#*salivates like a rabid animal*

[crystalmethanie]

Leyendecker inspired… I am finally redrawing that One Thing I never finished because I fucked it up immensely LOL

[loveydoveylex]

we just got a teaser for the second dlc for sparks of hope, and it's lookin awesome and I STILL need to check out more of the game because it seems so rad!!

but also... it's got me foaming at the mouth because that means the second dlc is close to release...

which means... once that's released, what's the next dlc after that? dlc 3. who's in dlc 3?

MY HUSBAND

WE ARE GETTING CLOSER Y'ALL 🥹

[ccaptain]

summer time is where the new skins start dropping like dead flies. we will REJOICE at the next livestream where kaeya’s skin will drop

[breechingbaby]

Emotional stimulant Frank Iero

[nishloves]

18+ below the cut // mingyu x afab!reader

mingyu the golden retriever! boyfriend who with his huge muscles and body is just a little pup who wants all of your love and affection. His twinkly eyes gaze up at you as you're reading, head resting on your lap as he urges you to play with his hair, making you your favorite coffee, spoiling you with his wet kisses— it's all in his blood.

mingyu, the needy boyfriend, who after his tiresome days just wants to hold you against him, playing with your soft plush skin and nuzzling his nose in your hair as he presses kisses against your neck, teeth biting on your shoulder as he cups your ass and breasts wantonly, he's so in love with your shape, so in love with the way your form fits against him, it's like you were morphed for him.

mingyu who pouts at you when you push him away, afterall he only wants your gaze on him! he looks like a sweet little dog wagging his tail, waiting for you to finally look at him and shower him with your love, and if you don't, he's gonna sulk, sulk so much as he forcibly sprawls over you, no body can take his baby away from him— no body can deprive him of your attention, not even you.

mingyu, who acts like a rabid dog the moment he's gotten you quivering below him, wet salivating tongue glistening against your folds as he teases and teases you, your whines and moans music to his ears as he fondles your curves, plush and pouty lips kissing your core, almost feasting on it greedily.

The bulbous head of his thick cock teases your pussy, as his large hands spread your thighs apart for him, eyes savoring the way your body is clenching around nothing, your arousal dressing his tip with the sweetest essence he's ever known. And he can't help but let out the most sinful of moans when he's finally inside you, praising you, worshipping you and thrusting like an animal in heat. He's almost in tears, he's so in love with his pretty little girlfriend.

And after it's done he's sure to lick your cum, tongue wrapping around his fingers as he moans from tasting you, his large eyes roll back in pleasure as his invisible tails wags for more and more— you're in for a looooooong ride <3

[godjo]

tags — gojou x f!reader x bf!getou. ꒰ explicit smut. spitroasting. threesome. fellatio. cunnilingus. both are pussywhipped. fingering. facial. mindbreak. minors, blank, and ageless blogs dni. ꒱

from hunter — it is ovulation time, i have no excuse. i’ve been thinking too much about getou lately and this is the result. ✮

it’s just a silly, fun game, prompted by none other than your boyfriend’s best friend. nobody would’ve foreseen that the end of a movie night will have your pussy pounded by gojou while getou’s balls are smothered all over your sticky face.

“mhm, like that, pretty girl?” your boyfriend, getou, asks with an impish grin adorning his lips. his cock swells inside your mouth, proud and hard against your salivating tongue. balls clapping your chin, his bush tickling your nostrils.

of course, it’s impossible to respond, let alone signal anything because you’re too fucked out of your wits. the whites of your eyes continue to dominate, your mouth nonstop in its slabbering because damn it all, gojou fucks like a rabid animal.

sure, gojou has always been nasty, freaky in his own grandiose way. and it’s because of him why the three of you ended up naked, sweaty, and fucking each other to bliss. but gods, he’s never expected your pussy to feel like this.

he’s milking his cock with your velvet, tight walls from root to tip. cocktip tingling every time it kisses your cervix. your cunt has already made a mess, pussy juices painting your puffed up cunt lips and gojou’s heavy balls. it’s impossible to stop fucking you when you grip him like a lifeline.

“enjoyin’ yourself, satoru?” getou teases, seeing gojou’s feverish eyes, a dainty pink crawling over the apples of his cheeks. “c’mon, use your big boy words.”

“well, fuck you, suguru,” gojou answers between shallow breaths. he chuckles, then, deep and throated. “‘s this why you’re so goddamn pussywhipped?”

“damn right,” getou hisses, the unexpected swirl of your tongue around his cocktip snatching air from his lungs. “gettin’ greedy now, angel?” he coos, cupping both your ears to pin his pelvis against your face. “oh, fuck, your mouth feels amazing, pretty.”

