounded in your throat, "I think you're ready" you smiled, slipping your fingers out of him. Grabbing the bottle of lube, you slicked up the dildo, the lewd squelching noise filled the room as you practically jerked it off.

Sanji's hole was already slick from the lube on your fingers, clenching over nothing and just begging to be fucked. Not wanting to wait any longer, you positioned yourself and slowly entered him. You could feel his muscles tense, causing you to enter a little slower as to not hurt him. His breath caught in his throat as you pushed forward, a deep shudder ran through his body as your hips finally connected with his.

Grasping his hips for support, you heard him exhale hard through his nose. "You okay?" You whispered softly, nodding he motioned for you to continue. Rolling your hips into him, you leaned forwards a little, relishing the moans that ripped free from Sanji's throat.

He was beginning to enjoy himself, though hints of pain bled through each noise he made. You began to set a rather harsh rhythm, hips pulling back and snapping forwards, your

He was beginning to enjoy himself, though each noise of his held a hint of pain. Speeding up, you started to buck into him, setting a rather harsh pace. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bed sheets, lewd gasps and moans flooded the room, "A..Ah! Nngh... fuck! Don't... don't stop!" his breathless moans caused heat to travel to your crotch.

The heat between the two of you was rising, sweat forming on the both of you as you rutted into him. Your own muscles burned as you thrusted into him, this was harder work than you had initially thought. Sanji's moans were beginning to grow desperate, the sounds of the bed creaking was completely drowned out.

Leaning forward, you suddenly grabbed a fist full of Sanji's hair, earning a surprised moan from him. "Turn your head towards me, I wanna see the faces you make", he obeyed, turning his head as far as he could while you tugged on his blonde locks. "Good boy" you grinned, watching as he enjoyed the praise.

Removing your hand from his hair, you reached down to his cock, grabbing it. A guttural moan left Sanji's lips, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you started to jerk him off. His cock was rock hard, twitching against your hand. You never stopped your rough pace, continuing to pound into him as you smeared his pre-cum all over his cock, using it as lube.

"F-fuck..." He groaned, having troubles keeping his head up. His face was completely flushed, shameless lust filled groans left his lips. You could watch his expressions forever, drinking in the way his face contorted and mouth opened as he gasped and moaned.

Re-positioning your hips, you rocked into him, hitting a point inside of him. His eyes fluttered shut, no longer having the strength to hold his head up he slumped back down onto the pillow. His moans were muffled, but grew increasingly louder as you kept hitting the same spot.

Your hand moved mover rapidly over his cock, fingers rolling over his tip with extra care. Sanji's moans grew broken, body shaking as he curled his toes. Arching his back he turned his head best he could to look back at you. His eyebrows were knitted, face flush and lips swollen.

"I'm close- fuck!" A deep guttural groan left his throat, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he released onto your hand and towels that lay below him. For a few moments, the only sounds were both of your labored breathing as he came down from his high. His breathing hitched as you pulled out of him, loosening the harness and pulling it off you set it aside.

"Sanji?" You sat next to him, "come on honey, get up so we can get you in the shower" placing a hand on his back, you ignored the feeling of his sweat sticking to your hands. Had he fallen asleep? You figured so.

Grabbing the towels that were on the bed, you threw them into the laundry basket and grabbed a fresh one. Returning to him you found him standing, still trying to catch his breath. "Are you alright?" you asked softly, placing a hand on his chest as you gazed up at his face.

He looked down at you with tired eyes, "'m fine, just.. tired" he chuckled, "lets go take that shower" placing a hand over yours, he attempted to smile before a yawn caught him.

"A shower and then bed" you patted his shoulder, walking with him to the bathroom.

Tonight was lovely, you only hoped he'd allow you to do it again.

[judasgot-it]

dazai seems to go after women who don’t fall for him easily; what if you did a reader who didn’t really care or be affected by his romantic advances?

oooooo rip Dazai would 100% go CRAZY bro. I don't do yandere but lowkey Dazai would be a bit of a yandere in this case...

Scenario: Dazai getting rejected by reader constantly (Trigger warnings for Dazai's alcoholism and addiction, also for other depression mentions)

The known flirt was at it again.

You knew his name - he insisted on making you ring up his order every time he came to your store every day. It was innocent enough really. You didn't even notice it, since he was so easy to be drawn into a conversation with, and you wouldn't lie when he asked if you thought he was cute.

