#EVEN IF YOU WERE BEING CHASED BY VAMPIRES

[roguishcat]

WIP Monday and Wednesday on Friday

Thank you so much @obsessedwhyyes, @funniestbitchinfaerun, @verbenaa ,@anacdoce, @xxnashiraxx ,

@fangbangerghoul, @busy-baker for tagging me! ❤️❤️❤️ I loved reading your snippets!

I'm a simple woman with simple thoughts. Such as what Astarion thinks of his lover's butt, as inspired by the tireless efforts to give us great content by heroes using Freecam mod to reveal the juicy stuff that would otherwise have gone unnoticed.

I was a bit worried that it's weird shy about this, but then saw this post and was once again reminded that Tumblr is a safe space where we can all collectively obsess over the vamp! 💕

You felt giddy every time you asked for a kiss and Astarion agreed most enthusiastically. Kissing you deeply, both his hands squeezing your butt tightly, kneading the soft flesh in a way that had you both moaning into the kiss.

Lae’zel would roll her eyes and march past you, muttering something unsavoury under her breath about istiks and their peculiar mating rituals that would go completely ignored.

Shadowheart would smirk and pretend to be annoyed, remarking that if they were to be subjected to seeing you be all over each other, at least some change in repertoire would be nice.

It never went past that. Just as you agreed, you gave Astarion space and time to figure out what he was comfortable with. The two of you would hold hands, cuddle up to each other, share heated looks and sweetest kisses that made your toes curl. And without fail Astarion’s hands would eventually be touching, patting, squeezing, playfully slapping, or pinching your ass.  

So it really should have been no surprise when you woke up one fine morning with Astarion rutting against your clothed backside. Now, whilst you had no issue with your vampire enjoying himself, having explicitly stated to him on several occasions that you were game for whatever he would come up with, you were not entirely sure what to do now.

Should you just stay still? Judging by how his pace was picking up and the way his gentle grunts were becoming more audible by the second, Astarion would be done soon. He was clearly so lost in the moment and eager to chase his release that he didn’t even pick up on the change in your heartbeat.

Most of the time you slept like a log. It would take wildebeest stampeding past your tent for you to stir. Which is probably why Astarion, having made plenty of quips and jokes about your almost impressive ability to fall asleep in any place as soon as your head touched the bedroll, was not being particularly careful about being quiet.

Yes, staying still was probably best. If you were entirely honest, Astarion wanting you so desperately was doing wonders for your confidence. And the moans and grunts, his cool fingers on your hips, curls tickling the back of your neck, got you hot and bothered in seconds. You two weren’t intimate in... a while. And whilst this was not exactly how you thought you would next be intimate, you'd take it.

And then you felt your nose itch. What started as little itch that had you scrunching you nose in annoyance became worse by the second. Oh, hells! You were going to sneeze!

You tried to turn your head ever so discreetly to the side and rub your nose against the bedroll. Surprisingly enough, this got absolutely zero reaction from Astarion. And this would be the end of your predicament if you were anyone but the unluckiest woman in all the realms.

Your violent sneeze was like a clap of thunder on a still night.

No pressure tags💕 : tagging everyone who tagged me and @clazberryk, @preciouslittlebhaalbae, @khywren, @inkymoonbunny, @marlowethebard

[hithisiszooz]

1986

Vlad: does things get easier?

Penny: … what do you want me to say?

Vlad: … lie to me

Penny: Yes! Things will get easier, the good guys are always stalwart and true and the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horn-

*penny reaches out to touch her hair*

Vlad snorted

Penny: -and you always defeat them and save the day, everybody will live happily ever after

Vlad: liar.

[northwest-by-a-train]

American Tumblr, circa 1820:

Like, imagine being mad at settlers moving west into Indian land. I am sorry but some of us are poor! And my grandpa was a persecuted minority (Mennonite) so we were never going to make it in New York City like you degenerate privileged coastal elites. It's going to happen anyways, I don't see how me moving into their land with guns and taking ownership of land — land that, btw, they don't even plow, and practice cannibalism on, and many other unchristian practices, but you'll never hear James Fenimore Cooper talk about that, will you ? — I don't see how that makes me a bad person. The truth is just that you hate to see white trash (of pure Frisian stock, die mad about it) prosper and spread the truth of Christ and America over the land. Plus, like, president Jackson isn't that bad compared to the dastardly popish Spaniards out there. Some of you just don't like the real American people, chosen nation of god to rule upon this virgin land, and you blame me for it, when I'm just out there getting this bread 💅

you don't understand i need to go kill brown children/aid in killing brown children to get a college degree im so poor😢 it made me feel sooooo bad though i hate war smh

[yelenabemylova]

Long Hair (no bra) That's My Type - Agatha x Rio x Reader

summary: set in my upcoming agathario x reader au, a sneak peek for you all. kind of mean!rio and soft!agatha having sex with their girlfriend

warnings: smut !!! cunnilingus (r receiving), praise, degradation, slightly rough, begging, hickeys, tears, pwp <3

Rio laid between your legs, leaving hickeys all the way up your inner thighs, marking her territory. Behind you sat Agatha, your legs being held open by hers and her calloused hands roaming your body.

Whining, you bucked your hips towards Rio, craving her touch. “Patience, babygirl,” she smirked up at you. She continued her ministrations until she was satisfied with the masterpiece in front of her. Quickly, she pulled out her phone and took a picture of her work of art, making a mental note to make it her wallpaper later.

Tears of desperation began to stream down your face, your cheeks flushed and hair a mess. Agatha gently rubbed your arm to soothe you, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “You're too soft on her,” Rio scoffed, speaking about you as if you weren't even there.

“Well someone has to be,” Agatha bit back, sending her wife a menacing glare. The two loved to try and win your approval, however their methods to go about it differed immensely.

As Rio kissed your inner thighs on her way up to your aching centre, you swore under your breath in anticipation. Your girlfriends had many years of experience under their belts and you reaped the benefits of that in so many ways.

Agatha cupped one of your breasts in her hand, gently squeezing it, causing your back to arch. Rio took this as her opportunity to hover her face just above where you wanted her most. You whined loudly, chasing the friction her mouth could provide you.

“What do you want, baby? Hmm?” she asked you. You brought your hand up to her hair and tried to push her face into your dripping folds. “Come on honey, use your words,” she smirked. “Please,” you cried out.

Rio chuckled at how pathetic you looked, “please, what?” Agatha wiped the tears from your cheeks and scowled at Rio disapprovingly. “You want me to eat you out?” she took mercy on you, not wanting Agatha to be mad at her later.

Nodding furiously, you felt her lower herself in between your legs, using her expert tongue to bring you to the high heavens and beyond.

Immediately, you moaned out in pleasure, making Rio groan lowly into your cunt. The vibrations from her mouth were driving you crazy, making you want to close your legs around her head but Agatha kept them open, her own pussy becoming wet at the sight before her.

“Sweetheart, are you doing okay?” Agatha checked in with you. “Yeah,” you breathed out, a string of curses following your confirmation. Rio was quick to bring you close to the edge, “please, please,” was all you could manage to get out.

“I know, baby. I know,” she reached up to pinch one of your nipples, smirking as you yelped from the unexpected pain. Rio knew you secretly loved the feeling, she had accidentally discovered that when the two of you were messing around once.

Agatha was kissing and sucking on your neck like a starving vampire, the sensations overwhelming you in the best way possible. Rio noticed your body becoming more and more tense, slapping your breast and muttering, “be a good little slut and come for us, pretty girl.”

[chericos]

BLOOD SUCKING FREAKS!

your faves as vampires— multifandom headcanons

fandom list— vnc (the case study of Vanitas), bsd, jjk, mha, one piece, aot, kny, csm, genshin impact (brings back memories…), haikyuu, soul eater, hxh + more!

cws: nsfw?, blood, biting, possessive/yandere themes, dark themes, bites can be used as a sort of aphrodisiac, overstim themes, mentions of bruising, chasing, “hunting”, mentions of being tied/chained up, some are darker than others due to the characters being more inherently “evil”, unedited, you can tell who my favs are, sorry if some are short... tell me if I missed anything!

MDNI

He’s so sweet and kind with you, always ensuring you’re fully prepared to take him. His big rough hands toying and prodding in such a gentle manner that you can’t help but cry out for more. Tears prick the corner of your eyes at his slow pace, you’re not sure how much longer you could keep going like this. His hands trail up and down leaving goosebumps across your skin. His eyes sharpen as he peers down at the junction of your neck. He tilts his head down, inhaling deeply as he drags his tongue up your collarbone. He hovers over your pulse point, sharp fangs grazing the sensitive spot and you shiver at the feeling.

“May I?”

His voice is thick and laced with lust. you feebly nod your head, letting out a small whimper. He hesitates slightly before biting down. It is weak, and only just pierces the skin enough for it to bleed. But what did you expect your hunk of a vampire is just soft.

Maybe a little too soft.

— Izuku, Tamaki, All might, Nighteye, Nanami, Higuruma, Ino, Rengoku, Gyomei, Kunikida, Fukuzawa, Jouno, Atsushi, Roland, Zack Fair, Armin, Shiro, Kunigami, Reo, Kurapika, Cyno, Aether, Gepard, Hinata, Sugawara, Yamaguchi + your fav

Your skin is already littered with bruises and teeth marks. Small beads of blood trickle down your chest and he carefully laps at them. He's been at it for hours, marking you up, making sure whoever dares to look at you knows you belong to him. But who could blame him

Your flesh is so soft and tender between his teeth he can’t help but want to take a bite. It's like you've put him in a trance. His gorgeous girlfriend, who's so eager and pliable to his touch. You were practically made for him. And the sweet sounds you make when he pushes deeper inside of you, it's not his fault your moans are so hypnotizing.

He doesn't normally get so worked up, but you've been riling him up all day. Teasing him with your touches, whispering dirty words into his ear, it's only natural he would break at some point.

He didn’t mean to get rough, but you just tasted so good he couldn’t resist. You won’t blame him… right?

— Xiao, Ayato, Zhongli, Diluc, Alhaitham, Aizawa, Shoto, Shinso, Bakugo, Gojo, Noritoshi, Vanitas, Uzui, Giyuu, Zoro, Akutagawa, Chuuya, Aki, Rin, Isagi, Shidou, Sae, Tobio, Suna, Oikawa, Reno, Leon, Eren, Jean, Levi, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan + your fav

He's so messy.

Spending hours in between your thighs, kissing the supple skin, and also leaving his claim in their place. he's basically eating you alive, bite marks indented in the flesh, and he hasn't even touched you yet. You're whining for him to stop teasing, pleading for him to give you what you want. And who is he to deny?

Arms hooked under your thighs, keeping you in place from thrashing around. He buries his face into you, his nose nudging up against your clit, and the sensation has you jolting. He gives a tentative lick, eyes shooting up to look at your reaction. Your hands nestle into his hair, tugging at the roots as a moan slips out from your lips. And after that, he's ruthless, eating you out like you're a 5-star meal (you are). He's kissing and licking and sucking, and god, whatever the hell he's doing it's making your mind blank.

You don't have it in you to care about how loud you're being, and he doesn't seem to care either. In fact, they seem to encourage him to rip those pretty pretty sounds from you.

“So sweet f’me baby,”

Slick is practically covering the lower half of his face, but he doesn't seem to care. His eyes are blown wide, giving you a dazed out stare as he continues to lap at your core.

This was going to be a long night.

— Noè, Choso, Connie, Luffy, Tighnari, Kazuha, Itto, Kaeya, Leorio, Ranpo, Techou, Tachihara, Cloud, Bachira, Chigiri, Nagi, Kaiser, Aiku, Kuroo, Tanaka, Miya twins, Hizashi, Mirio, Jin, Hawks, Tamaki, Sero, Denki, Kirishima, Sampo, Jiaoqui + your fav

You're such a brat.

You're lucky he still puts up with you after everything you've pulled. He glares down at you, the eye contact making you uneasy. Your mewling and whimpering did nothing to sway him. Your hands are still tied behind your back as his thighs continue to spread your legs open. His hands as roaming your body, squealing and pinching in places that make you jump, before he leaves them to play with your nipples.

His touch is light and teasing, driving you insane. Your nipples harden under his touch, embarrassing sounds escaping your throat as he continues to toy with them. You shove your face into the pillows next to you to muffle them. One of his hands leaves your chest to grip your chin, tilting your head back to stare directly at him. He wants to see every expression you make.

The tension between your legs becomes too much to ignore and you begin to discreetly hump his thigh, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you. At least you thought you were discreet. You don't far before his hands are off you and he's shoving you away. With teary eyes you stare at him confused, why did he stop you?

You're needy and sensitive and you want him to touch you again. You beg for him to continue, but all he does is let out a low chuckle. He doesn't plan on letting you off the hook so easily. He wants to make sure this stays ingrained in your head so that you'll never make the same mistake again.

Because you're his, and he'll spend every second reminding you of that fact.

— August Ruthven, Sanemi, Iguro, Akaza, Geto, Dazai, Mori, Fukuchi, Shigiraki, Overhaul, Blade, Reiner, (s4) Eren, Feitan, Chrollo + your fav

He doesn't know why you keep trying, why you continue to run away. He doesn't understand whatever false sense of freedom you feel when he lets you out. Did you really think you could outrun him? Oh, how idiotic. If he had it in him he would pity you, so dumb and naive. It seems like you still haven't learned your lesson.

Your wrists and ankles are bound together, chained up to the wall. Tears prick your eyes but you know he won't care. He's leaning over you, peering down at your small form as you keep yanking at the restraints in hopes of being set free. You and he both know it's futile, so why keep fighting?

He grips your arms, sharp claws pinching the skin. Without warning he hastily leans down to sink his teeth into your neck. You scream out and thrash at the pain but he holds you still, makes you take it.

It doesn't take long for the venom to enter your systems, an intoxicating feeling clouding your mind and a strange but familiar heat coursing through your body. Your body tensed, heart-beat picking up as you tried to deny what was happening.

He licked the wound closed before stepping back. his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you squirm as the aphrodisiac set in. You scream at him, curses getting mixed in with small yelps as your body becomes sensitive to your clothes. But he isn't too worried about that. He'll break you one way or another.

And then you'll see that there is no way of escaping him.

— Sukuna, Kenjaku, Muzan, Douma, Fyodor, Dabi + your fav

HAPPY HALLOWEEN FREAKS!