“and your pussy, too,” gojou leans forward and whispers in the shell of your ear. “never fucked anything like this before.”

gojou’s nails dig craters in your soft flesh while he ruts into you at a pace that has your eyes tearing up. his cock feels so good— your brain almost shuts down because of the sensation if not for getou.

your boyfriend smiles fondly down at you, edged with thick mischief, as he pulls his cock out from your mouth and taps your cheek with his puffy cocktip. he shoves his balls between your lips, the ridge of his girth resting on the bridge of your nose while you suckle on his balls hefty with unreleased cum. getou’s lips went ajar, stars dancing in his eyes, crimson dusting his cheeks.

you chuckle, breathless and elated. he’s so handsome when he’s losing his mind over you.

“angel, my precious baby, you’re a naughty thing, aren’t you?” he shoves his cock inside your mouth again, this time fucking the inside of your cheek.

the lewd and unfiltered sounds he echoes send bolts down your spine, causing your damped pussy to clamp hard around gojou’s girth.

he throws his head back, biting his lips so hard they would bleed. gojou’s so close— and yet he wants to seize the moment, fucking himself with your pussy until his balls tighten and he’s only seconds from pumping your womb with cum.

gojou and getou pull out at the same time. their hesitation to let you go palpable in the ache between their chests. ache that’s been augmented by their climax. all you can hear are their mindless moaning and gasping and pumping.

getou’s heavy and viscid cum shoots up your face. to your cheeks, mouth, nose, and even eyelids. while gojou sends his own sticky cum all over your back.

the three of you falls on the couch, collecting the shattered sanity you’ve spent from hours of fucking. your body automatically searches for getou’s warmth, and he takes you in his arm, kissing the top of your head.

“sorry, pretty, i’ve made such a mess,” he murmurs as he wipes his cum from your face with his shirt. “look at me baby, let me kiss you.”

getou guides you on his lap. his strong, warm hands cup your heated cheeks, before claiming your lips. his hands roam around your body, locking you in, your sticky cunt pulsing against his flaccid cock.

“i love, love, love you,” he tells you hotly, each word laced with open-mouthed kisses. “wanna eat your pussy, angel. can i eat your pussy?”

“‘course, suguru,” you whisper in his mouth. “want to feel you. let me feel you, please?”

he swiftly shifts your position. you’re laying on the couch; getou pitches himself between your legs. he spreads your thighs apart, sniffing your tingling pussy before lapping on the soft folds.

“mhm, suguru, just like that— hah—” you bite your fingers, feeling getou’s warm tongue licking all over your cunt. threading his raven hair with your shaking fingers, you pull his face close and locks his head with your thighs.

“suguru, you know that’s like giving me a blowjob, right?” gojou poses from the nearest sofa. he’s still naked, as though he cannot move at all, but those piercing blue eyes are glued to the image before him.

getou merely gives him a lackadaisical finger; he cannot be bothered by anything, not even gojou’s teasing, once he’s got his tongue kitten licking your clit.

“‘m so close, baby, please—” you declare, hot tears springing in your eyes again. getou parts your fold with two fingers, pumping your pussy while licking your clit and losing himself on the job of making you come on his tongue.

like shockwaves in your brain, your ass rises from the couch, chasing the zenith, but getou holds you firmly. you shout his name, crying and screaming and moaning, because god— he’s not stopping even though you’re breaking from the pleasure of it all.

“suguru— hah—” you fall limp on your position, clueless about what to do, as another wave of release washes over you. you’re shaking, twitching, drooling under his mercy.

he snatches you in his arms again, soothing you with gentle confessions of his love, of how you’ve been so good for him, and how he’s crazy only for you.

you’re on the verge of falling asleep when a soft kiss falls on your bare shoulder. eyes heavy with fatigue, you follow its owner, just to see gojou preparing to leave.

“i’m leaving now. do you need anything?” he dials his phone on his way to the door, muttering different kinds of food and ordering everything to be delivered to getou’s place. there’s mischief on gojou’s face as he waves goodbye. “we should do this again sometime, don’t you think?”

“fuck off, satoru,” getou drawls with a knowing smile.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” his best friend replies, followed by trails of smoky laughter before he closes the door. <3

2024 godjo — do not repost, edit, or copy.

[wherenymphsroam]

“rough day?”

♱ it was a rough day. and you’re too pretty to resist.

♱ cw: afab reader but no gendered terms are used, degradation (he’s stressed n mean), boot humping, spit, D/S undertones

(can be seen as a bit dubcon but this was written with the implication of a pre existing free use dynamic in place.)

♱ a/n; need him to shake me around like a dumb puppy. maybe I wouldn’t be mentally ill anymore

The sound of the door slamming shut jolts you, heavy and resounding through the house. He doesn’t even bother to call out in greeting, the only form of signal you get that he’s coming towards you being the heavy footfalls of his boots against the hardwood floors. 

It was a bad day. 

The weight of his agitation dampened the air of the kitchen when he stopped in the doorway. You don’t have to turn away from where you’re wiping down the counter to know his typically bright blue eyes are hooded, clouded over with how intensely he was staring at you. 

“Leon…?”

You turn, all doe eyes and creased brows, questions on the tip of your tongue that you dare not let slip out. 