He was, especially compared to some of the older men you've seen come in, those who would buy cigarettes and alcohol at odd hours of the night. A real shame that he was just as bad as them once you saw him come by time and time again.

The man would buy the cheapest alcohol and some of the cheapest foods, occasionally splurging on some 'nice' sweets - only if he was with seemingly young coworkers of his. At least he was nice in that aspect, not forcing children to pay for themselves whenever he was out shopping for his assumedly drunken nights.

A part of you wished that you could feel attracted to him. He was really charming when he wanted to be.

But his shopping habits disturbed you.

What man, in his early 20s and living assumedly alone, needed to buy so many different medications? You weren't one to judge, but he was just extremely strange.

He might not have realized it either, but you worked day and night shifts at that store - you saw him when he was at his worst buying pre-packed sushi, and you've never seen a man appear more...haggard.

So maybe it was hard to find him attractive when he was put together for work the next day. He might have looked nice, smelling of a strange cologne, but you could never get the picture of him in his slacks, with sweat stains on his shirt, tearing open his pre-packaged sushi like a rabid anime out of the mental movie you held.

He was like the babadook.

It disturbed you deeply.

"Well, good morning my belladonna! Tell me, do you think this wouldn't make just a lovely hour to feel our entangled hands grow cold together? Watching the rising sun fall upon our corpses?"

More than that, somehow.

How did he ever lose his virginity when he flirted like that? You wished you could ask him that one day.

"Let me ring you up, Dazai."

Your boss would kill you if she ever learned that you were rude to customers. Unfortunately, Dazai was just another customer you would have to put up with. His words would simply have to roll off of you.

"You know Ms. y/n, I really wish we could see each other more often, without a counter between us. I know this really great place that serves excellent coffee."

"Better than what you bought?"

Dazai laughed that comment off.

"Oh, you're funny Y/n. They have a little secret about how they keep their coffee so fresh, I'm quite close with the owners you know?"

You just shook your head, placing his items in a bag. He had bought bulk coffee grains and...canned crab? You didn't want to know why he ate that.

"Your total is 9.35, congrats. Cash or card?"

Dazai took his careful time taking out his wallet, leaning onto the counter, and taking up as much of your personal space as he could. He took out his card and not so subtly looked at you as he inserted it into the card reader.

"Y/n, you should really think about my offer. It would be quite sweet, don't you think?"

"Coffee or the suicide?"

Dazai laughed again - his weird wet laugh, the one that made you feel like you were talking with some sort of deranged serial killer. He gave off the vibe. There was something he was hiding in his smile.

His bandages hid something, which you frankly didn't want to know more about.

"Whichever works, I like how your misery feels. It makes me feel less alone in my own."

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. They were empty, dark holes that stared right into you, leaving you exposed. His smile was vacant as well, watching with interest as you absorbed whatever he was. There were many words you wished you could say, but your work cameras were watching this transaction carefully.

"That's nice. I hope you have a good day."

You turned away from him, signaling that the transaction was over.

There was no one else in the store but the two of you, not even the sunlight.

Just you, him, and the silence.

Dazai gleefully reached over, taking his bag into his arms and pressing his body into the counter, leaning his face as close to yours as he could. You could feel his laughs against the low collar of your shirt - his dark eyes as they slowly traced up your form, which still looked right through your body.

He was invading through something deeper, and you wished you could put up some sort of barrier. Crossing your arms over your body did little to ease you as you tried to play him off, trying to give him as little of a reaction as he wanted.

Dazai wasn't a pervert, he wasn't a creep - he was something else.

He wanted something else from you.

It had you on edge. You didn't even know how to stop him from eating that part of you, swallowing you into whatever abyss he was.

That man was human, but every time he came close he made you want to run.

But despite being so close to you, he didn't say anything. No leering comments, no threats.

You heard him leave, which was when you finally had the courage to look at where he last stood.

He didn't even leave anything in his wake.

Nothing to truly disturb you, at the very least.

Just a daisy, which you were sure he had kept in his pocket this entire time.

He was odd like that. The guy always tried to keep his moments elaborate, so he would stick in your head for days.

Unfortunately, it worked. No matter how much you tried to ignore him.

I have no idea if this is actually the prompt haha but I like the idea of Dazai not being like a full-on yandere even though that's kinda canon? But him being like a real freak. Also oml thank you for being so patient cause this was in my ask box forever! and I still have more!