Anyway just another disclaimer: I don't romanticize the actions performed in the last one, idk it just doesn't do anything for me, I also (personally) think it's unhealthy but wtv floats your boat ig!! (I say this like it isn't the longest section) IDK, it was just kinda fun to write, I've been meaning to get into darker themes(I have a Douma fic I've been meaning to write) so I wanted to go all out and see how it felt.

I love writing heacanons, ahhhhhhhh, I probably won't edit these so hopefully they aren't too bad!

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[littlefluu]

𓍯𓂃𓏧 E N H Y P E N F I C R E C S

AUGUST 19th, 2024 RECOMMENDATIONS

WELCOME TO A SMALL LITTLE COLLECTIONS OF RECENT WORKS I ENJOYED (I was really busy with uni so there isn´t that much new material here! For more recommendations check out my main masterlist) ⤷ GO BACK TO THE MAIN ENHYPEN MASTER LIST WITH EVEN MORE RECOMMENDATIONS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

ALL OF THE MEMBERS

love. f. moments where they realize they are in love or when they fall harder than they did before ᝰ fluff, short scenarios, all members .ᐟ₊ ⊹

Maybe in another universe !? by @leaderwon a. enhypen members texts after you pass away ᝰ sad, angsty SMAU, all members .ᐟ₊ ⊹

LEE HEESUNG

teeth by @gyuuberryy f, sug. you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy. ᝰ enemies to lovers, vampire!heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

talk tomorrow by @soobnny f. drunken confessions ᝰ best friends to lovers, heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

predictable predicament by @timextoxhajima f,s. so you're best friends with the campus hottie who happens to be the quietest one in his group of friends. he's different with you though. ᝰ best friend! heeseung, fluff, smut in the least explicit way .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK JONGSEONG

7:18 AM by @ashtxrie f. jay surprises a very sleepy y/n with breakfast. ᝰ established relationship, pure fluff, heavy domestic content timestamp, jay x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

Naturally by @ikeuverse f,s. ★ jay has always been very private about his love life and physical contact in front of his friends, but a comment from his work colleagues made him rethink some things. ᝰ established relationship, fluff, smut, domestic , chef!jay x fem!reader  .ᐟ₊ ⊹

How you get the girl by @jaylver f, a. ★ Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl. ᝰ strangers to frenemies to lovers, fake dating au, college sports au, romance, fluff, angst, secret pining, ice hockey player!jay x afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SIM JAEHYUN

Car rides by @jlheon f. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year ᝰ neighbors to lovers, fluff, highschool au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SOUL SISTERS f. where layla shows how much she cares about the growing life inside you. ᝰ fluff, heavy domestic content, husband!jaeyun x pregnant!reader, .ᐟ₊ ⊹

break the ice by @jaylver f, a. ★ Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss? ᝰ strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, angst, ice hockey player!jake x afab!reader.ᐟ₊ ⊹

Midnight train (back to you) by @jaylver f, a. ★ You declared to the world that this summer will be yours. Ever since you’ve left home to chase your dream further in Europe, you never dared to look back, leaving your friends and family along with the precious memories there, including your silent love for your closest friend. Years passed, you were making a name for yourself and chasing that fame, settling in perfectly fine and eventually moved on with life. All was well until the transfer window came, announcing a new addition to the men’s first team, who also happened to be your childhood best friend, Jake Sim. Summer in Spain wouldn’t be what it is without experiencing lots of rekindling, heartbreaks, fallout but also a shot at love. ᝰ childhood friends to lovers, college/professional sports au, romance, angst, pining, (slight) slow burn, pro-footballer!jake x pro-footballer afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK SUNGHOON

Insatiable by @moonhoures s. your vampire bf suddenly becomes clingy which can only mean he’s hungry or horny . . . or both ᝰ non-idol!au, vampire!au, smut, sunghoon x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

Fatal trouble by @gyuuberryy f. your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go. ᝰ roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au, vampire!sunghoon x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MS. & MR. President by @jlheon f. seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon ᝰ non-idol!au, frenemies to lovers, sunghoon x freader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE by @jaylver f, a. ★ Having a one night stand wasn’t your forte, but with the help of adrenaline, and most definitely not alcohol, you managed to rope yourself into one. Worst part of all was the fact that you didn’t even know his name! The only distinguishable part of him was his blinding white hair. You figured you will never see him again after, but you were so wrong. Your friend practically set you up for failure after convincing you to take her place on a blind date to try and drive the guy away, only for it to be the one you slept with, who also happened to be your mother’s best friend’s son that you met right before that.  ᝰ strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, comedy, slice of life, angst, (attempted) he fell first but she fell harder, slowburn-ish, ice hockey player!sunghoon x afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

RIKI NISHIMURA

supernova by @star-sim f,a,h. riki was the city's top hero, you were the top villain. when your archnemisis pulls up to your apartment late at night, all battered and bruised, you just sighed and took him in. you were a villain, not a monster! ᝰ hero! riki x femvillain! reader, superhero! au, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, a lil bit of angst .ᐟ₊ ⊹

duck by @jlheon f. you want a sonny angel hipper ᝰ Idol bf! nishimura riki x fem! reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MY FAVORITE AUTHORS THIS MONTH @jlheon ★ @jaylver ★ @gyuuberryy

[2readiscworld]

These were dangerous thoughts, Vimes knew. They were the kind that crept up on a watchman when the chase was over and it was just you and him, facing one another in that breathless little pinch between the crime and the punishment.

And maybe a watchman had seen civilization with the skin ripped off one time too many and stopped acting like a watchman and started acting like a normal human being and realized that the click of the crossbow or the sweep of the sword would make all the world so clean.

And you couldn't think like that, even about vampires. Even though they'd take the lives of other people because little lives don't matter and what the hell can we take away from them ?

And you couldn't think like that because they gave you a sword and a badge and that turned you into something else and that had to mean there were some thoughts you couldn't think.

Only crimes could take place in darkness.

Punishment had to be done in the light. That was the job of a good watchman, Carrot always said. To light a candle in the dark.

- Feet of Clay, Terry Pratchett

[suiana]

i was playing this Roblox game and saw this funny thing so imagine a yandere! giant who just thinks humans are so cute!

you're a human and live in a world where humans co-exist with other species. merfolk, vampires, giants... you name it, you have it. in any case, humans are considered cute to other creatures because of how... fragile they are.

i mean, you can't really argue with that. humans really are much more fragile as compared to other species. soft flesh, shorter lifespans...

so when your giant friend confesses that he is in love with you, you visibly take a step back and say:

"um, you should find another giant to be with."

it's not like you were being mean or anything either. you knew that while most creatures found humans to be cute, not many of them would want to be with a human. you've been asked out as a prank by too many other species (especially faes). if he got with you... the both of you would be scorn by others. you're just doing him a favour and telling him to find someone else.

physically, he was also two to three times your size! it would've never worked out anyway. and you don't even like him like that! there was no reason for you to accept his confession.

he doesn't seem to understand your rejection though.

"aw, humans are so cute! don't worry, i'll take care of you!"

"no, what? i don't-"

"haha! come here darling!"

...you blocked him and ran away.

what? it was a normal reaction! anyone would react like that if they got chased by a big, tall, beefy man! thankfully, you managed to hide away from him for a good bit. that is, until today.

you were out getting your groceries until you saw this... this huge ass giant that looked like he was starved for days.

him. he found you.

you immediately tried running back into your house, but it was too late. the second he saw you, he sprinted in your direction and tried to get to you by poking several holes with his arm into your house. it would've have been pretty comical to watch if YOU WEREN'T THE ONE INSIDE THE HOUSE.

you know how hamsters always stare in fear whenever their human tried to pick them out of their cage all while cooing and smiling at them? yeah, that was you. except you weren't a hamster. and the smile on your giant's face was absolutely horrifying.

yes, there was a smile on his face. but the delirious expression and flushed cheeks made him look like someone who escaped from the mental hospital.

"darling! ah, why'd you run away? i searched everywhere for you... to think you'd be living in such a small house... do you like dollhouses?"

no. he was just comically large and you weren't.

"please- ugh."

you stare at him as he pulls his arms out of your broken windows, heart calming down slightly. ah, at least he was- wait, wait, wait! your mouth drops in a mixture of fear? shock? as he removes the roof of your house with one hand and grabs you with the other.

"much better. let's go back home now, shall we?"

he smiles at you, patting your head before throwing your detached roof onto your... house that looks like it got ran through.

damn it... you couldn't even stay scared...

your house that you bought with your own money got absolutely massacred! this is a crime! a tragedy!

he'll pay for his actions... you'll make sure of it...

"aw, darling! you look like a cute hamster now! you're rubbing your hands together like you're plotting something evil haha!"

damn him!

[just-some-little-lads]

His Favorite Place to Kiss

Hey, all! First official post I've made for LaDS! So I'm sorry if the personalities aren't quite as spot on (I'll learn more about Xavier, I promise)! Can you tell who my favorite is? Oops. Second person POV and a gender neutral MC!

Xavier

Your eyelids. As a cozy lover himself, he adores the way you look so peaceful when you sleep. So cuddly and…perfect in his eyes, even if you can’t always see it yourself. Oftentimes, he finds he stays awake longer than normal when you relax so languidly beside him. All he wants is to take the stress and troubles away from your life. That way, you can look like this always. But he knows he’s not capable of shielding you all the time… So, in moments like these, he keeps you safe in his own arms, letting you escape into the comfort of a dream. Then he’ll take a moment, pressing whispers of a kiss to your closed eyelids while you rest. It’s a little ritual he does, hoping it’ll chase any nightmares away.

-

Zayne

Your forehead. It had started with checking your temperature; the back of his hand against your head. An overprotective gesture he’d do often outside of the hospital. One which you didn’t always mind since it was better than him carrying a thermometer on him at all times. The closer you got, the more the gesture shifted to him pressing his forehead against yours instead. Then eventually developed into a kiss. It’s a reassurance for him in a way. He loves being able to do something so loving and protective at the same time. He’ll lean down and spend a quiet moment kissing your forehead before placing his chin on the top of your head, bringing you in close. A much needed habit now. Knowing your temperature is normal is a sigh of relief as well. One less thing to worry about. Because seeing you in good health is his only real wish…

-

Rafayel

Your hands. An artist’s fascination with hands might seem like a cliché, but with him, it’s true. He takes very good care of his hands, needing them to hold paintbrushes after all. He’s always said that he can tell a lot of a person just from their fingers, and it’s hard to tell if he’s exaggerating his capabilities or if it’s another secret superpower of his. A lot of times, he’ll tease you over the callouses you have from your weapons, saying that he’d just die if something so unsightly happened to his. But there are plenty of days when you come in with cuts or bruised knuckles, making him freeze. He’ll hold your hands tenderly in his and kiss your palms. He claims there’s some sort of “magic” to it, but how cheesy is that? It’s even more cheesy to think that it sort of works…

-

Sylus

Your neck. He’ll say this loud and proudly with a bit of a tease in his tone. He’ll say it’s something about the way he likes to “dominate his prey” or whatever condescending nonsense he always blathers on about. He likes to laugh about the story he tried telling you a while ago, and how you related him to a vampire. The joke has gone rather far if that’s the case. What he won’t tell anyone is how absolutely dumbfounded he is every time he gets to kiss your neck. He knows how vulnerable of a spot it is, and he's more than well aware of the terrible things that could happen if someone were to take advantage of this weakness. And yet…you trust him. Despite the…’rocky’ beginning and the distrust and the constantly being on edge around each other, somehow he’d done enough to earn your favor. Part of him wants to teach you to better have your guard up, but he can’t do such a thing. Every time he plants his kiss against the side of your neck and all you do is laugh or hum, he wants to melt, to scoop you up into his arms and never let you go. And he likes when you touch his neck too…because it reminds him that he’s learned to trust someone again.

[smileyoongle]

Pairing- VampireKing!Jungkook × Human!Reader

Genre- Arranged Marriage AU (Sort of?), Enemies to Lovers, Soulmate AU

Summary- Jeon Jungkook was known to be a tyrant, destroying anything and everything to get what he wanted. And this time, he wanted you.

Warnings- Mentions of blood, gore and murder scenes, eventual smut, JK is definitely a hard dom and mad possessive, vampire bites and blood sucking.

A/N- Even though I have tagged the people who asked to be tagged, there will be no taglist for this series from here on. I only tagged you guys to sort of let you know this series has started. It's a big struggle to keep all those usernames up to date so you might wanna turn on the notifs :)

Please find the introduction to the world of Amour Mort here!

You ran through the forest, tears in your eyes making it difficult to see the path ahead, but you could tell you were venturing deeper into the more dangerous side. At the back of your mind, you were very aware that you shouldn’t be here past midnight, and that if someone found you breaking curfew, you would probably be executed by the throne, thinking you were some sort of rebel revolting in the recent uprisings. But all of that paled in comparison to the despair gnawing at your soul.

The branches clawed at your skin, leaving angry red marks, but you didn’t slow down, only realizing you had come here barefoot when tiny stones began hurting the bottom of your feet. You were being chased—not by a person, but by your own thoughts and the relentless ache in your chest. Your father’s words would not stop playing in your mind, your palms pressing against your ears as you closed your eyes in an attempt to silence his voice.

"You're nothing but a burden to me. I wish you had never been born!"

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through your right foot, sending you stumbling and falling to the ground with all the air being knocked out of your lungs. You winced, letting out a whimper as you managed to look back, gasping at the bear trap that had clamped around your foot. Its teeth dug into your flesh, and blood pooled on the dead leaves beneath you.

“No…” you cried out, sobbing at your misfortune, the pain from your wound shooting through your leg in waves. A thought came to you: maybe this is how you die, completely alone and unloved, with no one to care that you weren’t at home right now.

‘That’s not true! Lila cares…’

Your mind screamed at you, your sister’s pretty face popping into your head. Well, this was true; your sister did care about you. But really, there was only so much she could do when your father did not even acknowledge you as his daughter. You still remembered the party where a guest mistook you for a maiden working in the mansion. It had truly hurt you, but there was nothing you could say, not when that is probably what your father wanted the world to think. A part of you thinks he hates you because your mother died just five days after you were born, but how could you, a mere baby, be at fault for that?