God, that pretty fucking face. Those sweet lips, the way your eyes brighten even under the shadow of the storm whirling through him. 

It made him want to ruin you. 

“Sweetheart… C’mere,” he murmurs, voice clipped with barely restrained agitation, white knuckled control. 

It wasn’t agitation at you, you knew that. Agitation was too often becoming a forefront mood for him lately, something you could only yearn to quell and quiet with each sharp, seemingly daily flare. 

Maybe that’s why you buckle so easily, feet carrying you over to stand before him before you can do much as blink. 

Because like this, if even just for a few minutes, an evening, you knew you quieted his mind, soothed his heart with the rush of hormones your body could coax out and flood him with.

“Rough day,” you murmur softly, gently. It’s a statement, the obvious dragged out in the open to settle thickly between you, like stretched taffy. 

He only nods. 

Nose flaring with the heavy exhale that leaves him, his thick lashes fluttering for a moment before he finally, finally dares to settle his clouded, unreadable eyes on you. 

“On your knees.” 

Realistically, it should be considered pathetic how quick you are to comply. How easily his words, his mere presence alone slips you out of that day to day awareness and high functioning state. Hell, it probably is pathetic, depending on who you ask. 

But could you really be blamed..? Leon was easily the most hardworking, selfless man you knew. God forbid you wanted to suck him off about it on a daily basis. 

Your knees settle on the cool tile of the kitchen, eyes obedient and bright, all but starry with anticipation when you gaze up at him. Hands laid flat on your thighs, your mouth already starting to salivate at the sight of his figure shadowing you… it would be an understatement to say that Leon’s self control was wearing thin. 

And quickly.

It was a tightrope between taking you right there on the floor like a damn rabid animal, and wanting to tear you apart piece by piece. He knew either option would make good on helping him to forget the horrors and stress of the past twelve hours, but as much as he was a man with needs, he was a patient one. And trying to balance the both of those facts, desperately and fruitlessly trying to get a read on him right now? It left you throwing arrows blindly against a dart board. 

Which is why it was a bit surprising when you found the hard toe of his boot sliding between your thighs, Leon’s idly hanging hands making no attempt to click his belt off making your breath hitch. 

“I don’t see why you even bother to wear these. The material is so thin,” he mutters, tilting his head in intrigue as he watches his boot settle against the clearly outlined shape of your cunt through the thin material of your shorts. The lounge shorts you insisted on parading around the house in, the ones that barely kept your ass contained.

“Can see your fucking pussy from here. Are you even wearing underwear?” 

The lilt of condescension in his voice directly betrays the look of faux boredom he was attempting to keep on his features. 

No. Ruined them by lunch thinking about you.

“T… They’re in the wash,” you meekly attempt to defend, swallowing thickly. Maybe like this you could act like you hadn’t become a depraved slut for him, you tell yourself.

His sharp eyes catch and follow the bob of your throat, the twitching of your fingers. 

Denying it even when you’re itching to touch me. Poor thing.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he scoffs, short and throaty, his lips briefly curling at one end. It was the closest to a smile you’d gotten out of him in a week. 

“Can feel you soaking through the damn things already. A shame your pussy’s more honest than you are,” he hums, crossing his arms. His toe rocks back and forth, short, concise motions that drag your clit with each sway, delicious and addicting. You’re far from reasonable right now, his words tearing through that flimsy wall of self respect. At least, your excuse for it, you supposed. 

Panting now, your neck gives way, leaving your forehead to fall and rest on his thigh. 

“Leon-” 

“Shut up and ride it,” he gruffly responds, dragging dirty fingers through your hair in a way that directly contradicts his harsh words. Even now, he was sweet in his caress. 

However, that sweet affection is quickly forgotten. All it takes is a meek nod of your head, a twitch of your thighs and a whimper escaping you to have his fingers tightening against your scalp, craning your neck back in a way that forces you to look up at him. 

“Open.”

Quickly obliging him, your lips part, tongue obediently flattening as soon as your jaw goes slack.

He’s typically one to dance around the obvious, to tease you a bit. Most often, his go to was to squish your cheeks, tell you how fucking adorable you look when you’re hungry for his spit. Maybe dragging the rough pad of his thumb along your lips, tracing the sweet shape delicately before he finally starts to gather your treat on his tongue.

But not tonight. 

Tonight, his thumb is hooking into the corner of your lips, muttering something about “we both know you can go wider” before he’s leaning down, spitting into the back of your throat. You damn near choke, sputtering for a moment before you recover. That is, just in time for him to pat your cheek once, twice — not enough to make it hot, but enough to sting, pleasantly so. 

His fingers tighten, digging roughly into your molars, using his grip on your jaw to shake you a bit like that of a dog with narrowed eyes, set lips. Pliant and empty headed, like that of a doll… he liked you best like this. Your attitude, your wit, your intelligence, sure, all that was great. But it was nights like this that reminded him of his handiwork. Of how far you’ve come in becoming his perfect slut.