[tobyislame]

general eyeless jack headcanons

ik i literally just said this will be an exclusively ticci toby blog but u guys get one (1) ej post as a treat bc i have a biiiiig phat crush on him

- he has a strong distaste for his given name. constantly being referred to as "eyeless" just feels like twisting the knife. so, he really appreciates it when people shorten it to ej. he prefers to just be called jack, though.

- he has black blood. does that subsequently mean his blush would be black?? idk i’m thinking maybe it shows up on his skin as like a dark bluish-purple, kinda like a bruise but… he’s blushing.

- he's got a nice set of large, pointed teeth. when he speaks those chompers are on FULL display, so if he happens to have his mask off, he’ll mumble to try to keep them as concealed as he can.

- what used to be fingernails are now blackened, talon-like claws, which will rip through everything if he isn’t careful. with enough concentration, he can keep them folded down to make them less obtrusive, at least enough to get dressed without making his clothes all… holey.

- that being said… he has no control over his claws when he’s asleep. his sheets are absolutely shredded, pillowcases torn through. they’re also perpetually stained with his eye goop. he's learned to just not bother with patching up his sheets anymore.

- he is LARGE. he is a LARGE MANTHING. he's 8'2 and well aware that he towers over most because people won't shut the fuck up about it. he's also just stocky, with big burly shoulders and enormous hands and man he is just BIG.

- despite his size, he moves quietly and swiftly. he carries himself like he's much smaller than he actually is.

- he isn't really aware of his own strength — he still surprises himself with the damage that he can unintentionally administer. he finds himself having to make a conscious effort to hold back.

- he's completely blind. the way that he “sees” is similar to snakes — utilizing infrared sensors which lie somewhere in those eye sockets of his (eldritch being rules it doesn’t have to make sense), he can sense the heat given off by objects in his environment. this becomes especially useful when tracking down potential victims. somewhere along the line, he learned or “evolved” to use echolocation as well, gaining the ability to make the same sonar clicks that bats do to make their way through the world. these can’t be heard by human ears, but if you’re close enough, they can be felt in your teeth.

- also similar to snakes, he’s cold-blooded. just absolutely cold to the touch. he wears warm clothes all year round, even in summer. he should be sweltering in multiple layers in the middle of june, but really, he’s just fine.

- his senses have all evolved to compensate for his lack of sight. most sensitive of all, though, are his ears. he can identify individual footsteps from miles away. this makes it near impossible to get away with muttering something under your breath. even from across the entire house, he’d be able to hear what you said. (i am aware actual blind people don't have superhuman abilities i just think this is the way it'd present in an enigmatic being)

- his skin is thick, sort of like a rhino's. bullets essentially ricochet off of him, blades snap... this, however, doesn't make him invincible. high frequencies are a surefire way of disabling him.

- he feels hunger much more intensely than any normal person does. when he goes too long without eating he'll become rabid, driven by instinct alone. at that point, he isn’t himself anymore. his body isn’t his.

- in this condition, he'll take on more bestial qualities, sprouting (larger) claws, a second row of teeth, additional tongues... he also exhibits heightened strength, speed, and agility. he'll behave more like an animal than anything else, tunnel vision pointing to only one thing: eat. he does everything in his power to keep this at bay, because in the past… incidents have occurred. let’s just say you wouldn’t want to be caught in the same forest with that thing prowling around. he hates to hurt others when he doesn’t mean/need to, especially since all he can do in those moments is helplessly watch behind the eyes of something that isn’t him.

- he really isn't a killer. although he's lacking in the sympathy department, he has the ability to put himself in the shoes of others and feel what they feel, which is his biggest weakness — as you can probably imagine, being an empath isn't so convenient when you have to kill to survive. often, he feels the pain of those who have the misfortune of ending up beneath his scalpel. beneath his hands. he’s aware that he’s taking that person away from someone, and it hurts him. he just powers through.

- he couldn't eat human food even if he wanted to, and believe me, he wants to. it's just that, if he even makes an attempt, his body flat-out rejects and regurgitates it. think that one tokyo ghoul scene... basically like that. he seems to be able to ingest coffee and tea just fine, though. earl grey is his favorite. on rainy days, his favorite thing to do is brew a cup and sit on the steps to the front porch, listening to the drops plinking off puddles.