Gathering all your energy, you began to drag yourself to a tree nearby, wincing and whimpering with every wave of pain that washed over you. You could even feel the burn on the skin of your forearms where it rubbed against the rocky and muddy ground, convinced that the sleeve of your dress was beginning to tear. Were you even going to make it back home? Did you even want to make it back home?

Upon reaching the giant tree, you pushed yourself up, managing to rest your back against the trunk, finally getting a good look at the steel trap wrapped around your foot. Meant for animals, it was likely a tool for the poorer vampires who couldn’t afford human slaves and fed on animal blood instead. It was the one law that favored humans: vampires were forbidden to feed on them freely. But nonetheless, it was always the innocent ones who had to pay the price. The night-walkers were given the gift of strength and brutality that they used against the weak, be it you or an animal.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, your breathing growing harsh, and your vision growing blurry. It was the blood loss, and you couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. Either you were getting used to it, or your body had started focusing on the fact that you were dying instead. Whatever was happening, it was not good, and you had no idea how to help yourself.

“You shouldn’t be here. Not at this time.” A voice broke through the darkness, making you jump in surprise, your eyes immediately landing on a man’s silhouette standing just a few steps away from you. Your heart hammered in your chest, and, swallowing thickly, you pressed yourself further against the tree, hoping that would make you disappear.

Was this someone who was going to turn you in? Maybe the cause of your death was going to be execution and not a bear trap?

Your silence only prompted the man to move closer to you and into the moonlight filtering through the trees, your lips parting as you took in his face. He was truly breathtaking, with black hair that fell across his forehead and eyes that seemed to pierce through the night. There was black ink peeking at you from under the collar of his black shirt on his neck, more patterns emerging from under his rolled-up sleeve right up to his knuckles, making you wonder just how much of his body was tainted like this.

“N-neither should you,” you said bravely, though your voice was small and weak.

He chuckled in response, making you purse your lips as you watched him kneel down beside you, your body subconsciously shifting backward even though there was nowhere to go, every single thought in your mind long gone in the presence of this man.

His eyes slowly moved across your body, taking in your tear-stained cheeks, your tattered dress, and your bloody foot, tutting at the condition of your wound.

“This is why you shouldn’t be here, little human,” he said, your eyes widening as you caught a hint of amusement on his face, your blood running cold at the realization. Your breath was caught in your throat, and you were suddenly very aware of the blood you were soaked in, your eyes nervously flitting between him and your poor foot. If you had to die, you didn’t want to do so at the hands of a vampire. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine the pain that was probably about to suffocate you when he ripped your heart right out of your chest.

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, staring into his eyes with tears in yours, shaking your head when he smirked and leaned in closer to you. Closing your eyes, you let the tears fall freely and turned your face away from him, his breath fanning your neck and making you whimper.

“You must taste exquisite.” He inhaled deeply, your chest heaving as his words made your heart thump harder in your chest. This has to be it. He was going to drain your body right now, and no one was going to find out ever.

Preparing yourself for the attack, you closed your eyes shut and gripped the skirt of your dress, thinking about your family for the last time before your life was taken from you.

“But I’m not going to do that.” Came his voice, your eyes slowly opening as you glanced over at him, noticing the sudden distance he had put between the two of you. A frown etched on your forehead, your tears drying up on your cheeks as you processed his words. He was not going to hurt you?

“I’m too old to lose control over a bit of blood.” He gestured nonchalantly towards your foot, shocking you at how he thought this was just a bit of blood. You were literally going to pass out soon.

“Wh-why are you here?” you stammered, biting your tongue when his expression hardened, his eyes sending daggers your way and letting you know that you shouldn’t have asked him that. Silence engulfed you both, your eyes failing to look away from him. It was almost as if he was holding you prisoner under his gaze, a flash of guilt disappearing from his dark eyes as soon as it came.

“I had to get away before they caught up to me,” he confessed, a cool breeze ruffling his hair as he stood up and stared down at you, his eyes reading the confusion in yours.

“Who-”

“My sins,” he responded before you could even ask, his thick boots crunching the leaves on the gravelly path as he walked in front of your stretched-out leg and sat down on one knee. A flash of lightning struck through the sky at that very second, as if to show that the heavens had heard his confession too. And when the thunder illuminated his face, you could swear you had seen the very face of evil.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked, tilting his head as you swallowed thickly, shaking your head hesitantly. But you knew he didn’t believe you when he let out a small laugh. It sounded bitter to your ears, like he was mocking you for being so weak yet trying to fool him at the same time.

“Well, you should be.” In one quick motion, his hand ripped apart the trap into two pieces, your flesh being freed from the sharp claws that were jammed into it. Dots filled your vision as your lips parted in a silent scream, your chest hurting as if you were having a heart attack, and maybe you were because you felt your body go limp as your eyes rolled back into your head.

Strong arms held you before you could hit the ground, your head suddenly resting against a firm chest as your breath came out all raggedy. You could feel sweat beading on your forehead, your body not having any energy to even let you open your eyes for a second.

“W-why…” you breathed out, your voice a bare whisper in the night. And the next thing you knew, you felt a hand pressing against your lips before a metallic taste filled your mouth. With all the energy left in you, you opened your eyes wide and grabbed the tattooed arm feeding you blood, your attempts at pushing it away failing miserably.

“Sshh, you need this. You need me,” the vampire whispered above you, his chin resting atop your head as he ran his free hand through your hair. Knowing that you couldn’t fight him off, not like this, you gave up and swallowed the disgusting liquid that made your body feel warm all of a sudden. You could hear your heart pumping and your breathing steadying as the blood worked its way into your system, your senses sharpening, and your strength slowly returning.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled his arm away, and you let out a string of coughs, gasping for air while the awful taste lingered on your tongue. It was truly ironic how the blood of someone dead could heal a living being. How a killer could give life to someone. And you were sure that this man who had saved your life was a killer too. Why else would he talk about his sins catching up to him?

“What did you do that you had to run away?” you asked as soon as you found your voice, your tired eyes glancing up at the man holding you. His eyes flitted between your eyes and your lips, sending shivers down your spine when he brought up his thumb and rubbed away some blood from the corner of your mouth.

“What’s your name?” He avoided your question smoothly, pretending you hadn’t spoken a word to him. Frowning, you thought about it for a moment, wondering whether it was a good idea to tell him who you were. But at the same time, you weren’t a very valuable human. There was really nothing he could want from you that would make him hunt you down.

“Y/N,” you said, averting your gaze to your foot, which was now void of any wounds. Your skin looked completely smooth and untouched except for the dried blood staining it, leaving you staring in awe.

“Well, Y/N,” he started, regaining your attention, “you’re gonna find out tomorrow.”

You frowned at his words, wondering if this implied that he was going to see you tomorrow to tell you what sin he had committed. Too lost in your head to notice that he had stood up, you saw him offer his hand to you. Your fingers hesitantly took hold of his cold ones. With ease, he pulled you up as you slightly lifted your dress and examined your foot, pleased with the fact that there was absolutely no pain anymore.

“This is-” You turned to glance at the man, only to be met with darkness. The vampire was gone, the forest was silent, and you were alone once again.

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @girl8890 @adasboredom @acrazybiotch374 @tutnotmytea @leilei-9 @yoonjinhusbands @kumakoyan @ttanniett

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Burn

My heart always hurts when I watch the cutscene where Astarion burns under the sun. Dammit Larian Studios

Summary: You chase after Astarion when he runs away from the rising sun and remind him that you chose him.

You watch as blue lines crawl across his skin, steam rising as the sun eats away at him once more, now that he is free of the parasite. You hear the panic and sadness in his voice as reality sets in — he is no longer immune to the sun, condemned forever to live in the shadows. His ruby red eyes lift to meet yours as his skin scorches, an apology falling from his lips and he rushes to find shelter before you can say anything.

“Astarion!” You shout, watching his fading figure. He doesn’t look back, of course he doesn’t, he doesn’t have the time to when all he can think about is how his skin is searing. Your other companions remain rooted but your legs find an extra burst of energy and soon you find yourself hot on your lover’s trail, desperate to find him.

“Astarion!” You call out, panting from the exertion. Running like that just after defeating a Netherbrain was not a good idea, and you can feel your head spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself and lean against the nearby wall, getting as much air into your lungs as possible.

“Astarion,” you gasp, forcing yourself to keep moving, telling yourself that the vampire was suffering more than you were. You stagger onwards, barely remembering where you last saw him and pray that he hasn’t gotten far.

You make your way to a stack of crates hidden behind a docked ship and find a figure huddled in the corner, shaking. You stumble towards the figure, fingers hastily fumbling for the clasp of your cloak which you throw around the figure’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Star,” you breathe, relieved. You feel his arms slide around your waist tentatively, cautiously hugging you back.

“Why are you here?” He whispers. The scent of your lifeblood fills his nose, causing fangs to peek out but he holds himself back, holds the hunger back.

“For you, of course.” You continue to hold onto him tightly. “I’m not leaving you alone, not ever.”

“Why?” He can feel you, feel your warmth, your touch, but a part of him still nags at him, trying to convince him that this is all just a dream, that you want nothing to do with him, not when he is confined to the darkness. He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in the fact that you’re here with him, that you came for him when you could be out in the new dawn with the others.

“Why? Because I love you, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t want a future without you.” Your fingers ghost over the burns, an ache in your heart when you see how badly the sun has burnt him. Even as the sun scorched him, he still took the time to apologise, to look you in the eye, to tell you of how much he enjoyed the journey.

“Even if it means being unable to live in the day? Being unable to feel the sun on your skin?” The words cause a lump to form in his throat. He wants to push you away, tell you to find someone else, someone better. You deserve so much better than whatever he can give you, you deserve to be able to live with the sun warming your skin, you deserve —

“Yes. I know what it means to be in a relationship with you, I know it means never seeing the sun again, never feeling its warmth, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” The fierce fire he fell in love with back then burns in your eyes, daring him to deny you your choice and he feels himself falling for you all over again.

Your devotion to the people you care about, the lengths you would go for each of them, the love you had for those around you. He had once found all these traits foolish, but now they were his saving line, the reason you were currently kneeling by his side, tenderly caressing the rough burnt skin of his cheek as you firmly declared your intent to remain by his side for the rest of your life.

You pull the cloak over his head and shoulders, ensuring they cover as much of his skin as possible.

“I look terrible, don’t I?” He gives a hollow laugh.

“And yet still so beautiful. It’s not fair how you can pull that off.” You chuckle, tilting your head to offer your neck to him.

“Drink up,” you say with a smile so bright it blinds him. “Then we’ll head back to Elfsong Tavern and discuss what to do next.”

He tugs at the cloak around him. It smells of you, the scent deep and warm. He buries himself in it, grateful for the protection it provides and gently rests his lips against your bare neck. His fangs prick your skin, and then dig deeper as blood begins to flow into his mouth. The cracking blue lines on his skin start to fade, his usual pale likeness coming back as he drinks your precious lifeblood, savouring every drop freely given.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your neck.

“Anytime,” you murmur back, holding him close. It always brings a sense of comfort, feeling him in your embrace, breathing in his scent. You hold him for a while longer, basking in the feeling of his cold undead skin against your warm living skin until the others find the both of you.

Your group makes its way back to Elfsong Tavern while shielding Astarion from the sun’s rays. The walk is filled with a quiet yet comfortable silence, exhaustion from the day’s fight and thoughts of the future that lay ahead setting in.

Everyone files into their own rooms, leaving you and Astarion standing in the corridor, facing one another.

“You really mean it?” He asks. He has to confirm, he has to make sure that he is making the right decision to entrust a part of his future to you.

“Mean what?” You tilt your head quizzically.

“That you don’t mind staying with me.” He shifts his weight from one leg to another, playing the corners of the cloak over his head.

“I mean it. We’ll find a way to get you walking in the sun again, and if we cannot, then I don’t mind spending the rest of my life in the shadows.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “You’re all I need, you’re all I want in this future of my choosing. I hope I’m in the future you choose as well.”

In the future he chooses? He…oh right. Cazador is dead, there is no master to tell him what to do, to control his every move. He can decide what he wants to do next, where he wants to go, who he chooses to spend his time with.

And he wants to spend it all with you.

“Of course you are, my love. There’s no one else I’d rather have.” He flashes his usual smile, eyes softening at the way you light up upon hearing his words.

“Then…let’s start planning it, together.”

“Together.” He agrees, liking the way his new future sounds. Even if he had to skulk in the shadows for eternity, maybe such a life wasn’t so bad with you around. He would have you to wake up to, be able to hold you, be loved by you, even if he had to burn under the sun.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[zaldritzosrose]

Sanguine Obsession (Vampire!Aemond x Human!Reader)

Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

All boards included are made by yours truly!

Summary: The Targaryens are well known for their supernatural existence, and you are one of many brought into the service of Prince Aemond - a vampire. When you moon's blood surprises you, the Prince acts in a way you could never have expected.

TW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of vampiric feeding, mentions of blood, menophilia (period kink), oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, Aemond as a vampire (could be a warning in and of itself), period sex.

Words: 3088

Serving Prince Aemond Targaryen was an honour, to you and your family at least. On the outside, the Targaryens were ordinary royals, save for the dragon riding, of course.

But there was something deeper and darker within the family. Like a dark shadow that hung over the Red Keep, an apt name for the home of supernatural beings. The Targaryens had ruled through blood and immortality for centuries, and you were not the first to serve the One-Eyed Prince. Not all the dragon-blooded royals were vampiric, though each one of them was not entirely human.

The call had come just less than a month ago. A letter bearing the seal of House Targaryen arriving to your father. Though it was phrased as a question, it was clear there was only one answer to the request.

We request your eldest daughter to serve at the side of Prince Aemond, as have many that have come before her. She will be well cared for and protected whilst in the Prince’s service.

Your father had not hesitated. Informing you immediately that preparations were to be made for your travel to the capital.

Now, it was almost two full months since you had arrived at the Keep. Prince Aemond was stoic, but not unkind. In fact, you had soon found his presence an odd comfort. Sitting with him in the library as he read, fetching whichever book he needed. Watching him train under the shadow of the evening, becoming his most fervent supporter every time.

You had known what the Targaryens were before you came into the Prince’s service. Every citizen in Westeros knew, it was not a secret they kept hidden. The family mostly kept stores of blood within the Keep, preferring the convenience of it over hunting. Others, however, chose to hunt, choosing their prey and hunting ground carefully to avoid large populations.