“Keep it in your mouth. Don’t wanna hear a damn word. You swallow and you don’t come tonight.”

It was going to be a long night.  

[solbaby7]

Hiii, can I get a margarita with a salt rim on the rocks, please? Thank you!💕

[ “got a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it.” + smut + rhysand ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Rhysand liked wild things—had this affinity for collecting strays; plucking them from their prisons and providing a life of freedom and luxury.

Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you. This rabid animal of a thing with a serious aversion to proper clothing and absolutely no regard for others personal boundaries. “Back for more charity work?”

“Is that how you think of my visits? I’m hurt.”

You look down at him with amusement, crouched low on a branch with a skirt so short it takes effort not to stare. “We both know you aren’t,” You make tree climbing look easy, bare toes trodding across branches that don’t look sturdy but hold strong bearing your weight. “What’d you bring me this time?”

Rhysand dangles the wicker basket before him with two fingers. He’s teasing, offering; luring you in closer as the laws of the Middle insists that its lands and the creatures in it must welcome you and not the other way around. “Come see for yourself, trouble.”

He’s grown fond of the wild way you move, confidently twisting and ducking through the forestry—the breathable linen of your strapless top flows with the breeze. Handmade necklaces kiss at your clavicle, all braided leather with bleached bones, carefully woven shells and shiny geodes. Once you get close enough he can see the neat braids peeking through loose strands, interwoven thread adding pops of color in haphazard places. “More naughty words on paper,” You chuff out when the weight of two books sits in your hands. The pages are pristine; probably first addition and perfectly cared for. “Always knew you High Lords were just pampered perverts.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you read the last two I brought you.”

Rhysand is sure he’ll have dreams about the pretty blush on your cheeks. He’s certain fantasies have planted their seed with intent to grow and grow like fucking ivy until nothing in sight could be see but you and that feisty furrow of your brow and the sharp roll of your eyes. Curious hands dig around the basket, sifting through cured meats and cheeses, parchment paper and oil pastels, rich fabrics and a case full of fresh sewing needles. “You trying to turn me into a fucking housewife or something? Charcuterie boards and fixing the buttons on your rich boy clothes.”

“Got a mouth on you.” Rhys chuckles in amusement, aubergine irises twinkling with silent adoration. “Someone should teach you how to use it.” You don’t seem the slightest bit ashamed when forcing him to hold onto your things, urging him to follow with a jerky nod of your head. “Could start by saying thank you.”

“Make me.”

Something in the air shifts. It alters the way he stands. Awakens a creature lurking in his shadow and its sights lock on you—the female with no fear of monsters. No, instead you hunt them, wrangle them up and tame them. Rabid beasts crooned into fucking house pets and Rhysand yearned to be the stray you took pity on. “Make you use your mouth properly? Or make you say thank you?”

“Both.” He’s hooked; shoes sinking into your footsteps until thick forestry breaks into a clearing with a house built smack dab in the middle. It’s surrounded by flowers, lavender and lemongrass guarding hand built basins labeled with fresh produce to fend off freeloading animals. Ivy creeps up one side of the greenhouse attached to the back. “Show me how to do it like they do in the books you bring me.”

Is it possible for a mouth to dry up and salivate at once? Because Rhys suddenly finds his in an odd mix of something in between. You barely notice the clumsy way he sets aside your basket of goodies but you’re fully aware of the eager way he pulls you in, stopping you from taking a step further. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You scan the length of him, running over the strong set of his shoulders and the practiced ease in the way his arms rest at his sides. Every breath strains against the soft cotton of his shirt, solid muscle radiating warmth when you rest the palm of your hand against it. It’s a slow drag down and you feel no shame for your curiosity when exploring the length of his abdomen, fingers hooking in the loop of his belt. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” The metallic click of his belt unbuckling, the sharp undoing of tied dress pants. “But, I’m a visual learner.” Rhys’ heart throbs in his chest when you sink to your knees, blood rushing lower until the true extent of his affection towards you is standing at attention in your face.

“I can help with that,” He’s already easing down the top of your shirt, groaning at the sight of bare breasts and pebbled nipples. “Though, my teaching style is a little more…hands on.”

You don’t have time to ask what that means when he’s giving you exactly what you asked for; tugging down his pants just enough to show off a throbbing erection, ruddy tip leaking pre-cum. Two fingers tap at your cheek twice and you have no control over the way your mouth drops open.

He knows he’s being a little rougher than he should—it’s probably your first time giving head and yet he can’t slow down his movements. You don’t even complain, breathing through the way his cock is fed to you, spit glistening along the length and dribbling down your chin. “Quick learner, aren’t you?” Rhys praises so prettily, such nice words spewing free as if he wasn’t rutting his prick down your throat.

Thumbs clear away the tears from under your eyes when you gag. The rasp of his voice urging you to work harder, to hollow your cheeks and run your tongue along that vein that has blunt nails digging into the nape of your neck. Swears spill in a sloppy slur, hands guiding the bob of your head until his release shoots down your throat with a choked grunt.