- he doesn't particularly like for anybody to see his face. would rather keep it to himself. he's not exactly sure what he looks like, but he can take an educated guess that it isn't pretty. he'll usually just keep his mask on when he's around others, only taking it off if it ever happens to be absolutely necessary. if someone were to take his mask from him, that’d probably be the closest he could get to his rabid state without fully submitting to it.

- when he’s angry (which seldom happens) the tar in his eyes seems to boil and pop, kind of like hot oil in a pan. if it happened to get on you, it’d fucking burn and begin to dissolve right through your skin in the same way acid would. stay out of the splash zone ig.

- he can cry, but the way it presents is similar to ghibli tears — thick, messy glops of black that stain his skin, clothes, and whatever else they happen to spill onto.

- he doesn't just eat kidneys, he tries to make use of the entire body. it’s the least he can do. he doesn’t want to just throw the rest out like it’s trash. even when they’re dead, dissected, splayed out, closer to meat than human, he tries to respect his victims. they were people once, too. just like him.

- he also tries to make harvesting from his victims as easy of a process as possible, for the both of them. he injects them with anesthesia, enough to kill, then uses surgical tools to make the job as quick and clean as possible. no screams. no thrashing. easy.

- he can't remember much of his past life. most of what he can recall are just bits and pieces of out-of-place memories, puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together no matter how hard he tries to make them. however, the one thing he was able to definitively grasp was his affinity for physiology, human anatomy, and surgery. because of this, he held onto it fucking tightly and devoted himself to it — just so he wouldn’t forget it, too.

- before, he was going to college to become a general surgeon. in fact, he was just about to move on to med school. now he's essentially the mansion's resident surgeon/doctor, and he does his job quite well given that he doesn’t have the resources most other medical professionals have at their disposal.

- he's especially interested in the medicinal qualities of plants. often, he'll go on nature walks in search of herbs that he can put to good use. he uses what he finds to make ointments and medicines and such, often utilizing his own resources in his procedures. in his room is a little garden of his own in the form of pots hanging from the ceiling, holding plants that he meticulously tends to with GREAT precision and care. he'd never trust anyone else to take care of them for him, not even for a day.

- he cannot stand disorganization, it drives him fucking insane. everything has to have a place, and everything has to stay in its place; it becomes difficult for him to find things, otherwise.

- if he can't rely on his sight, then he figures he can at least rely on his memory — it’s why he marks the position of his furniture and such with tape so that if anyone does happen to move something, they can at least put it back exactly where it was.

- messy people get on his nerves. leaving stuff in random places and on the floor is just incredibly inconvenient for him. he's tripped because of people's misplaced laundry and stuff.

- he's a man of few words and lacking in expression. often, a tilt of the head is the most he will react with. when he does speak, his voice is deep, so deep that it seems to vibrate. he keeps his voice soft and quiet, though, as if he's afraid of being too loud. and he is.

- since he doesn't speak much, he empties his thoughts into a journal. he'll write about anything: how his day was, what he did, how he feels, what all had happened in his surgery that day, the things he'd observed... although, if you look through it, ramshackle scraggles that almost resemble words litter the pages. he thinks he's writing words, and will continue to do so until it gets pointed out to him.

- a gentle giant. he's incredibly composed and docile, qualities that betray his physical attributes. he isn't "friendly", per se, but he tries to stay far away from hostility when it isn't needed.

- he has an overbearing need for control. he hates the thought that fate could rip everything out from underneath him whenever it pleases. it happened to him once before. he won’t let it happen again.

- he displays an... almost catlike vigilance. the slightest noise is enough to make his head snap towards the source. it's incredibly difficult to sneak up on him, especially since he hardly ever allows himself to drop his guard. he doesn’t like to be at the mercy of anyone or anything. a lot of his mental energy is put towards preventing bad things from happening to him.

- he can purr .

[suguru-getos]

Odd childe thirst but .. the thought of him masturbating while thinking of his beloved is cute. Whether it be solo or voyeurism is involved, thinking about this man trying to please himself while he can't fulfil his needs with you is 🥺

Alternatively he can't really finish what he started without you so he just gets rlly frustrated rip ripppp

HAHAHAHA yes yes yes!! 😈 Childe who is stationed in Liyue while his beloved baby is with his siblings all the way in Snezhnaya. He hates the idea of being alone without you… he hates it. He loves you too much, every single heartbeat of his screams your name. Childe can be poetic if needed, but can you blame him when it’s been a while and the slightest of things remind him of you? For example: Watching a girl dress up in your favorite color. He just remembers himself bringing you the same color lingerie so he could rip it off later— mind cloudy with the way your breasts spilled out of the clothing.