Prince Aemond was the latter. Choosing to hunt wherever he could but there was one task he had never forced upon you. There were times when the Prince was unable to hunt, and he always seemed dissatisfied with drinking stored blood from a goblet. He never said it openly, but the prince enjoyed the chase, the feeling of bringing down his prey and feeding fresh.

In those times, you could see the war in him. When he would look at you with a hunger, or more specifically your throat. Watching the pulse of your veins when you would lean close to hand him his next cup. And eventually, you had picked up the courage to ask.

“My prince, if there is something else you need of me, please say?” you had asked softly, trying to keep your nerve.

Aemond had only hummed low, a sound you were so used to hearing, but you knew he was avoiding answering you.

You had knelt at his side, hands resting on the arm of his chair.

“Please, I feel I know what it is you need. You have not been able to hunt for weeks…”

That had been the push he had needed. From then on, when he could not hunt, he would ask to feed from you. And you agreed, every time. Finding yourself often curled in the Prince’s lap as he sank his teeth into your flesh and drank his fill. He was always gentle during these times, the way he would hold you as he fed bordering on romance. Always in his embrace, bodies pressed impossibly close.

Even the Prince would eventually admit, you were the first of his servants that had ever offered their blood to him, an act that had both shocked and enamoured him to you. But he had never admitted that this act of service had, without a doubt, furthered the desire he had felt the moment he saw you.

For the first month of your service, you had managed to avoid the Prince during your moon’s blood. Seemingly coinciding with his hunting routine. His mother and sister had helped you stay out of his presence by claiming to need you for other tasks. He had never questioned it, with his mother explaining that he knew the reason, and understood why they took such measures.

This month, however, you were unprepared. The Queen and the Princess were visiting their Hightower kin in Oldtown. There was no one around to help you with the unexpected surprise. You tried your best to complete your tasks for the Prince while spending as little time in his presence as possible. Something he noticed immediately.

Every morning you would hide spare smallclothes within your gown, knowing that at any point in the day you might need them. Taking extra rags from the Maester to make sure you did not risk leaving the blood-stained cloth on your body too long.

But what you did not know was that Aemond had noticed. In reality, he could smell it days before you bled. A small change in scent that told him what was to come. He did his best, this time, to ignore it. Knowing you had no choice but to remain at his side. He was not due to hunt for another two days. But the scent of you was becoming more and more tempting.

It all came to a head when you did not appear in the library that morning. Aemond always read during the daytime, the library drapes heavy enough to block out all the sunlight. He gave you a little time, knowing from his books that a woman’s bloods could take a toll physically and he knew better than to expect you to ignore your own health for his sake.

But when another hour passed, he felt concern gnawing at him. Closing his book, Aemond made quick work of the walk to your chambers. He had not even reached the door before he could smell it.

The coppery scent filling his nostrils and making his mouth water. He stood stock still at your door, his thirst begging him to enter and take his fill. But his concern for you demanded he find a way to fix whatever had made you late.

“My lady?” was all he could muster, his hand resting on the handle.

Inside, you froze. That morning you had woken to what could only be described as a bloodbath. The deep red liquid having stained your sheets and nightgown through the night. Cleaning up the aftermath was taking far longer than you expected.

“M-My Prince, I…Please do not come in,” Your voice was frantic as you folded the soiled sheets and stuffed them into the sack you would take down to the washroom.

Just the tone of your voice had Aemond even more concerned. The need for politeness soon lost to his concern as he pushed the door open despite your protests. When he entered, the scent near overtook him. And not just the blood. A smell akin to fear on you.”

“I…” You could not form a single word. There seemed to be no connection between your mind and your mouth.

Aemond’s jaw locked tight, doing everything he could not to inhale if he did not need to. His eye scanned the room. The scent lingered at the sack by the door, which he assumed held your sheets. But the copper tang was greatest around you, and he could see the scrubbed spots where you had tried to clean your stained skin.

“You are…bleeding.” He said, barely forming it as a question, his voice tight with restraint.

You could see the faint push of his fangs against his lip as he spoke. A sight you only saw moments before he would feed from you. In this moment, it was the first time you seemed to fear him.

“I apologise…I..I tried to clean it but…”

The words died on your lips when you saw Aemond staring only at your stained nightdress. The memory of your conversation with his mother ringing in your mind.

“One thing you must know, my dear, your moon’s blood will smell far different to the blood that flows in your veins. It will be much more intense of a scent. More enticing,” the Queen explained before continuing on with the plans they had in place to help female servants of the family during that time of the month.

Now, it all made sense. You had never seen Aemond like this, except when his teeth were pierced deep into your neck, or any other flesh he had chosen for a feed. Yet, you still felt no true fear. Nothing about the Prince had ever caused that feeling in you.

Aemond however, had no thought in his mind except your scent. The deep red that stained your skin. The points of his fangs almost piercing his teeth in preparation of drinking.

“Is this why you were late this morning?” he asked, his eye finally meeting yours, the pupil blown wide, eclipsing the ice blue of his iris. All the air left your lungs and your hesitation seemed to frustrate him.

“Answer me,” he growled, taking a purposeful step towards you.

“Yes, my prince. It was unexpected, and I could not leave behind such a mess and there was no time to clean...”

You were stopped short when Aemond closed the distance between you. You would often forget he was not human, but the speed at which he appeared in front of you abruptly reminded you of it. You held your breath as his head dipped to press his nose against your neck. You could feel the puffs of air on your neck as he seemed to fight himself for control.

“I could smell it. Every moment for the last three days…”

The curve of his nose pressed against your neck, nuzzling over the spot he had bit you so many times before. And you could not hide your shiver as he growled again.

“You smell so sweet…”

You wanted to move, to back away and put as much space between you and the Prince as you could. But your body was working against you. Instead, leaning closer into his form as he breathed you in again.

It was only when you whimpered as the sharp, cramping pain in your lower body reared itself again, that Aemond snapped out of his reverie.

“It hurts, does it not?” he asked, and you could only nod, feeling Aemond smile against the skin of your neck. His entire presence was intoxicating, and every ounce of self-preservation had long left you.

“There are ways to relieve the pain. I read about them, fascinating really,” he mused, and you opened your mouth to ask what he could possibly mean.

You had an inkling, having read some books yourself. And the implication of what he was referring to had your heart hammering in your chest.

Aemond’s arm snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. The bloodthirst inside him threatened to take over with every second he was close to you. You were almost hypnotised by him, wondering if this is how his victims felt when he hunted them down. Hazy, drawn into his embrace without any control of their actions.

Your silence made him chuckle, and he could already smell not only the blood but the slick that pooled between your thighs at his touch.

“Do you want me to help, sweet girl?” Aemond whispered, his lips now brushing against the skin of your ear.

You nodded gently but that was not enough for him.

“Words, I need your words,” His tone now a little more of a command than before.

You swallowed loud before answering, your voice barely more than a breathy sigh.

“Yes, my prince.”

That was all he needed. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he walked you back towards your bed. The sheets had been hastily changed moments before Aemond had entered your room, but that seemed to matter little.

Aemond made quick work of your nightdress, making your breath hitch when he pressed his nose into the sanguine stains. And the groan he released at the heady scent had your thighs clenching together. The dress was quickly discarded as Aemond returned his attention to you.

It was only then that you became quickly aware that you were entirely bare whilst Aemond was still fully clothed. Before you could even reach out for the clasps on his leather tunic, Aemond had the garment tugged open and on the floor, leaving him in only his light shirt and breeches. It was not the first time you had seen him dressed more casually, there were times you would enter his chamber of a morning or after he had trained to see him dressed quiet casually.

But this, without a doubt, was different.

“The books say,” Aemond began, using some of his vampiric strength to move you with ease up the bed, “that finding your release helps with the pain of a moon’s blood…”

You bit back a moan as he spread your thighs, the coolness of his skin quickly soothing the warmth in your body that was always brought on by your monthly bleed. Aemond hummed to himself as the full scent of you was revealed to him, his mouth watering as he saw the sticky trails of your bleed on the skin of your thighs and the flesh of your core.

“My prince…” you whined, not really sure anymore what you were asking for.

You wanted to hide yourself from his gaze, feeling like prey trapped in the claws of a predator, that singular blue iris staring you down as he took a deep inhale. Just his closeness was enough to distract you from the dull ache of the muscles in your hips and down. Aemond, on the other hand, was drunk on your scent alone, the sweet, metallic tang filling his nostrils and making his head spin.

You gasped at the cool touch of his fingers against your slit, tensing as he dipped an experimental finger in between your folds. Taking his time and letting your body relax into the intrusion. It went against everything he was to not devour you there and then. His mouth watering the closer he got.

His fingers pushed inside you slowly, his eye staring intently as the mix of your blood and slick pooled around his fingers with each movement. Aemond could already feel you relaxing, the muscles in your thighs already less tense on either side of his head.

But he needed more. The beast within crying out for a taste. Warring with the human need to bring you as much pleasure as he could. He had always found you beautiful and the dutiful way you served him was simply an extra boon.

“Will you allow me a taste, sweet girl? Let me bring us both satisfaction?”

His voice was so low and so smooth it had you sighing out in pleasure. Your hips already canting themselves closer to him.

“Yes, please,” you said softly, eyes already closing as Aemond’s fingers trailed small patterns either side of where you needed him most. Never close to where you needed him.

His eye found yours, and the look told you that he needed something else.

“My…my prince please, I need it...I need you…” you begged, the only thought in your head now was feeling him.

You felt him smirk against your skin as his title fell from your lips. He could get used to hearing it that way, so soft and breathy with pleasure.

You had anticipated either the return of his fingers or even the feel of his tongue. Instead, you felt the push of his face against you, burying his face as close as he could get. As if he wanted nothing more than to inhale the scent of you. But you could not hide the depraved moan that slipped from your lips when his tongue finally breached your entrance.

Aemond groaned against you. He had tasted your blood before, but nothing like this. It was like he was consuming the very essence of you. Everything tasted stronger and it took every ounce of control he had to not sink his teeth in as well. The wet sounds of his tongue between your folds should have made you blush, but you were too lost in your pleasure. His hands held your hips tight, planting you to the bed as he devoured your bleeding cunt.

“Yes, oh, my prince…oh…” Your words verged on incoherent but every time his title spilled from you, Aemond growled and renewed his movements with even more vigour.

Soon you were arching your back, pushing your hips down towards him before Aemond’s hands planted you back to the bed. His grip was strong, tugging you down and burying his tongue as deep as it would go. Lapping up everything you gave him. He could feel your blood and arousal spilling down his chin as you reach your peak, soaking into the fabric of his undershirt. But he could not get enough. Only when he could feel you desperately try to pull away did he slow himself down.

“That’s it…oh my sweet girl…” he cooed, pressing blood tinted kisses to your thighs before pulling away.

You were lost. Head hazy and heart hammering as you slowly came down from your high. And your cheeks flushed as you locked eyes with your Prince. His icy iris staring up at you, pale skin stained the deepest red with the mix of your blood and your juices.

Aemond softened when he saw your body relax. He was as satisfied as you were now. His pleasure was your pleasure. His fingers were quick to bring the wayward drips from his lips and chin to his mouth, not wasting a drop. Your taste was like nothing he had experienced, even now. He had never fed this way before, and he was already desperate to do so again.

“Do you feel better?”

The question made you sit up on your elbows and you could not help but smile down at him. The ache in your thighs and stomach was gone. Your body flushed but relaxed.

“Yes, my prince, thank you,”

Aemond crawled up your body, bringing you close and urging you to curl into him. Now, it was his turn to serve you. His loyal servant, more than deserving of the same care in return. And he internally vowed to keep you at his side, especially during your bloods. He could not deny it.

He was obsessed.

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @khaleesihel @multyfangirl

@thenameswinter99 @legitalicat @tumblin-theworldaway

if you want to be tagged, please let me know!

[chososdiscordkitten]

Bite me.

Synopsis:Choso tastes readers blood for the first time >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Pairing: Vampire!Choso x fem!reader Content: porn w/plot, established relationship, blood (duh), biting, missionary, spit stuff, blood stuff, cream pie

MDNI

The little secret Choso had was supposed to stay just that- a secret. A secret pushed to the back of his mind- too shamed and fearful of what could happen had you found out. 

But there were times Choso swore you knew. When you’d carelessly brush your hair onto one side, giving his teeth full access to the tastiest part of you. Even if to the bare eye it wasn’t noticeable, he could see the thick stream of blood in your jugular pulse whenever he looked at it. 

As though you were begging him to sink his teeth into your skin without words. 

His suspicions only grew when you would ask questions in an insinuating tone. Why the brown of his eyes had a sprinkle of crimson in them, why at times he would show up to your apartment- his lips lightly stained in a distant red. And why he had a metallic scent to him every now and then. 

And most of all- why he would look at you like you were a meal to be had. 

And with the blooming relationship between you and him, you simply blamed it on something all humans feel—something a man would feel when looking at a person he had an interest in. 

But to him, Choso never picked apart the reasons why he wanted to drink from you. The only way he could describe it was starvation that couldn’t be satiated even with stolen blood bags. A hunger that Choso felt rumble his very soul when he looked at you. 

And he would push that feeling down- too fearful of the risk of tasting you and the inability to stop, making him wish he was never plagued with such a disease. 

That hunger roused in his heart the very first time you kissed him. Along with the itching feeling of a new kind of hunger. Desperately chasing the warmth your lips pressed onto his cold skin. 

That very same warmth that reminded him that you were filled with the cerise liquid he dreamt of. 

You had your own suspicions. Sure, Choso was a little strange at times. Specific phrases indicating he had claimed you, at once even saying how fucking good you smelled first thing in the morning. It made you squint- and tilt your head in the slightest.

But maybe he just couldn’t formulate ‘normal compliments’ that you had heard before. Instead of strange, you saw it as endearing when he would say those kinds of things. 

But when Choso spoke as though he were from another time, his brown eyes blotted with deep red spots. How his pupils would pulse when you looked a little too closely into them. He could go in the sun, but rare were the times he would.

 The time you nicked yourself while mincing vegetables- he ran up to help. At first, with all the urgency of the world- grabbing your finger and scolding you for being so careless. 

And holding your lightly oozing digit in his hand, he would watch the cherry blood seep from your tissue. And god- your scent stuck in his nose the longer he held you. And when the smell flooded his brain- hazing any reservations he had. 