There’s no way you don’t look a mess when you peer up at him. Fucked out eyes. Tears tracking down your cheeks. Bruised lips. A wet patch dripping down your chest and still you utter the words, “Thank you.”

Just perfection and something inside him screams ‘mine’ the same time Rhysand replies with a breathless, “You’re welcome.”

[satansdarlin]

18+ intended to be f!reader

Imagine... sanji wit a breeding kink... salivating.

Masterlist

"Oh fuckkkk" he whined out as he pistons his hips into you, your legs up over his shoulders as your knees pressed to your chest. The slight ache in your thighs a subtle reminder of how long you two had been at this. Really this had started out as a innocent conversation of the future you wanted with your loving boyfriend, Sanji. You talked of what kind of wedding you wanted, what future house you wanted, the picture perfect future in your eyes. The one thing that made sanji go from nodding and listening so intently to fucking you like a rabid animal was the mention of wanting a little family with him one day. The idea of naming your little bundles of joy together was so adorable to you. Sanji had always wanted a family. So to have his life partner tell him they wanted his kids, well it definitely worked him up.

His hips slammed into yours, the wet noises filling the room along with your moans. His cum and the slick that was between you dripped onto your sheets. "Gonna fill you up, gonna make me a daddy right baby? You'll look so good waddling around needing my help" he groaned out as he got closer to his end. "Fuck gonna fill you up, gonna make sure it sticks" his hips stuttered to a halt a warm sprays of his arousal hit your overstimulated walls. He let you legs down as he kept his cock nestled in you. Your pants were nearly in unison, he let out a soft chuckle as he rubbed your hips.

"You don't think we are done yet do you?"

[ctheathy]

Zails the Zone Cop NSFW Headcanons

Zails x Reader

NSFW Headcanons

Short Concept

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

These are smut headcanons, read at own risk. !Female!dom!Reader+sub!Zails • Eating his darling out • Drooling/salivating • He gets a bit rabid with it

Ah, wowie. Zails getting himself a girlfriend? I thought it would never happen... but let me tell you that Zails is truly one of the most hopeless and desperate variant of Tails that exists. He would be so needy for constant affection and reassurance, but he'd also be quicker to grow a lot more ...horny than the rest of the bunch. Even if he constantly has his grabby fingers all over you, a singular touch from you can easily trigger his sensitive nerves, leaving him an aroused mess.

And if you gave him permission to taste your cervical fluids? That is 111% the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life and you absolutely should do it because it would absolutely shatter Zails the best way possible. He would instantly fall and completely melt into a drooling mess and beg you for a chance. He’s not used to those sweet, sweet fluids and he is absolutely not stopping until he has to be pried off of your body with a crowbar. He would be in pure ecstasy and nobody would be able to separate him from you anymore.

It would be the worst thing Zails has ever felt, and he wouldn’t be able to think straight anymore due to how much he would enjoy it. He’d be making pathetic groaning noises and his leg would shake uncontrollably. You would be his whole world at that moment, he wouldn’t even hear it if there was a volcano exploding outside his house. There would be no way for him to recover from that at all.

Tell him to not dare disappoint you while does the deed.

Cause that, my friends, would be the end of everything for Zails because that would literally be the final blow. His legs would go numb from the ecstasy as he softly moans into your entrance, tongue working overtime just to enjoy the sweet and divine taste. His mind would become completely flooded with hormones that would leave him absolutely dizzy. His whole world has been flipped upside down and he would NEVER recover from this.

He’d be so weak-minded that he wouldn’t be able to think of anything else but making you feel satisfied as his eyes would roll back and moan louder into you, not wanting it to stop. He would be completely addicted to the taste, and the sound, and the sight of the whole thing. His tongue deep inside of you getting every drop of nectar he can. I can see his tongue would become more desperate with its movements to try and taste even more of you. Becoming more vocal as it reaches deeper into your body, his tongue being in this hot, moist and tight claustrophobic space, with juices soaking his already wet tongue.

And by the time he reaches that level of desperation, he’d be nothing short of rabid. His tongue would move at rapid pace as he just tries to get more of every single drop, his brain just melting to the point he feels like a drooling animal. And the more he gets the more desperate he becomes, he would feel your hands on his back and he would get more desperate. He’d start licking anywhere you touched him, just praying for more. His body is nothing more than a shell anymore.

Which is the perfect comparison honestly, he’d be acting like he was on death row and this was his last meal before dying. He would be lapping up everything like a dog that wasn’t fed for weeks. And if you decided to actually allow yourself to climax, oh lord, that would be the biggest shot of pure ecstasy he could ever experience. It would absolutely break him to the bone. He would feel like he didn’t deserve to live for being able to experience that kind of blissful experience.

You'd have a grip over his tongue since the start of the interaction, and it would get progressively tighter until it would become unbearable. His breathing would get heavier and he’d start to moan so loudly, but you could definitely make him feel the lowest he could possibly be. He’d be trying to reach a deeper level while you can enjoy every moment of him being helpless in your grasp, sitting on his face once he’s ready to burst.