Now he has a boner, threatening him to the fullest as he sighs, finding the men’s washroom & fisting his cock in his hand, panting like a rabid, restless animal. All he has is the mere imagination of your tight cunt, spasming around his cock for more. “Fuck—” he growls, brows furrowed with the thought of shoving you against the bed face first, arching your back and pounding you from behind.

Lucky for him, you also accompanied Teucer on his way to Liyue to meet his big brother 😏

[lazywriter-artist]

Be still, Bleeding heart

Warhammer 40k writing practice + Oc lore

The guardsman froze, yanking their guns to a resting position they stared in confusion. The soldiers stared on in disbelief, they recoiled as their inquisitor in his hulking armor ripped a huge clawed hand forward, throwing one of the men aside who had been attacking one of the xenos.

“STAY BACK” he roared, falling to his knees as his huge armored hands lifted the small xenos pulling the shivering form close to his chest, heaving like a rabid animal. Silence fell over the soldiers, shock and horror at the inquisitor’s reaction. One they had never seen nor expected from him. He practically bristled with rage, palpable as he hunched over the xenos. Incomprehensible fear filled cries wailed from the xenos, at least incomprehensible to the guardsman that looked on, The large clawed gauntlet gently patted the back of the small xenos. Their inquisitor cooing back in that strange language, the men took yet another appalled step back.

“S-sir what are you-?” one man began with a brave step forward, Too far for the inquisitor it seemed.

“BACK AWAY!” he roared as he slammed his fist against the ground, pulling the whimpering xenos closer. He bore his teeth like a rabid animal. he looked pale, Sweat poured down from his head as he clasped the xenos tightly. He huffed and struggled to catch his breath as he again spoke in that strange language, the Xenos’ language, comforting the small shape. The inquisitor had been acting strange while they were cleaning out this Xenos vessel and now hugging and protecting one? their worry was growing.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The inquisitor and his men had boarded the t’au ship, it had invaded enemy space and as a member of the ordo xenos it had to be cleansed. Naturally all went as planned, Xenos soldiers set upon them as they boarded, though…something had felt off right away. The way the Xenos spoke was with…a strange distress he’d never heard before on military ships. They cried out something about evacuation, then some words he didn’t quite recognize or at least didn’t recall. Nevertheless, an inquisitor must naturally hold stead fast in the face of resistance. So he pressed on with his men- then it began. Unarmored xenos darted to and fro, some struggled to even hold their weapons- it disturbed the inquisitor. He again heard those words he didn’t recognize, it sent a chill up his spine. It felt- it felt familiar. He couldn’t place why but he didn’t like it, that’s when…it happened.

He rounded a corner, his restless and battle hungry men roaring with cheers at the ease this had provided. His eyes widened at the realization of what lied there. Several of those xenos soldiers loaded smaller shapes and xenos clinging even small little bundles into escape ships- his heart leapt out of his chest. There were civilians on the ship! He staggered backward as words caught in his throat, it all felt too familiar. His skin crawled as he felt himself begin to anxiously perspire, eyes darting all around as soldiers fell and a few unarmed fell. Luckily those already loaded into the Xenos’ saviour pods were able to escape before the bloodbath, but the few left were gunned down to Silverworth’s horror. He staggered forward as his eyes darted left and right, their cries filled his ears- any others. Any others he might not have cared- but unarmed and untrained civilians? It was slaughter. It was barbaric- it- it- it wrenched his heart. Staggering forward he hoarsely wheezed those agonizing words that had caught in his chest moments ago, then his eyes darted back down the hall. One of his soldiers was shouting, then he heard a xeno’s cry out, a lasgun fire and then the sound of a struggle!

In a flash, he rushed to the noise. His heavy armor clattered against the ships floor and walls as he moved with reckless abandon, startling the soldiers with him and the man wrestling the Xenos to the ground. Sure enough as he stomped forward he saw the poor shape, much smaller than the rest but certainly no baby. From his study likely a fully grown Xenos but not by much. It set flames in his mind, he saw red. Rage and painful memories soaked his thoughts as without thinking- THWAP the man was thrown aside with one fell swoop of the back of the inquisitor’s gauntlet.