Choso lifted the tip of your finger to his lips- flashing them up at you only for you to snatch your hand away from him- muttering something about how it would get infected before wrapping it up.

How his cold hands would cling to you and feel the humanity pulse through your veins. The overwhelming urge to have you, have you moved into his place- far too precious to leave you on your own. 

If he, himself- your boyfriend was having these carnal urges to do these things to you- to taste you. What would another person do to you? 

And Choso, when the realization that you would be sleeping beside him- thick thighs bare and your neck exposed, along with the pulse in your wrist. In deep sleep- unaware of the starved creature lying beside you. 

That’s when Choso realized just how masochistic he was being.

He loved you more than enough to endure the rowling thoughts in his mind- enough to stay awake and watch you. Even if he closed his eyes and tried to ignore it- he could hear the liters of blood pulse beneath your skin. Choso endured it as much as he could. 

And with you moving in, it made it harder to hide that secret. Why there was a mini fridge with a lock on it, stuffed full of blood bags—Choso was sure you would find any day now. 

So when it came to the late-night activities only done in the bedroom- as though your bare skin begged for his teeth all over your body. Choso could feel two kinds of hunger pulse beneath his skin when he first touched you.

Even more so when your bare body was pressed against his- unknowing of the torment the act inflicted onto him. The plush warmth that would surround his member, reminding him that you were filled with the tantalizing red liquid everytime he pushed himself into you. 

It ate away at him. It felt like a lie- the idea that you’d look at him as a monster had he told you plagued him.

But he feared you finding the bags and seeing him as a serial killer- or a madman, and losing you before he could explain what he was. 

So he sat you down- hoping you’d have an open mind when he dared say the words. 

Sitting on the couch, his cold hands holding yours. You found it odd—rare were the times Choso held that much severity in his eyes when he spoke to you. 

You smiled genuinely, unknowing what he had to be so serious about. 

His thumbs lightly caressed the tops of your hands. “Do you remember when he watched that movie—with the strange girl and the man who played Batman?” 

You squint your eyes. “Twilight?” His cold thumbs halt their caresses, looking at you seriously with a soft nod. 

Choso started stuttering over his words- saying that he was like that man, but it was different. Words were spewed from his throat, throwing them at you and hoping you would understand. Confessing this greatest sin that had eaten away at him from the moment of meeting you. 

You only raised your eyebrows- hearing the blathering go on and on. Only for your eyes to squint, “Are you trying to tell me you’re a….” hesitating, knowing how insane it would have sounded. 

Choso only nodded, looking down at your hands with a little laugh falling from your lips. “Is this some kind of roleplay you wanted to try?” You joked, watching his face fall from its severity and mumble a small ‘no.’

“First of all- if you were, you wouldn’t be living with me. You’d be off in Rome living in a castle-” Leaning back onto the couch with an unbelieving smile. “And your teeth aren’t pointy.” you giggled, watching the man before you look at you with sorry eyes. 

He parted his lips to speak- “And? I’ve literally seen you go into the sun.” pulling your hands from his and crossing them across your chest. 

“I don’t know how to explain it to you—I can barely comprehend it myself,” he defended, watching your face wear an unamused look. 

You pursed your lips, sarcastically saying, “Start with proof—how ’bout that?” Bored of this larping Choso decided to start. 

Choso pulled his lips to the side, thinking of his least jarring approach. Proof- there was a lot of, but he tried finding the least callous one to show you.

He parted his lips, lightly bearing his top row of teeth with a little huff falling from your throat- seeing the unsharpened canines look back at you. 

Choso thought back to you- closing his eyes and recalling your blood’s metallic scent when he almost lost himself in it. He could hear your steady heartbeat quicken when the pearly canines grew slightly- pointed downwards with a sharp end. 

You scoffed- refusing to believe his attempts at a joke. And as though he could hear your thoughts- claims that this had to be some parlor trick. He reached from your hand, placing it onto his chin and urging you to touch. 

Gulping lightly when his voice rumbled from his throat, “Touch them- they’re real.” 

And as your thumb lightly grazed his bottom lip, you leaned in closer with squinted eyes. Lightly pressing the pad of your thumb against the pointy tooth, unknowing how hard Choso’s heart was beating in that moment. 

You slid your thumb down the tooth, pressing up into the pointed edge with a wince. Pulling away, you looked at the little prick on your thumb. 

You parted your lips to speak, only for Choso to beat you to it. “And-” he muttered, placing his hands on the side of your head and pulling you close to him- looking into your eyes. Far too close and watching the little pupils dilate- the color around them slightly swirling with splotches of red.  

Choso pressed his lips against yours- knowing he had drunk earlier. Pulling away from you and watching your smug expression fade- “Taste it-” he muttered, pressing his lips onto yours again.

And as you allowed his tongue to press against yours- you could taste what he was referring to. The light flavor of metal mixed with his spit. Pulling away from you and holding your head with urge- “Do you taste it?” he muttered, his lips lightly brushing against yours with every word. 

Too in awe and bordering on fear- you only looked into his eyes with a hint of suspicion. 

Standing up and taking your hand- guiding you to that little locked mini fridge and yanking off the lock. Too much urgency and frustration to go find the key. 

He showed you another form of proof he was, as he claimed—his strength. Sure, you knew he was strong—able to manhandle you with ease, leaving light bruises on your skin whenever he would get too rough, able to bring in all the groceries in one trip. You blamed it on his physique, knowing he was beautifully sculpted beneath his loose-fitting clothing. 

But this—pulling a metal lock from a metal hinge without any resistance or even a grunt of struggle leaving his lips. Made you wonder just how strong he was—and how much he was holding back before now.

All of that was proof enough- but the sight of neatly stacked blood bags confirmed it. You stood there for a second- looking at the crimson bags of plastic and feeling Choso’s gaze on your skin. Suddenly, too aware of how vulturous it felt. Before, it felt admiration-filled. It felt like a gaze full of love.

But now it felt like he was looking at you with appetite. 

Your heartbeat beating quickly made Choso realize you took this seriously now. You looked over at him- face deadpan with your eyes hinting to fear. “You don’t- eat people, right?” you muttered, a scared tone infiltrating his ears. 

Choso looked down to the ground, “Not currently, no.” he confessed, hearing your hand lightly close the little door of the minifridge and gulp. 

“Are you gonna eat me?” you asked, causing his eyes to flash back up to you in fear. 

He knit his eyebrows and took your hands in his again, “I would never eat you.” he vowed, looking into your eyes. 

“Have you thought about it?” you murmured, watching his eyebrows pinch in shame. 

“it’s hard not to,” he confessed, watching your head lightly nod. 

And with a light inhale- you walked back onto the couch, watching him sit on the other end as you stared at him. A million questions whirring in your mind as he shifted in your gaze. Wishing he could hear what you were thinking. 

Somehow, still trying to justify the proof you asked for; just more larping, he’s a weirdo- or a psychopath. But that softness in his eyes- gave you a reason to try and ignore the proof. 

You stared at him for a few minutes, trying to find the words to say- or an excuse to leave the apartment and run. 

And when you were finally able to conjure the words, “Can I ask questions?” you peered, your face stoic and unshowing how hard your heart was beating. Choso nodded his head ‘yes’- knowing the truth of what he just confessed must feel like a lie. 

In a world of fictional demons and countless books written with blood sucking people- it was fair that you had your suspicions. 

Choso knew—he watched those very movies with you, holding back comments like ‘that’s not true’ whenever an incorrect fact was spoken in the films.

Even if you held a deadpan expression, your heartbeat gave away how you truly felt, “For how long have you been,” stopping your sentence short and thinking on what word to use. 

“Since the 1870’s.” he spoke honestly. 

You peeked your eyebrows- mentally doing the math and taking a long blink. “That would make you-”

“175 years old.”

You lightly grimaced, thinking back on every time he would say some timely word you had only heard in the black-and-white movies you’d watch with him. “Why are you here—with me?” you reiterated, watching his avoidant eyes look down at his hands. 

“I mean, it must be torture,” you muttered, thinking of the difficulty shown in every movie with this exact plot line. 

Choso looked up at you. “At times, it can be.” He lightly nodded, being able to hear your heartbeat slow in the slightest. “But I know I would never hurt you.” 

After a handful more questions; if he preferred a specific kind of blood, what kind of people tasted better. Your heartbeat fell back into its normal state. 

There was an adjustment period- asking if you could sleep on the couch rather than next to him. Not scared- but nervous to sleep next to him. And Choso being the man he was- he took that responsibility and slept on the couch for as long as you asked. 

But then came the moment of acceptance- and Choso swore you started doing these things on purpose. Pulling your hair back and giving him a complete view of your neck. As controlled as his bloodlust was- it was still obscene how thirsty he got looking at you. And something carnal threatened to control his actions rather than his head. 

And times when he would hug you- getting a nose full of that sweet scent that seeped from your skin. Or when you started sleeping in tank tops- exposing more of your skin to him as you slept. Helpless and too tired to notice his heavy gaze on your collarbones. 

It also didn’t help when you realized that Choso was turned when he was a few years older than you— it hit you like a truck. 

Fearing to get older than the age he was when he was turned. Then came the talk of if he would turn you. 

When Choso thought about it- he wasn’t like any other protagonist in any vampire media. Choso was selfish and afraid of the day when you’d die- leaving him to roam the earth alone again. 

“It isn’t as simple as just turning you,” he muttered, knowing what it meant when someone like him turned their partner. That’s the only part the stupid films got correct.

Sat on the kitchen counter and watching him patter through the kitchen- cooking you a meal as you pestered him with the same question. “You mean the whole- once I turn, we’re supposed to stay together forever?” you asked, unamused with the doubt he held. 

“That- and technically, you’d be soulless,” he muttered as you let out a small laugh. 

“Of all people- you are the last one I would describe as soulless, Choso.” 

You scoffed, pulling your hair to the side and watching his shoulders tense up. Slightly tilting your neck and looking at him- “Is it not tempting?” You whispered in a taunt, watching his eyes flash to the smooth skin you displayed for him. 

Thinking the way it worked was the same as the Twilight movies- one bite and you’d be turned, right? 

Only your offerings meant nothing but a way of tasting you. Choso knew you wouldn’t become as he was from one bite. But christ- it was tempting. 

It made his brain throb in his skull, being able to hear every little pulse your neck pumped with crimson. “It doesn’t work like that.” he muttered, stepping away from the stove and taking a step towards you. 

“Still, you never wanted to taste it-” his hips easing between your thighs, placing his cold hands against the sides of your thighs. “You never wanted to taste me?” you whispered, his eyes blinking down to the exposed skin of your neck and gulping. 

Choso’s hands gripped lightly at your thighs, almost bracing for what he was about to say- “I don’t want to hurt you.” he breathed, his eyes dark and full of want. 

“You can control yourself, right?” you whispered, his head nodding softly. “Think about it- once I turn, you’ll never be able to taste me.” tone full of feigned pity, knowing he would turn you- even if he hadn’t said it yet.

Choso’s lips parted slightly and his mouth went dry. The thought pained his heart- knowing you had a point. “‘Lemme think about it.” he muttered, kissing your cheek quickly before turning back to the pan on the stove. 

You sighed a drawn-out breath, “Dunno how you do it,” you muttered, watching his shoulders fall from tension. “If you were begging me to bite you- to taste you.” you exhaled sharply, “I wouldn’t have made you ask twice.” 

And he did think about it- weighing out the options in his brain. How bad it would actually be if he tasted you- ’cause that’s all you offered. Just a taste, but with how sweet you smelled- Choso wasn’t sure that 'ust a taste' would be enough for him. 

That paired with the pain you would feel, two sharp teeth sinking into your skin- Choso had no idea why you would keep offering. Why you kept provoking him to hurt you. 

So one late night, your hands drawing searing touches onto Choso’s skin with your lips softly peppering kisses onto his cheek.  

Most of the time, it was you who would instigate these activities. Too afraid to hurt you had Choso not kept his hands to himself. 

However, this was the first time you instigated these acts after he confessed his secret to you. And still- Choso tried keeping his hands to himself, even if your own were daring to slip past the band of his sweats. 

Topless and on your back, legs spread with his hips daring to rut into your clothed core. You raised a hand beneath the hem of his t-shirt, lightly grazing his back with your nails and kissing his ear lightly. 

“Touch me-” you whispered into his ear, intent and urge soaking your words as his hands roam up your thighs. 

A soft whimper left his lips at your words- his mind reeling at the fact that you were aware of the kind of monster he was, and you still wanted his touch. 

His lips lightly pressed kisses onto your jugular- holding all the restraint he could as he felt the pulse of life beneath your skin. Your hands tugging at the fabric on his back in desperation- his hips responding by bucking into the clothing separating him from your warmth. 

Taking a hand from your hip and placing it onto the band of your bottoms- sinking his fingers beneath the layers and to your soaked cunt. Showing him just how negligent he had been since he confessed to you. 

A light whimper left your lips as he pulled his own from your neck, too tempted by the vulnerability to keep himself there. 

The tips of his middle and ring fingers sink down to the source of your slick- lightly circling at your entrance and coating them before trailing them to the puffy bud atop. 

Placing your lips on his again- desperate to relieve the ache between your legs as your tongue swirled against his. The distant taste of metal in his mouth as your eyebrows knitted together. His eager fingers started small circles against you, his hips mindlessly bucking into the air between you as your moans rumbled onto his lips.

It was agonizing the pace Choso tried keeping- your walls so desperate to pull him between them and feel him thrust. 

The light touch his fingers kept only made your hips buck into his hand- gasping between every other kiss at the pressure. The grip his other hand held on your side- bordering on bruising from how frustrated he was starting to feel. 

Beneath the layers of fabric- throbbing tears soiling his bottoms with every light roll his hips made to relieve the yearning his cock felt. 

You tried holding out- suffered sighs of frustrations leaving your lips as his hand continued its snail pace. 

But the ache you felt- Choso’s fingers only taunted it. So as you pulled away from him- looking into the mix of brown and red eyes staring back at you, “Need you inside-” you murmured with need, your words filling the air between your lips and his as your hands pushed down the band of his sweats. 

The tips of your fingers pressing against the side of his thigh- almost as a plea. 