Zails would absolutely need a full body suit just to keep all the drool in his mouth because he’s actually just a mess of an entity at this point. He’s nothing short of a starving animal in heat who would have no care about being overstimulated. And if you were to let out a sound that even remotely resembles a moan, he’d be a goner. He’d go insane on you and you may as well just be giggling the whole time over him melting and making a mess. He is completely broken at this point. All it takes is a single sound.

And that, I think, would cause his mind to completely snap. He would be completely overrun by his own emotions and be in complete euphoria, yet so filled with desire too. He would reach a point where even days after the experience, he will literally be begging for you to let him drink from your fountain of life again. You would not only see the desperation in his eyes, but you could feel it in his entire being. And his body would be shaking all over, as if in a fever, unable to contain all of that need inside ever again.

A need he didn't even know he had.

[keis-slut]

deal|alastor

CW: DEGRADING, CHOKING, GAGGING, ORAL, SQUIRTING, CUNT SLAPPING, OVERSTIMULATION

“so…its a deal then, hm?”

a menacing sharp-toothed smile plastered across his face as he asks, almost anxious as he awaited your hand to slip into his, then finally sealing the decision.

why he wanted your soul? you weren’t too sure, and he didn’t bother explaining, nor did you ask. but he was eager.

all you were really worried about was your end of the bargain, anyway. even then, you were already willing to give your soul up for him any day, so this was an easy win-win in your book.

you just waiting for him to ask.

your end of the bargain, might i add, was that if he claimed your soul, you claimed his sexuality.

if he wanted your soul, he’d have to fuck you whenever you please.

he was hesitant at first, with little to no experience on sex, to rumors of asexuality, he was still determined to own you. and you’d gladly let him.

and so, he agreed.

this eventually leading to situations where his clawed hand clenched at your throat, nails digging into your soft skin as he quickly learned all the rhythms and kinks of your liking.

he met you in your room at the hotel quite often on nights like these, him spitting distasteful and disrespectful words to your face, all the while his cock hit just the right spots.

his derogatory demeanor making you question if he was acting in such a way for you because you liked it, or if he truthfully felt that this deal made you look like a pathetic whore in his eyes.

either way, it got you off.

admittedly, never to you but to himself maybe, this felt good to him, too. you felt good to him.

his current lazy thrusts as he once again reached a high he now yearned for at the end of every day, how perfectly your pussy squeezed just the right nerves for him.

“such a sloppy cunt, dear, i almost feel bad for you…”

his hand still squeezed at your throat, while the other hand was pushed against the back of your thigh, holding up your leg as a choked sob cares to emit past your lips.

“you sound so pathetic, almost as if you didn’t ask for this”

you abruptly pushed against his body weight in faux protest, causing his grip on your neck to lighten up just enough for you to cry out,

“you wanted my soul…”

immediately, he threw his weight back onto you, bringing the hand around your throat and slipping them up to your lips.

“and you wanted to be fucked like a bitch-“

your head turned to mush as soon as he spoke, shoving his fingers past your tongue. your remark having him now fuck you like a rabid animal, salivating all over his fingers as he gagged you.

“-so, be a good girl and take it”

cries and whimpers filled the room along with the wet slapping of his cock squeezing inside your cunt, his front hitting against the back of your thighs.

“a-al-!-mmph-“

you did your best to speak, but he did even better at shutting you up as his cock bottomed out into you, your walls fluttering and your lower tummy tightening.

he couldn’t help the feral growls that slipped past his mouth as you clenched around him, your leg now hooked tightly around his shoulder as he clawed your thighs, definitely leaving reminders.

he was so good at reading you, he learned you so quick, all he had to do as you squirmed beneath him was caress at your clit, and time it correctly

your moans grew desperate, and he felt you only grow tighter around him, and finally-

“f-fuck! alastor!-“

he pulled out perfectly as you squirt all over his torso, his own cum leaking down his cock as he brought a hand to caress your soaked cunt, giving it a little slap, of approval or disapproval, could be both.

he sent a laugh at your spuratic cries and moans as you came down from your high, but not done with you yet.

he brought his hands to the back of both your thighs as he lowered himself, setting your legs on his shoulders.

sticking out his tongue, he licked up your pussy and latched on, giving a hard suck as his tongue lapped up your mess.

your legs tightened around his head, arms flailing as your hands found his antlers and gripped them, body quivering from overstimulation.

“‘s too much-fuck..!”

you cry, knuckles turning white as your grip tightened on his antlers.

he mewled into your walls as this send him over the edge, giving one last hard suck as he released with a pathetic pop from your flushed cunt.

he crawled towards you slightly, his frightening eyes glowing red in the darkness of your room as he watched you like prey, your slick coating his mouth.

“same time tomorrow, sweetheart?”

[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!