“STAY BACK” he rumbled, the noises- the words he strung together burned in his throat and boiled in his chest like lava. Dropping down he scooped up the quivering shape in his arms as he tried to catch his breath, hugging tightly to the poor young xenos. Judging by the way the poor thing had barely put up a fight if it had any training it was minor and fresh. ‘Do not worry- they will not hurt you. I will not hurt you-‘ he crooned to the Xenos in its tongue, the T’au empire’s language was complex to some degree certainly but it had always felt so curious against his lips when he practiced it— a fact he dare utter to none, naturally— so it was a rather obvious choice for the language he wished to learn. The smaller shape seemed shocked at its own language ringing back at it from a humans lips, a human soldier leader no less. its lip quivered in fear as a large clawed hand patted their back.

A soldier stepped forward, eyes wide and filled with almost a feral look to them snapped back to the soldier “BACK AWAY” he snarled again, embarrassed to say he bore his teeth like some kind of feral animal- but in the moment he didn’t feel much but rage at the arrogant approach of the guardsman. He slammed his fist, a loud clang following, to let the man know he was serious. He could feel their stares but he didn’t care, his mind focused on the poor xenos, the poor shivering shape that he clung to. It…It reminded him of his son. The way the small child had clung to him as the little one had wailed for him. He could see it vividly now. He could see his son there, there in his grasp, shaking. Shaking and sobbing, begging for his father to ‘take away the pain, please!’ And his heart wrenched as he couldn’t. The blood that stained his shirt and his hands from his little boy’s wounds- it washed away his anger, that…sensation. It sunk its teeth into his heart and tore. Tore so harshly and violently he didn’t hear his men murmuring as tears began to roll down his face, shoulders jerking and breaths skipping as he sobbed. Even the Xenos now looked up at him with confusion as he hunched over their smaller shape, pressed them against his chest plate and sobbed.

This Xenos…he couldn’t allow it. Life so young, something so precious and new to this harsh galaxy. He couldn’t allow it. He had to- no. No, NEEDED to protect it…to protect them. Protect them with his own life, protect them with his last breath, with all his strength in his body- it didn’t matter. He has to protect this small…child.

Darling dividers by @squishyowl

[shiyorin]

The Imperium Shelter

Adoption Poster: Angron

Name: Angron (he refuses to answer to anything else)

Species: Primarch

Breed: World Eater

Age: Approximately 3 weeks (though he's been through a lot, so his physiology has aged faster than average.)

Background: Found this one half-starved and raging in the pits of Nuceria. Covered in scars and barking about some nonsense. Took a lot of tranquilizers just to get him home in one piece, let me tell you! His previous "owners" clearly abused him. Poor boy. Or so I suppose…

Anyway, we rescued Angron and have been rehabilitating him through positive reinforcement techniques (definitely no mood-altering neurotransmitter adjustments used, no sir!). No wonder he developed some, er, behavior issues. But with plenty of tender loving care and training, I'm sure he'll learn to curb those homicidal tendencies. I mean, normal primarch tendencies!

Personality: Angry would be an understatement. This one is pure rage walking! Snarls and lunges at anything that moves, frothing at the mouth like some rabid animals. Absolutely no social skills, nearly took my hand off just for trying to give him a treat! I'd be wary leaving small children unsupervised around him, if you catch my drift. Let's just say he takes "aggressive" to a whole new level.

But give him a chance to warm up to you, earn his trust, and I'm sure he'll calm down! Sure, he may try to bite your face off at first, but I promise once he gets used to you he'll stop seeing every interaction as a threat or challenge. Might take a few… I mean, a lot of training sessions. But he means well deep down, the poor dear just wants to be loved!

Skills: Surprisingly dexterous for one so enraged. Could probably handle advanced weaponry or driving vehicles if provoked, so keep an eye on the car keys for sure. He already knows basic commands like "attack," "kill," "Skull for the Skull Throne!" No, strike that, I have no idea where that came from! He's a quick learner regardless. Also seems preternaturally strong, literally ripped the bars off his cage on the first night! And could wrestle a grown man to the ground, break his spine with a chomp. Of course, he would never do that!