And as you asked of him, Choso clashed his lips back to yours as he removed his hand from your bottoms- his hands full of desire as they pulled your pj bottoms off. Far too eager and desperate to grant your wish with the sweet scent of your skin filling the air- muddying his mind as your hands assisted in removing his bottoms. 

Tugging at the hem of his shirt with his chest heaving- watching his hands remove the useless fabric and toss it aside. A small groan of appeasement left your lips as you got an eyeful of his sculpted torso. 

Wasting no time in placing your hands on his hips, guiding him to ease himself back where he was before. Choso’s cockhead bordered on turning a violent shade of red as his hands found their place on your hips. 

Your hand reaching for is base- urging him to sink into you as you had asked. Choso’s mind was hazy, unable to think as he looked down to the millimeters of space separating his cock from your entrance. 

Your bare skin secreting the aroma the cause of the misty state his brain was in. Feeling the light pang of his canines that threatened to grow- a telltale sign he wanted to feed. 

His hips followed the guidance your hand led him to, sucking air sharply through his teeth as your warmth surrounded the tip of his aching cock. The alarming rate of your heartbeat causes his eyes to blink back at you. 

Wearing a desperate expression and a trembling lip- your mouth whispering muddy words in a silent plea. 

And as your hand eased off his cock- Choso’s hips moved forwards, nuzzling his tip further into you as he closed his lips. Avoiding your gaze with his eyes shut tight- trying to hold back every urge that pulsed in his head. 

His hips started slow strokes, easing himself out of you with a sigh of desperation. And your cunt tried with all its might to suck him back in, and Choso- not knowing how much longer he could keep his urges at bay, was so fucking close to rutting into you again- quicker and without hesitation. 

Your hands clawed at his biceps, drawing him from the focus he tried holding. Soft moans escaped your plush lips when the tip of his cockhead nudged against the most sensitive spot inside of you.

Choso raised his head to face you- his mouth parted and his eyebrows pinched tightly. Your eyes caught onto the glistening peaks of white that Choso’s lips tried hiding, eyes full of hunger and thirst. 

His hand rose from your hip and landed on your neck, feeling the warmth course beneath his grasp. Some way of bracing himself as he fought off the impulse.

Your hand trailed up his shoulder, landing on his nape and lightly pulling his ear to your lips. With a tone that sounded like the very gates of heaven to his ears, “Bite me.” you whispered, your hand guiding his head down to your neck where his lips previously kissed. 

Choso’s mind was too foggy to even focus on his past reservations. The hand at his back clawing gently, your cunt surrounding his cock, the light hold your hand held on his scalp; made Choso yield the very last of his will over to you. 

Closing his eyes as his nose engulfed the scent of your skin, his hips losing pattern in the slow strokes he held. Parting his lips and placing a wet kiss onto the place his teeth ached for. 

The light moans leaving your lips were heard as an urgency to his ears, bearing his teeth and lightly grazing the sharp canines against your skin. A shiver settling in your spine at the feather-like scratch. 

Choso’s teeth sinking into your skin with a wince mixed with a gasp falling from your lips. The groan Choso rumbled against the punctures made your hand lightly pull on his hair, tucking your lip between your teeth at the sting, losing the feeling of it as it mixed with the pleasure from his cock. 

Choso almost came when your taste waved into his mouth. His thrusts sloppy as the saccharine taste of you trickled down his throat- warm, unlike the countless blood bags he had sustained himself on. And sweet- so fucking sweet.

Eyes closed and bordering on rolling to the back of his head with his hips quickening. 

Then the reminder of, ‘just a taste’ rumbled in his mind. Unsheathing his sharp teeth from your skin and opening his eyes. Looking back to you- small trickles of blood on his lip with a look of fear in his eyes. His breathing labored and trying to hold back the throaty whines that dared leave his lips. 

You moaned lightly- pulling his lips back to yours and tasting yourself on him. Uncaring of the strong taste of metal, you slathered your tongue against his, sloppy and inconsistent. Mostly sharp teeth clashing against your own as your essence laced his spit. 

Your hold on his hair strengthened, a mess forming between your lips and his. Your eyes squinting tightly as his thrusts became rougher, the warmth in your tummy pooling at the action.

The hand on the opposite side of your neck lightly squeezed in desperation, your orgasm building as his tip bullied your gspot. Pulling away from him in a hymn-like moan, unable to keep the attempts of a kiss with every strong thrust he made. 

Choso’s eyes blinked at your lips, lightly glazed in your essence with a small smudge at the corner of your mouth. He couldn’t help the mumbled words of, ‘M’sorry-’ that left his throat, connecting his lips with yours again and feeling the walls of your cunt flutter around him. 

His eyes rolling back with the evident taste on your tongue. Thrusts sloppy and fast- pounding into you as your hands tugged at whatever they could find. Clawing at the broad of his back, and grasping a handful of brown hair in the other. 

Soft whines lacing your exhales as you come undone, a low guttural moan separating your lips from his. Choso’s teeth clenched at the sudden vice-like grasp your cunt held around him. 

The hand on your hip held a mean grip as he worked himself to orgasm. His chest caving against yours with every sharp exhale he made. 

Your hand trailed from his hair and down to his jaw, placing your thumb on his lower cheek and curling your fingers beneath his chin. Angling his face for you to see, his scarlet-tinted lips trembling, his dark hairline dampened with a light veil of sweat, your low eyes watched with soft grunts leaving your lips. 

Choso parted his eyes as he felt the grip you held his lower face with, watching an expression of desire form on your face as he felt the wave of his orgasm crash through him with a low grunt. 

Thick and heavy pumps of his essence filled you, watching his peaked eyebrows wiggle with the slowing thrusts his hips made. 

Huffing heavily as he nuzzled his cock further into you- as deep as he could. Lowering his forehead to yours and batting his eyes closed, pressing down a lazy kiss to your plush lips. 

Steadying his breathing as your hands eased their grip. Lifting himself slightly, blinking his eyes open in a hazy afterglow- darting his eyes to the holes he punched into your skin. 

Regret filling his stomach as he lightly tilts your head to the side, to give him a better view of the wounds. Mentally scolding himself for losing control and doing as you asked, even if the light trickling of your blood enticed him for more- the love he felt in his heart overrode his primal urges. 

Easing himself out of you with a wince, sitting on his knees as you followed him. Pulling a sheet from the side of the bed over your bare body.  

Sitting up and feeling his hand hold your neck in a curve, you grinned, peering into his worried expression. "It's okay." you declared.

You reached up to his hand, holding it in yours and looking at him straight on. “I liked it.” you whispered, watching his eyes blink in confusion. The corners of his mouth stained with your blood, parting his lips as you lightly caressed his cold hand. 

Furrowing his eyebrows in disappointment in himself, “I can't-” Choso whispered, bordering on a whimper. 

Just seeing the scabbing wounds was more painful to him than to you. 

Knowing he was the one that did it- hurt just as much. And yet you asked for more. Continuously offering yourself as his own personal blood bag- warmed to the perfect temperature and laced with the sweetest flavor that he had ever tasted.

And he tried—Choso tried with everything in him not to let your words convince him otherwise. But the taste of you couldn’t be washed out from his tongue—not even with a hundred bags of cold blood from strangers. 

So convinced that it was only because it came from someone he loved- that he found such addiction in it. That and how you would allow him to drink the liquid from your skin knowing it would satiate his hunger. 

And everytime you would offer your body to him- he would always look at your eyes, asking for your sanction. 

Even if the hunger pulsed in his stomach, that’s what he would wait for- the clear permission he was allowed to sink himself into you again. 

-

(a.n) how I only used the word 'vampire' once? I have no idea.

[cillivnz]

RUNAWAY BRIDE [Lord Dimitrescu]

pairing. Lord Alcides Dimitrescu x Ex!Wife Reader

genre. angst, smut.

warnings. nsfw (18+). infidelity, abandonment, cannibalism, gore descriptions, murder, separation, hunter-prey-chase dynamics, manipulation, pregnancy, cursing, pet-names, mention of cults, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, squirting, overstimulation, clit-play, breast/nipple-play, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, doggystyle, crying.

word count. 3.7k+

a/n. idk how i feel about this :,) sweet anon, thank you so much for requesting this! i apologise for not getting to work sooner, but i hope it was worth the time! feedback is always appreciated <3 NOT PROOFREAD. EXCUSE INACCURATE TRANSLATIONS (I USE GOOGLE)

translations. “Mireasa fugară” - The Runaway Bride. “draga mea sotie” - my darling wife. “mireasa mea fugitivă” - my runaway bride. “Comoara mea” - My precious. “căprița mea mică” - my little doe. “iubițel” - darling/sweetheart. “Draga mea” - My darling.

listening to. HIM — Lose You Tonight - Thulsa Doom Extended Dub

TEARING HELL FOR LEATHER, you were cursing Fate and her knack for irony, because as you galloped like a doe from one forest Spruce to another, you were sure you were being compared to one by your tiger hunters; a dumb doe, too.

For thinking you could outrun them.

Vampiric barbarians that chased prey like you for sport, and devoured your meaty, lifeless bodies for dinner.

‘None of it seemed to be a problem to you then, so why now, my darling?’

You could hear his voice ring in the eye of your mind, a taunt, perhaps a warning, that you had no choice now but to suffer the consequences of a lustful love that once became the root of your existence.

You had been the talk of the town, rather, every town coming under The Four Houses; firstly, for your damn-near blasphemous marriage to him, and then when you ran away from him, leaving him to be a bastard widow of sorts.

Lord Alcides Dimitrescu and his Runaway Bride.

“Mireasa fugară”

Of all titles given to you, from ‘his little doe’, to Lady Dimitrescu, or even ‘Mother Dearest’ by your adoptive children, the one that stuck was this.

As you tear through the verdure of the outskirts of your renounced Castle, you hope the now-grown men chasing you remember how you were their “Mother Dearest” as boys.

“Mother, that’s enough,” grunted Boian, your oldest, ever the most obedient and faithful, but his loyalties will remain to his father, and so he’ll hunt you down for his validation, if he must.

“Yeah, Mommy, aren’t you getting tired of the cats-and-mouse chase?” Cătălin intervened, a snarky comment always on the brat’s lips, but his mischief and naughtiness had always warmed your heart.

“Just come back to father— to us,” begged Dorin, your youngest. He had always been the most attached to the idea of you as his mother, clutching onto your dress and hiding behind you when his father would scold him for blinding the messenger raven by throwing rocks at it, and would always consider you to be the epitome of the ideal woman.

Your eyes well up at their cries for you, but you must do this. You mustn’t ever return to Castle Dimitrescu, the hellish abode of Satan himself.

Not after his cannibalistic tendencies were shamelessly rubbed in your face, a mortal noblewomen who lost the people of her kingdom to her husband’s appetite.

The night was cold, the frost blanketing over the foliage like a cruel lover’s intoxicating embrace.

Speaking of a noxious love, you were preparing in your chambers, to let go and breathe the air of freedom and quit living in a necromantic land ruled by tyranny.

“‘Ya almost done?” A thick transatlantic accent broke the eerie silence of your quarters.

Where the only sound heard was that of your beating heart, now, the planting of wet kisses along your spine was sounded, too.

“Karl…” you whimpered in hesitation,

“I know, bub, we’re leaving as soon as ‘ya finish packing.” He planted one final kiss on your shoulder before leaving you alone; once again the silence fell.

Your heart palpitated, sinking into the pit of your stomach with guilt, making you sigh as you second-guess your decision. It’s ironic how you spent your entire life in the belief of infidelity being the biggest sin— the ultimate blasphemy to betray whom you’re betrothed to, and now you’re forsaking your husband to live a “normal” life with his friend.

“Fuck me,” you groan. You were never one to use profanities so casually, but the given circumstances had you cursing like a sailor. Clutching your bag of belongings, you make your way outside of the chambers. You see your chamberlain bustling about the halls, eagerly preparing for dinner for the five of you— Lord, Lady, and children. She nods curtly at you, “Pasha, where must the Lord be,” you inquire. She immediately stops tending to the kitchen staff and pays full heed to you. “He is still at the Tower of Worship, m’ Lady,” Pasha replies.

Right, so he’s still where he’d said he’d be; where he requested you to accompany him, but you refused, feigning a faux headache that your stress soon turned genuine.

“I am going to accompany him there, don’t wait for me for supper,” you dismiss her and her ‘but’s’ of concern for your health.

As you walk towards the Tower, your steps felt faltered, meek. The damp, chilly air only constricted your breathing and the large ruby on your ring finger that once fit you like a glove, back when he proposed to you on one knee, levelling your height then, felt like needles pricking into your soft flesh— a beautiful but bitter reminder of your imprisonment.

The ruby glowed when you walked past the Tower, as if telling you that the object of your desires— your demise— is in there.

You ignore all omens screeching at you, and disappear into the night; Karl Heisenberg waiting for you on the outskirts of the town in a chariot.

“What happens now,” you inquire, breathless from kissing Karl. “We’ll live off of regular means. I’ll look for a job in welding, and you— well, bub, with a face like yours you could start your own cult,” he smirks, nuzzling his bearded face into your neck.

You try to laugh but your conscious was grim.

“HE KNOWS, IT’LL ONLY A MATTER OF TIME!” Cătălin had a possessed look on his face, his raven hair wild in the wind, yellow eyes fluorescent in the dark.

Tears stream down your face, the wind carrying them to your storming children.

You were tired, wanting the nightmare to be over. Never having anticipated these to be the consequences— hell, had you known, you would’ve never accepted either man’s proposal— neither Alcides nor Karl.

Alas, a woman’s beauty is to blame for bad luck.

When the sound of thunderous strides tearing through foliage is no longer heard behind, you stop dead in your tracks, hidding behind the largest tree of the forest, a century old banyan.

Your haggard breath created a veil of fog around you, your eyes dart in every nook and corner for a sign of your predators, not knowing they’re circling you from each direction, until the leap in front of you.

“Mamă,” Dorin cooed, his voice soft. Cătălin pushed past him, cornering you further in. He wipes the sweat on his lip with the back of his hand, his eyes flick from a pale beige colour to an electric yellow.

“Say you want us to take you back to Dad,” he grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to look into his eyes. Your pupils dilate, your subconscious felt manipulated into a trance.

“No!” You intended to slap away his grip, but what surprised the three was that there was no need for you to. Your own eyes glimmered a fluorescent amber, hypnotising him to back off.