[barrenclan]

Please don't tell me nightberry has rabies, we already lost asphodelpaw

Nah, she's just salivating because of how worked up she is. Pinepaw compares her to a rabid animal, but she's not rabid or sick in any way. It's like how "foaming at the mouth" is used as an indicator of intense excitement.

Actually, there are plenty of perfectly good reasons to do that. All mammals (including humans) start salivating when they get really worked up. Rabies is not literally the only reason that can happen, it's just the primary marker of an otherwise completely silent disease.

Like I said, "foaming at the mouth" is an expression for a reason. It's not meant to show that Nightberry is just "angry". She's so completely overwhelemed, out of control, and filled with terror and rage that she's out of her mind with it. Adding froth elevates that from rational to irrational emotions, building the intensity and power of her expressions.

No rabies here!

[mothybean]

Average

Jinx x Fem!Reader

a/n: A buddy of mine recommended me to post my fics here sooo...

This is a MA story!

Explicit Sexual Themes

Minors DNI

Both characters are 18 years old.

(Y/N is depicted as 5"1 with mid length hair.)

---

Chapter 1. Ordinary

There’s nothing worse than being average. Being average never won anyone an award. It never allowed one to be picked first for sports to join their team. Most of all, being average almost always drove my thoughts to make me feel as if I wasn’t important; as if I didn't deserve to exist with the rest of the society. Not quite a nobody, but not quite somebody: a depressing limbo.

Average. 

The way the word rolled off my tongue made me want to rip it out, tainting my mouth with such a despicable word. I’ve been average pretty much all of my life. I would rather be super nerdy if that allowed attention from someone other than my small knit group of friends. I yearned to be something other than what most would consider an NPC. It was a curse. 

I huffed silently as I let the negative thoughts thunder inside my head, each pessimistic worry bouncing back and forth against my skull like a rabid squirrel trying to escape animal control. I slumped in my chair, my arms dangling off the sides with my cheek squished against my notes staring off into a bookshelf across from me. I really should be studying, but I just couldn’t bring myself to pick my head up. I was too busy drowning in my dismal self-reflection.  As I stared at a random thick leather book spine, another intrusive thought appeared. Did studying in the school’s library during my free period make me even more average? Should I study underneath a busy overpass? Or maybe in the middle of the street?

“You look lively.” I heard a familial voice say behind me. 

Still too upset to move, I lazily lifted my arm to give them a half-assed wave before letting my arm go limp again. I heard Calista snort before she stood in front of me, blocking my intense staring contest between the leather book and me. She placed her hands on her hips, giving me her infamous look of disbelief.

“Goin’ through it again, huh?” Her displeased look softened into one of empathy, taking the seat in front of her.

I nodded softly, my cheek slightly sliding the paper beneath it. “Oh, Y/n. There, there.” She sighed, giving my head a couple of pats. “Is it the usual Y/n thought special a la carte?” She chuckled, leaning on the table with their head supported by her hands.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, flashing her a pair of somber eyes. “When is it not?”

She dropped her pastel pink satchel onto the table, the thud resonating between the table and my head. Calista started to dig through her bag, various sounds emitting from it as she blindly searched for something. A few more seconds of noisy clutter clashing around echoed before she exclaimed, “Aha!” She triumphantly pulled out the item, hiding it within her closed fist and extended it out towards me.  “Give me your hand.” Calista demanded.

I pinched my brows together with curiosity as I held my palm under her fist. She opened her hand and a small blue wrapped candy fell into my palm. A Blue Raspberry Warhead. I should have known. Were they my favorite? Yes. Did she only ever give them to me when I was being “sour”? Also yes. I felt a smile tug at my lips as I unwrapped the citric acid coated shell, my mouth already salivating from thinking about it. I finally separated my cheek from the table, sitting up straight in my chair as I popped the vibrant blue candy in my mouth.

“Better?” She beamed, closing her bag before dropping it at her feet.

I rolled my eyes, trying to regulate the amount of saliva I was producing and nodded slightly. She knew me better than anyone else. I was grateful for her.

“Yeah. Thank you.” I replied, moving the candy to my opposite cheek.

She watched as I enjoyed my little sour delight, her face visibly concerned before giving a forced shutter.

“I don’t know how you can just eat those with a straight face. Any normal person would be puckering until their whole face was sucked in.” She stuck her tongue out and let out a low, guttural sound of disgust.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her comment, sticking out my blue stained tongue at her. I guess I wasn’t completely “normal” after all. Even if it was over something trivial as being sour resistant. I’ll take it.

“Our free period is almost over. Wanna walk to class with me?” She asked, glancing at her matching pink smart watch while simultaneously reaching for her bag.

“Mhm.” I mumbled, gathering my loose notes sprawled in front of me. 

As I gathered my belongings, the raucous laughter of a group of girls reverberated through the library, their footsteps echoing loudly as they made their way towards the exit. Not wanting to look like a weirdo, I discreetly stole glances at them, envying their perfect hair and bodies swaying with each step. They were the epitome of popularity in our school, often referred to as the It Girls given by yours truly. I felt jealousy surge through my veins. They looked like fucking models while I’m over here looking like Plain Jane’s sister, Basic Betty.