In summary, Angron is one angry boy with a lot of special needs. Strict owner only, with experience handling extreme cases. Lots of patience, training and muzzles required. Adoption not recommended for the faint of heart! But who could resist that underbite… He just needs the right home to reach his true potential as a war machine! I mean, loyal primarch. Who's a good boy?!

Signed,

The Emperor

(Angron tries to bite his hand as he says that last part)

Comments from the employees:

M*******: I wouldn't recommend adopting Angron. He tried to bite my arm off during feeding time.

Big E: Nonsense Malcador, I'm sure you were provoking him. Angron just wants love, you'll do fine!

V*****: With respect sir, Angron is dangerously unstable. He killed three of our security measures. Even with sedatives he's too risky. Perhaps a more seasoned professional handler could manage him, if anyone can.

Big E: Quit scaring people Valdor, he was just playing! Weren't you boy? Angron foams rabidly See, happy as a clam. Next!

O*******: I understand the desire to rehabilitate him sir, but adopting out Angron could endanger lives. For the safety of the public and his own well-being, long term confinement and treatment seem best.

Big E: No Ollanius. Angron just wants someone to show him love. I'm sure with the right owner he'll come around, won't you boy? Angron bites his pants leg Down boy! So what do you say, is he yours?

[inuhalfdemon]

Never Changes His Scars

Word Count = 577

Rating = Appropiate for All Audiences

Summary: A cute little one-shot of our beloved deer man and his adopted daughter

"Knowing those two...it's stupider than you think."

The night was growing late within the Hazbin Hotel. Taking care to not rip or tear at the fabric with his claws, Alastor undid the fastenings to his suit jacket. He removed his bowtie along with the monocle he wore; neatly placing them aside. Next, he slid out from his dress shirt. His upper torso was exposed completely to the dim light that glowed from candles and the various small lights he had twisted among the bones of animal skulls and skeletons that ordained his room. Taking the shirt and the jacket; he went to the closet and tasked himself with getting everything put away in an orderly fashion; softly humming to himself all the while.

Niffty busied herself among his room at the hotel, as well. She darted to and fro, smashing whatever unfortunate bug she found and straightening/un-straightening the frames of photos and mirrors about the place as was currently fitting her ever-flitting aesthetic. She initially paid no mind to Alastor’s undressing, having seen his smokey, scar-covered skin before.

But, then paused. During her recent cleaning, she had come across a small collection of markers and pens….and it suddenly gave her the most brilliant idea. She swiftly went to the drawer that had them, and ran over to where Alastor was finishing with putting away the clothes. She hopped up and down at his feet, beaming up at him.

“Yes, dear?” Alastor gave her a genuine smile.

“Oh! Oh!” She continued to hop up and down excitedly, pointing at the floor.

Rolling his eyes at her, he sighed, and went to seat himself on the floor of the hotel. He sat with his legs crossed - still wearing the dress pants to his suit - and pressed his bare back against the smooth wood of the desk drawer.

Niffty immediately began to clamber all over him, her little self darting about him like a crazed and rabid squirrel. Alastor smiled to himself as he rested his head back, closing his eyes.

When she was done, she leaped from his knee and smiled proudly up at him. He cocked one eyebrow at her, ever smiling, before letting himself up off the floor before going to the nearest mirror.

Niffty had taken the markers and the pens and had used them to draw in each and every one of the deep, slashing scars that crisscrossed across his dark skin. She took pains to angle and sharpen them just enough, that they resembled menacing stripes.

Niffty broke into a fit of laughter, loudly exclaiming, “Tiger!!!” Her laughing fit continuing.

Alastor grinned back at his striped reflection in the mirror. Ruffling his hair slightly, he concealed his antlers the best that he could. Pulling back his ears, he laid them flat, curling the ends as he snarled into the mirror, his teeth sharp and exposed in a wide and wicked grin.

Niffty absolutely lost it, collapsing onto the floor her little body shaking with her insane laughter, tears streaming out the ends of her eyes. Alastor, himself, erupted into a fit himself and they both manically cackled together in front of the mirror for some time.

Meanwhile, just outside the door and into the hallway, Angel and Husker were coming back from a night out on the town. Walking past the door, Angel remarked – a little uneasily – “Do you think they are plotting mass murder in there?”

Husker sighed. “Knowing those two,” He said. “It’s something stupider than you think.”