“That’s enough,” Dorin intervened, his voice gruff, depicting maturity you didn’t know he was capable of possessing.

Boian stood closest to you know, your eyes watering with heavy tears, like the reflection of the sun in a stream.

“Rest, mother.” His eyes shined the brightest, compelling you to comply, and your tired mind just wanted it for the sufferance to end.

THE FIRST SIGHT YOU SEE when you awoke was of the gothic ridges adorning the ceiling of your— Alcides’ bedroom.

Wait, what—

You shoot up from your grave of silk bedding, eyes landing directly on the man you were dreading, the man you abandoned, the man you married.

His kept stubble grew into a full beard, tiny specks of grey were illuminating in his roots, and he was seemingly taller, with the pride of having stolen you from the world once again.

“Good morning, draga mea sotie,” he spoke with a nonchalant face, but you of all people knew when you heard amusement in his tone. “I take it you slept well, thanks to our oldest—”

“Keep my boy off of your necromantic ways,” you cut him off.

“Dare you suggest I cut off his diet? Starve my boy? Rob him off of his luxuries—”

“I’m suggesting you raise normal nobles, not cannibals in a cult,” your voice came out weaker than you expected, and the faux offense feigned on the tyrant Lord’s face turned into a smug grin, “There’s nothing normal about nobility, and you’re one to talk,”

“They told me what happened.”

Your eyes widen— the same eyes he’s referring to right now. “No. Th-that was an accident—”

“‘That so? How come you have the symptoms of a plague that never infected you, hm?” He moves closer, from the edge of the bed to right beside your bare knees. “Unless you’ve had it embedded in you, or you’ve resorted to our diet, the odds are not in your favour, mireasa mea fugitivă.”

“How dare you call me that,” you sneered.

“How dare you hide my unborn child from me.”

“How dare you leave me.”

You dare not look at him now, face turned away from him, clenching your jaw while your eyes well up with fury.

“Comoara mea, look at me,” his large hands grab a hold of your chin, and the gentleness took you by surprise. He makes you face him, and when you look into his amber eyes your expression softens.

He stares into your glassy doe eyes, parted plump lips quivering, “There’s căprița mea mică,” he smiled— not smirked in his usual conceit, but smiled— the smile you received when you stood in the chapel of the Tower of Worship, and swore yourself to him.

His lips find yours in a yearning kiss— gentle, longing, and passionate. You clutch his half-unbuttoned shirt, remembering how you’d have to stand on your tiptoes to button them for them, not that the trimmed chest hair ever bothered you, if anything, it got you hot and bothered, which is why you buttoned him up. The fabric crinkles under your grip, and whether you were holding onto him to push him away or pull him closer was something you couldn’t figure out.

His hands tear open your blouse, and you couldn’t help but compare the act with the way you’ve caught him ripping through human flesh.

You pull away.

“You know why I left, and why I’ll leave again,” your chest heaved, breathless.

“Because I’m cruel? A cannibal?”

“Like your little paramour was any better.” He spat, and your eyes widened.

He knew about Karl, “What?”

“Please, ‘y really think he left you in a tavern full of drunken hunters every night and day to weld weapons? He’d deal in his work for a pound of flesh from the very hunters whose tables you’d been scrubbing,” he revealed, running a hand through his onyx locs.

He knew everything.

“Karl couldn’t— where is he?!” The realisation of his a sense dawned on you.

“Being served— as dinner.” He smirked.

The metal man was dead.

“Come on, don’t tell me you felt for that bastard. He was your exit ticket, I know, but other than that what’s he got,” says your ex-husband, meaning to say, “What’s he got that I don’t— that I didn’t?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, so the tantalising question hangs over the cold tension of the room.

This time his hand grabs ahold of your nape, tugging the hair towards him.

“Don’t go all quiet on me now, my darling,” he cooed, voice husky and soft despite the harsh pain he was inflicting on your scalp.

“What do you want, Alcides?” You spat, and he smiled at his little spitfire.

“Another chance,” he spoke almost instantly, a request lingering in the air.

“—To do better for you, and my unborn child.” He’s patient, oh so careful with you, like this doe’s made of glass.

He grips your calf, causing you to wince. Immediately he searches for the reason of your pain, noting it to be a laceration.

“Lie back, relax, and let me take care of you,” he cooed, making his way to catch your lips, “Let me worship you the way I should’ve.”

You couldn’t help but lean into the kiss. He had a way with words, a way so profound that he had you wrapped around his abnormally large finger the minute he set eyes on you.

You succumb. And fuck, do you succumb?

“Mireasa fugară”, her Tyrant Lord— a cruel tale men would recite at the tavern table, laugh at Fate and her knack for irony. Perhaps, they’d compare her beauty to their distraught wives’, curse their luck for not making her theirs, they’d surely have treated her better than the Cannibal, and the barkeep ladies yearn for the sight of a mammoth hulking in their pub, offering a penny to anyone who’d tell him with whom his wife ran away with. He who hunts hunters for sport, lost all wits and appetite for destruction over a woman.

The men laugh, their ale clinks, the barkeeps scrub the tables with a satiated sigh. Such is life, a beautiful ending to a tragic tale.

His kisses follow the trail from the corner of your lips to your jawline, your prominent collarbones. He takes a minute to observe the glass flesh which was earlier always adorned in tyrian purple like a leash of love; now the slate was clean, the collar, erased— a cruel reminder of the last time you made love— so casually that night, and had he known it would’ve been the last for a very long time, he’d have given you a night to remember— not that you ever forgot.

Alcides got to work, gently suckling on your pulse points. His beard pricked your soft flesh, sending jolts of arousal through you. You bit your lip, holding back moans, but the minute his mouth landed on your breasts, you were a goner. He kneaded them, caressed and fondled them. He noticed how your breasts had swell up, your body preparing for sustaining the child that hadn’t even developed into a bump yet. His serpentine tongue peaked out, encircling your hard nipple. Wet kisses trailed along the valley of your breasts, every inch of your body was covered in his essence.

When he reached your belly, he peered at you. Amber yellow eyes were blown out in lust, staring into the crests of your soul as his lips pressed into your flesh in a chaste kiss.

“It’s happy,” he began, causing your trance to break momentarily, “To have its parents back together,” he continued. A swell of overwhelm gathered in your heart, but that was every moment in a relationship with Alcides.

All thoughts and sense left your mind when his face was between your thighs. His broad shoulders were enough to have you fully spread out for him, even more than you’d like. He observed your body, the flutter of your walls, the blood rush to your clit, all were odes to his heed, and with immediate urgency.

The first lick to your cunt sent you spiralling back to doomsday. What every fibre of your being tried to prevent was unravelling right before your eyes, and the worst part? You wanted it to happen, you craved it, needed it like he needed human flesh. Maybe you two weren’t so different in your desires, you gnaw at his being alive and he eats corpses.

“Prettiest pussy,” he spoke, smothered in your thighs. His gentle licks were putting pressure on your sensitive spots, the texture of his abnormal tongue had always coaxed your soul to ooze through your orgasmic tides. Your clit was constantly taunted by the tip of his tongue, flicking and sucking on the bundle of nerves, relishing in the sight of you writhing and pulsating.

Soon enough, his tongue slipped into your velvety walls, the wet muscle stretching your constricting walls in a manner so painfully good.

Sex with Alcides had always been excruciatingly good, and tonight this artist put on his finest performance for his favourite audience of one.

You were squirming in his grasp, trying to get away before coming undone, but he wouldn’t budge, if anything, his tongue dove in deeper into your clenching pussy.

With fervent rubs of your clit, he had you coming in his mouth, a celestial maiden quenching the thirst of a mortal with ichor.

You struggled in overstimulation, but Alcides only lapped further at the juices dripping down his chin.

“One,” he rose, parting your legs further. He positioned his fingers on your mound, pressing down firmly. The feel of your cunt convulsing with need sent him tremors down his spine. He eased a finger in, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. The sharp digit sat fat and deep inside you, slowly curling to the rhythm of its master’s drum.

Your clit throbbed, and with senses as heightened as yours, it ached. Alcides was quick to soothe or intensify the pain, leaning in to lick leisurely at the bud, while his finger teased your sweet spot.

Another digit in had tears welling up in your eyes, and soon the stream flowed down your cheeks as his rhythm picked up pace.

“Hurts, iubițel,” you whined, and Alcides froze.

‘iubițel’, was something he hadn’t been addressed as for years. A genuine smile flashed on his handsome face, you’re accepting it— accepting him.

“I know, Draga mea, but you can take it,” he got back to sucking your clit while scissoring your cunt open with his thick digits. “Alcides, fuck!” You moaned wantonly, gushing all over him. He grinned from ear to ear, eager to coax more of that squirt out. His movements tripled in velocity, and soon enough, he pulled out only to replace his digits with his mouth, drinking every spurt of your juices.

“Two,” he groaned, licking his glistening lips.

He pulled you closer by the neck, crashing his lips onto yours in a passionate tango of tongue. He was quick to turn you around, manhandling you on your fours came naturally to him; too easily did you comply.

The feeling of his fat cockhead rubbing against your tender entrance was nostalgic to say the least, but fear of not being able to take him soon crept it. Even when he’d fuck you day and night, you could barely, just barely accommodate the mammoth’s monster cock, and now that it’s been years without practise, you could only pray to Gods you wouldn’t rip in half.

As the tip slide in, you felt a wave of euphoria crash your shores of uncertainty. Concealing in lust was the love you had now opened yourself up for.

Alcides spread your ass, relishing in the feel of the plump fat of your curves in his large palms. He gave your hips a squeeze before letting his palm fall on the swell of your ass.

You gasped at the smack, looking back at him through wet eyelashes. “My little doe, my beautiful, beautiful wife,” he gave you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

He pushed in further and further until no inch was left, until your thighs were clad together and your bodies conjoined.

Feeling merciful, Alcides decided to let you adjust to his intrusion. As you clenched and cried on his cock, Alcides took a minute to close his eyes and smile on cloud nine. The feel of your warm, tight, wet cunt choking his cock to death was a feeling he longed for, and it was then he knew no other desire of his could amount to you. He would leave it all for you. He will.

“Alcides, fuck,” your pornographic moans were sound in the whole chambers. He set out a slow pace, yet every thrust was felt in your cervix. “Good G-God, darling,” Alcides moaned, his breath hitched as your tight channel gripped him like a vice.

He snaked a hand to settle between your thighs, pinching your clit.

You were in tears, beads of sweat pearlescent on your body, brows furrowed in pleasure and pain, a beautiful symphony.

“Slow down—” you managed to shriek, but Alcides was too far gone to act on it, he could only bring you solace to endure what his desires have in store for you. He kisses your spine, bathing your silk skin in wet kisses.

He pounded into your cunt, the whole room rumbling with the thrusts of the titan above you. He had an ironclad grip on your hips, slamming them back on his cock as he pistons into you. “Fuck, I couldn’t live without you,” he croaked.

“Don’t leave me again, please,” he beseeched, causing you to nod rapidly, face buried into the sheets.

“Alcides, I’m going to—” your tears and slick stained the sheets, you broke down on his cock, the sensation, the memories too much for your precious and fragile little heart to endure.

He pulled out.

He glared at your gaping hole, your flustered face crying in frustration at the painful denial.

Alcides slams inside of you, “I need— need to look at you while I cum,” he groaned, resuming his animalistic thrusts.

Your legs wrapped around his narrow waist, nails ripping through the flesh of his broad back.

Rutting into your cunt, he bent forwards to catch your bouncing breasts into his mouth, squeezing the two together.

He left your hip to abuse your clit, tormenting the swollen bud with overstimulation.

“Cum with me. Cum with your husband,” he was lost inside of you. Rambling sweet nothings like never before, making every cell inside of you swell up with love and lust.

“Alcides!” You moaned, feeling his warm seed shoot into you.

“Oh my god!” You saw stars.

It finally came to you, in bits and pieces of your being, Fate isn’t cruel, but comic.

“Three,” he groaned, crashing beside you.

Three earth-shattering orgasms for the three years you abandoned him.

“I love you, I’ll do anything for you,” he caressed the side of your face.

“I love you, too,” you sighed, feeling exhaustion embrace you.

You spent so long running, only for your strides to lead you back to bed with him, to home.

Fate isn’t cruel but comic, because the bones you were so against finding devoured in your house became your daughter’s favourite toys.

Just like her father, Alcides, Alcina Dimitrescu loves the grotesque, but her doe of a mother even more.

main masterlist. more of Lord Dimitrescu. SEE ALSO. important clarification in rgds to this fic.

[90ekz]

BLEED INTO ME!

in which… ony is your vampire boyfriend, and he tends to overfeed, even when you tell him not to. guess you have to teach him a lesson, yeah?

word count: 3.4k (WOAH?)

content. smut + plot, sub!vamp!ony, light angst, nicknames (baby, princess, ma, pa, pretty), dacryphillia, heavy discussion of wounds and injury, established relationship, n-word usage, hematolagnia & blood consumption, black!domfem!reader, overstimulation, handcuffs, light feminization, handjobs, male squirting, dry humping.

syno speaks. i really apologize for the delay on this, but i hope y’all love it! thank you for all the support :) btw, i know some people are squeamish about blood, so if that bothers you in any way you may need to avoid reading this. kk that’s all, love y’all 💋

ony annoys the fuck outta you.

he always has, ever since he came shimmying through your houses’ chimney while you’d fallen asleep on the couch watching your favorite movie. the action hadn’t even registered in your bleary mind until he was poking his sharpened talon against your cheek, silently praying that you’d wake up so he could explain his current situation.

the poachers were running a muck on the town, and they were out to kill any and every vampire they could find.

ony, specifically, had been a prime target, due to him being the only full-breed left in the country. he had been on the run for months now, and whether it was finding caves to sleep in or crashing at his boys’ houses when he could, he’d been keeping his distance between him and the enemy, until now.

he’s suddenly awoken in his cave to the sound of heavy footsteps clammering against floors of the gravel, and he recognized the sound like his own voice. he wasn’t quick enough to move out of their line of sight before he was shot in his stomach and chased through town, only getting away once he saw your house with an easy entrance.

“hey, wake the hell up.” ony complained, his jabs slowly getting softer as he took in the state of your sprawled out body.

your appearance should be the least of his worries right now, but you were so captivating. even with the droop of your plump lips, and the way your blanket was completely kicked off you, revealing only a crop top and shorts. your curves were on full display, and he felt his fingers itch with the need to touch, to mark.

as your eyes blinked open, ony hovered over your frame, drool pooling in his mouth as he patiently waited for your full awakening.