There was one girl in particular out of the bunch that stood out to me, Jinx. Not only was her name super edgy, but she was the most gorgeous girl to me. Her strikingly long blue hair was typically meticulously woven into two flawless braids, cascading gracefully down to her ankles. Her complexion? Flawless. Her outfits were always so trendy, constantly wearing a mixture of alternative, yet stylish comfy clothes. And, probably one of my favorite attributes about her, she had a sleeve of baby blue cloud tattoos going down her right arm that were almost always visible. That girl was just effortlessly oozing perfection. She was so lucky. 

“Ready?” I asked Calista, tearing my eyes away from the girls, hoisting a single backpack strap on my shoulder. She replied with a smile and started towards the exit.

As I tailed a few steps behind her, my mind once again started to plummet into a tumultuous sea of self-deprecating thoughts, each wave crashing against the shores of my consciousness with a relentless force, dragging me deeper into the abyss of despair. God, I wanted to be her.

[camilla-obscura]

did u know ur boyfriend is dying and squealing and kicking his feet and blushing because his master is wearing a collar and getting tied up and holding other men dearly and pressing his forehead against them and hes literally salivating like a rabid dog like hes got rabies and its ur boyrfiend whos sooooooo obsessed with its master. who also wants to eat peoplr and has lightning powers and kills you with a fire slash to the chest and youre dead

@zane-romeave is this true. between this and your recent delve into the world of anime feet tycoon i feel like im learning more about you

[beardedmrbean]

In a rare case, a black bear in Connecticut has tested positive for rabies, sparking a warning from state wildlife officials.

The bear was a wild female adult discovered in Canton, Connecticut, in February 2023. Like other bears, it should have been hibernating during the winter months. However, due to mobility issues on the left side of its body, the bear was seen falling over, lying down, and not responding to human presence, according to a new paper in the journal Microbiology Resource Announcements.

The bear was observed for 24 hours before being euthanized by a Connecticut conservation officer. Its body was taken to the Connecticut Veterinary Medical Diagnostic Laboratory (CVMDL) at the Unversity of Connecticut's College of Agriculture, Health and Natural Resources for a post-mortem.

After the CVMDL sequenced the bear's brain tissue during the necropsy, they discovered that it was infected with rabies. This was only the second bear the lab had encountered with the virus.

The Connecticut Department of Energy and Environmental Protection (DEEP) has advised the public to avoid any animal that "appears to be distressed, which may include symptoms like stumbling, staggering, walking in circles, dragging a limb or the hind end, or otherwise acting strangely," according to a statement from the University of Connecticut.

Rabies is a viral disease that affects the central nervous system of mammals, causing the inflammation of the brain. The virus is typically transmitted through the saliva of infected animals via bites, scratches, or even mucous membranes and open wounds. It is almost always fatal once symptoms appear, which generally manifest after around 2–3 months and can initially include fever, headache and weakness, progressing to agitation, anxiety, hallucinations, a fear of water, excessive salivation, and lack of coordination.

If an animal displays neurological symptoms, such as stumbling and falling over, then scientists will first test for rabies. If the test comes back positive, CVMDL does not proceed with a full necropsy to protect staff.

"We rule out rabies because we don't want to do a necropsy that could expose people unnecessarily," Guillermo Risatti, CVMDL director and professor at the University of Connecticut, said in the statement. "So, once we detect rabies, that's it. We don't do anything else with the carcass."

The CVMDL scientists sequenced the entire genome of the rabies virus found inside the bear to compare it with a gene bank of other sequences from animals infected with rabies across the world. They found that the virus in the bear—which was the only bear sample on the whole database—most closely resembled a virus sequence from a raccoon in New England.

By comparing these strains of rabies, scientists can investigate how the virus spreads between animals in certain areas.

"That's the value—to see what the virus looks like and be able to distinguish a new virus coming into the area," Risatti said. "All of the sequencing is done by us, here in house. So that is the value. We have created a sequencing lab inside a diagnostic lab that is allowing us to dig more into what is going on."

Only 1 to 3 cases are reported in humans in the United States annually. If a human contracts rabies, they need to receive post-exposure prophylaxis as soon as possible, which can be up to 100 percent effective at preventing the disease. Around 60,000 people receive this post-exposure prophylaxis in the U.S. every year.

Humans most at risk are those living in areas where wildlife that commonly contract rabies, including bats, raccoons, skunks, and foxes, are common. While this case of rabies in a bear is rare, it may become more common in the future, as sightings of black bears in Connecticut have increased lately.

Nine bears were submitted to the CVMDL for testing in 2023 alone, compared to seven between 2019 and 2022.

The DEEP advises calling the local animal control officer or police department if you spot a potentially rabid animal, staying well clear of it, and definitely not attempting to pick it up.