“oh, look who decided to join us.”

silence stretched over the room for an unbearable amount of time as your brain caught up to what exactly you were looking at, and you were scrambling to your feet and behind the couch. you were swift on your feet, and suddenly ony had a knife barreling toward his head that he barely dodged. the knife cemented itself into the wall, a reverberated sound bouncing against both of your ears.

“get the hell out of my house!” you gritted out, trying to keep your voice even. ony’s eyes are wide as he flicks his attention between you and the literal machete in the wall, what just happened?

“can you, uh, let me explain first?” ony presses on as he tried to ignore the way your voice was calling to him like a siren song. something about you was making his knees physically weak, but he would figure that out later when you weren’t ready to chuck another knife at him.

“explain what—you’re a random nigga in my house! how did you even get in here?!”

“the chimney, look can you just calm down—shit.” ony doubled over, as more blood started to leak from his wound. he hadn’t been fed in over a month, and was now losing his own blood. his regeneration isn’t as effective when he’s hungry, but he couldn’t risk going to some hospital to get help either.

you let a gasp slip out as you saw his hand clutches against his stomach, and you warily made your way over to his crumpling form.

“fuck, is that a bullet wound? i’ll um—let me go get some gauze, don’t move.” you rushed into a room outside of ony’s field of vision, and just as suddenly as you left, you were helping him to the couch. ony flopped down, quiet curses falling out of his mouth. you felt your cheeks heat as you removed what was left of his shirt and inspected his wound. it wasn’t too deep, and you were able to pull the bullet out with your tweezers without much effort.

the rest of the process was seamless, and ony was left relatively feeling impressed as he eyed the stained gauze wrapping his stomach. you even handed him a glass of water, and kneeled by him on the floor. you were so caring, and his stomach was in knots at your close proximity.

you kept making eyes at him like you wanted to ask something, until you finally did.

“what the hell happened to you?” your voice was much softer this time around, and ony was definitely a bigger fan of this tone. ony hooked his pointer finger into the corner of his mouth to reveal one of his pearly white fangs, his tongue lolling out involuntarily.

“poachers.”

he really did owe you a better explanation, but his head was much too fuzzy from hunger and blood loss to fully spit out that whole monologue. plus, your cheeks were now stained burgundy with shyness and another emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and you looked way too cute like that.

only now did you finally take a good look at the man before you, and you were embarrassed to realize that this was the man that had been labeled all over the news as “the last living full-breed.”

and he was bloody, shirtless, and sexy right here on your living room couch.

“y-you’re…”

“the last living full-breed vampire? yeah, something like that.” ony rolled his eyes, his hand waving in a nonchalant manner as if he wasn’t the most wanted… thing walking right now. you’d built up an impressive saved folder of videos, blog articles, and news headlines about him and his whereabouts, and you’d always felt so bad for him.

a bout of shame washed over you at your previous actions. you’d attacked him and screamed at him without even realizing that this was the same man you’d been pitying for months now, and now that he’s here, you have a strange urge to protect him.

“i, uh…i’m sorry for all the knife-throwing and stuff,” you mumble into the arm of the couch. “i didn’t realize it was you.” ony huffs, clearly amused with your response.“i did break into your house to be fair. i wouldn’t sweat it.” he shifts in his seat on the couch, still unable to fully sit up without the pain spreading. fuck; he really needs to eat soon.

comfortable silence sits in the room with the two of you, the same thing on both of your minds.

“so, what’re you gonna do now?”

“no clue. i can’t go back to my cave, and most of my homeboys live in the old city i was staying in, so i can’t go to any of them. probably just gonna skip town. again.” ony mentions sadly. he was tired of always having to run from people, and it was getting lonely without any of his friends or family around anymore. it was a constant battle, and he was tired of fighting for it.

you him to affirm him, but can’t shake the ridiculous idea you have brewing on the back of your tongue. it should be out of the question, but you wanted to protect him, and he needed somewhere to stay. what’s the worst that could happen?

ony sighed, and as he went to stand up, you grabbed his wrist firmly.

“why don’t…why don’t you just stay here?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“onyankopon, i’m not boutta play wit you all night.”

“please baby, im so hungry.” ony presses his cheek against the innard of your thigh while you diligently finish on the outline of your english literature essay and pouts.

fuck you and your dedication to a masters degree, hmph.

he’d been teasing you for hours now so you could feed him, but you wouldn’t take the bait. you just roll your eyes in response as he grips onto the fat of your thigh, licking and sucking at the bite mark from 2 days ago that hadn't faded all the way yet.

this only spurred ony further, his instincts just telling him to ruin your thighs for any one else, to just drain you of everything you had.

so he did.

“o-ony! what did i just say?!” your thigh trembles against his lips as he digs his fangs in, his eyes low and cloudy from your taste. this, this right here, was his personal heaven—desperate whines slipping from your lips, your fingers gripping his hair, your sweet stream hitting his tongue as he sloppily drinks you alive.

ony groaned deep in his chest as his pants began to feel far too tight all of the sudden. this happens often, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. it isn’t uncommon for him to come completely undone just by feeling your sweetness flow down his throat and pool into his stomach. your blood was his weakness; it made him stronger, faster, and healthier than he’d ever felt or been, and you protected him.

you the first—and the only—to not cast him out, and for that reason, he fell deep for you. deeper than he ever thought possible.

and even now, ony craved more of you.

you shakily pressed three taps to the side of his biceps, your sign that you needed him to stop. he whined loudly, but pulled away nonetheless. he knows that restraint is very important when it comes to this, but he’s still so hungry. you feel your cheeks heat up as you brush a thumb of his now trembling lips, and take in just how wrecked he looks.

his eyes are watering tinted and watery, and his hair was ruffled from the way you’d pulled on it. ony was a complete mess of himself, and you felt your pride swell at how easily your blood can do that to him.

“mmm, fuck ma, tastes so fucking good—‘m so hard fr’m it…”

you smile down at him, loving how quickly he fell under your spell. ony’s your obsession, but he had disobeyed you, and you couldn’t let that slide. as much as you wanted to just give into him and let him take what he needs from you, you had to remind him who was boss.

“uh huh.” you shrugged, simply going back to your paper. you wanted to make him even more needy than he already was.

“‘fuck you mean, uh huh? make me nut already.” ony licks over the freshly punctured bite as a little blood rushes out. he expects you to do something, anything in response, but you just huff and continue to work on your paper. you’re basically done with it already, but you choose to add little details just so he gets irritated, and boy is it working. ony was absolutely itching to just break that stupid laptop so you'd pay attention to him, but it was all in vain.

no matter the amount of kissing, licking or teasing he did, your resolve didn't crack one bit under the pressure of his touch, and that in itself made ony's blood run cold. he just wanted you to look at him, and his cock was throbbing even without your attention.

“don’t act like you ain’t just drink a whole pint outta me even when i said wait. you not gettin’ shit else.” you wave him off with a simple signal of your hand, and his stomach drops. not only were you ignoring him, you were shooing him.

ony raises to his feet and nuzzles his face into your neck, positively whiny now. he undid the button of his pants and you gasped as his cock sprung free. of course the freaky nigga wasn’t wearing any drawls, he strange like that.

“ony, put some damn drawls on.”

“baby please, ‘s literally throbbing. ‘can’t take it.”

you found yourself holding back a smile as he peppers kisses along your face and neck, and you’re trying not to giggle. your restraint is slowly slipping, and you figured that you could indulge him just a little. you meet him halfway, his tongue slipping into your mouth easily. it was just how you liked it. ony had a way with kissing—his fangs usually came as a bit of a roadblock, but you two found ways around it. you tug the back of his head toward you, and he’s stumbling down to your height.

you smile, and ony feels himself melting once more. you could tell that he was getting needier, the glint in his eyes giving away how ready he was to be ruined by you.

“you need it bad, pa?”

“fuck, so bad.” he gasped into your mouth, his fang nipping your lip and watching a bit of blood bead at the tip of it. he eagerly licked it up, and you could feel your own arousal building. your gray panties did nothing to hide the wet spot growing in your core, but you had bigger things to worry about.

you wrapped a manicured hand around ony’s wrist, pulling him to the bedroom. he chuckled deep in his chest as he trailed behind you like your personal mutt, and you couldn’t help but smile. you loved when he got like this.

as soon as you entered the room, ony blinked and he was suddenly cuffed to your king sized bed, the silk of the sheets rubbing up against his skin. he already felt overwhelmed, and was pouty about not being able to touch you, but he had to remember that this was his punishment, and he wanted to be good for you. he was completely naked and the cold air of the room barely registered to him as your clothed pussy rutted against his bare cock.

it was like torture, but he knows that’s the point.

“c-cmon ma, you can go harder,” ony sighed, gesturing his head toward your matching bra and panties. you ground your pussy down against him harder, wanton moans falling from your glossed lips. ony cursed under his breath as he watched you stimulate yourself on his cock. your nails dug into his waist as you moved, arousal clear on your face. “is fat ma wet for me yet?”

it was a ridiculous question, really. he already knew the answer, and you did too. squelching noises filled the room as your sticky underwear made friction against his cock, and that was answer enough, but ony wanted to hear you admit it. you weren’t that vocal in bed (at least not with words), but it was always ony’s goal to make you.

“mmhm, she’s so wet f’you pa.”

“oh fuck.” ony feels his hips jerk up involuntarily as you talk dirty to him, he loves that nasty shit. he can’t figure out if it’s because you’re kinda mad at him or something else, but you were so responsive today and he needed to be inside you now. just the simple act of watching you climb the ladder to your climax was enough to have him panting and moaning along with you.

your head drops backward as you get closer to that sweet release, and ony is falling in love all over again. you look perfect like this, drooling over his cock rubbing between your folds without even properly touching you. your hand rubs under his chin as you force him to look at you, and he hopes he isn’t blushing.

“ony—fuck! ‘m cummin!” the coil in your stomach snaps, and ony watches in awe as your panties get completely ruined. his lap is sticky from the mix of his own pre and your juices, and he whines as his fangs start to protrude from arousal. you smile and let your thumb trail over his teeth and tongue, and he’s struggling against the cuffs.

there’s so many thing ony wants to do to you right now—but he wants to touch you more than anything. run his fingers up the indent of your wide hips, choke you, rub your oversensitive pussy, fuck, and he really wants to bite you. he wasn’t even that hungry, but there was an ache under his skin to mark you and make you bleed, and watch it all drip out.

just the thought was enough to have a spurts of cum shooting onto his stomach, and you let out a little coo at his twitching stomach as you take the opportunity to begin stimulating him, not even caring if he was too sensitive. you ran your fingers over the head of his cock, pay extra attention to the tip just the way that makes him fall apart.

“w-wait!”

“for what? you were just begging me to make you nut earlier, weren’t you?” you smirk as he bucks against your hand. when ony gets sensitive, his voice will pitch up and it’s the sexiest thing in the world to you. he’s always the neediest after he feeds, and it’s so cute. your eyes landed on the lube sitting on your nightstand, and you took the opportunity to squirt a few drops onto your hand. it was almost too slippery for you to keep your pace, but the added moisture made it easier to stimulate the most sensitive parts of him.

“shit, it’s so wet.”

“yeah? wetter than me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“uh uh, ‘s nothing wetter than you mama—oh shit,” ony’s mouth dropped open as your finger passed over his slit once more, and he was spilling into your hand with a groan. there was more of it this time, and his hands tugged at the handcuffs as you continued to work him through his second orgasm. you were almost afraid that he was going to break them with his pure strength, but you just let him struggle.

you’d seen him break many things in your shared house. door handles, alarm clocks, your counter, (don’t ask about that one) so you wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to break his restraints, but you knew he loved them too much. “baby—can’t take anymore, fucking hurts!” ony trembles, his legs bucking under you as you stroke his harder. both of your hands were working on his cock now, and his lip was bleeding from gnawing on it too much. a few stray tears even started to trail down his face.

“cmon princess, you can give me one more,” you kiss along ony’s neck and chest, and smile as you feel his breath stutter under your touch.

“ma, w-wait! ‘m serious, it feels weird—shitshitshit—”

before you could ask what he meant, ony’s orgasm was slamming into him and a clear stream of liquid was shooting out of his cock in uneven spurts. each shot was shorter than the first, but you were taken aback nonetheless. he’d never done anything like that before, at least not that you’ve ever seen, but you could feel arousal pooling in your belly again as he writhed under you. you finally released his cock as it softened against his stomach, and room was developed in silence apart from the heaving breathing of both of you.

you gave him a wet kiss on his cheek and began undoing his cuffs, his look of embarrassment not going unnoticed. he rubbed his wrists together, inevitably proud of the marks you’d left on him. “onya.” you pressed your chest to his, but he wouldn’t look at you. you figured he was embarrassed about what had just happened, even if you didn’t know exactly what that was.

“hmm?”

“you gonna look at me or just do that blushing school girl shit all night?” that made him smack his lips and finally let his eyes meet yours. you held his jaw with your hand, stroking right where he was starting to grow some hair finally. it was a shame, ony really had no idea how pretty he was, even with his eyes streaked with tears, swollen lips, and marks left all along his neck and chest. his hands finally grasped your waist, eventually sliding down to paw at your doughy ass.

“you’re ruining my street cred, fat butt. out here makin me squirt and shit.”

“what street cred, nigga? you from the woods!” you laughed against his chest, and he felt his heart swell. he lifted your chin up to look at him, and your little smile made him remember that everything would be okay as long as he had you. you’d saved him, taken him away from a dangerous life, and he couldn’t find any way good enough to properly thank you.

your eyes twinkled and you closed the distance between the two of you. the kiss was slow and ardent, and you wanted to stay like this forever.

“you did so good, ony. ‘so proud of you, baby.”

“if you were really proud, you’d feed me some more—”

“mmkay, don’t push ya luck.”

special tag 444 my baby <3 @hoesluvshanti

[elvirable]

Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

-------

Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this. 

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront. 

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth. 

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him. 

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise. 

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between. 

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you. 

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue. 

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open. 

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware. 

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm. 

==

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit. 

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed. 

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow. 

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock. 

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked. 

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss. 

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest. 

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of. 

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.