#White Fang found her again

[deadsetobsessions]

There, in the fog, a pair of glowing green eyes. Who does it belong to?

Surely not that which lays beneath the city, Gotham’s spirit that drowns in the cursed bogs buried beneath concrete and stone. Surely not she, who sobs songs of grief, she who croons silently for aid. Surely not she, madness incarnate, all gnarled shadows and crumbled concrete. Surely not she, Gotham herself, perched along her city’s gargoyles and looks over her own with stone eyes and stone heart that tries to beat like her own.

Her songs were answered with one of her own, a child whose parents were murdered in the heart of her heart. The parts of her that still loved as much as she could wholeheartedly accepted. The child that brought more children- who were all hurt by her and her own and decided she was worth helping anyways. Those eyes did not belong to her own children, those that she pulled the covers of relentless clouds over in order to protect.

No, no. Those eyes belonged to a different child. One that came later who Wailed along side her screams and soothed the madness that roiled beneath her streets.

Her screams were soothed by a child who is her liege, the small one that came and eased the rot that tore her marrow from the bones of her city- her own bones.

Phantom, she ruffles the hair of the boy king. Her gnarled joints and shadowed fangs and clawed countenance does not deter his smile and she loves the child more for it. Far better than the tyrant that tried to use her madness against her own people.

“Hi, Gotham. How are you doing today?”

Better, the gargoyles shifts and grinds. Thank you, my liege.

The boy-king laughs, bright green eyes glowing in the fog she’s summoned to obscure him from her knights. “You did most of the work.”

Not so, the winds whirls in between the white flames of the boy-king’s hair. But we have had this discourse.

Phantom smiles, sadness pulling at the corners of his eyes. She did not know human ways of emotion for she had always been a spirit, but this expression she knows well. It chases at the heels of her knights and now it is in a dogged pursuit for her liege’s heart. Gotham has found new things to hate. The shadows wrap around him.

Go, they whisper as Gotham herself slid back towards the cold stone of her city. Protect. Be happy.

“Okay, okay. But if one of your knights shoot at me again with their weird knives, I’m going to dye their hair neon pink.”

Gotham laughs, spiders bouncing along their webs. They will have deserved it.

The boy-king (hers, her liege, her son, her family, please, Gotham did not want to be alone anymore) laughed again and shot off from the perch she had provided.

[yujinnieswifeu]

g！b wonyoung！！！😭😭😭Vampire wonyoung 🧛‍♂️

thanks😭😭😭😭

pairings: sub!fem reader x dom g!p Wonyoung

warnings: lots of smutt, p in v, Wonyoung cums inside of reader, Wonyoung is a bit of a sadist if you squint

a/n: hey anonnn, you only mentioned vampire Wony so i crafted a plot for this one, hope its to your liking :>, also didn’t expect it to turn out to be a long ass story (not rlly story but idk what to call it) but here you go, enjoy~

You have not accepted your fate yet. Not when your life was starting to have meaning, not when you finally landed a full time job, so imagine when all that was taken from you, oh were you pissed. You could not step outside this miserable house until it was night, could not meet your friends in the morning. Everything could only be done at night. And whose fault was it? By this stupid vampire that decided to show up at night when you were sleeping and kidnapped you before she turned you into one herself, so here you are, in the huge mansion with Wonyoung.

“Are you done being such a brat?” She says, her patience was wearing thin with you, her knuckles turning white from how she had her hands curled in a fist. “Or what? You gonna do something to me? Oh i’m so scared, i’m a fucking vampire for gosh sake!” You exclaim, exaggerating a little before you turn to leave. That was until you felt your wrist being pulled back, as you fell back against the cold hard floor. Wonyoung has your wrists pinned as she hovers over you. You could feel your breath hitching at how close she was, the familiar feeling coming back again, one that you have been trying to get rid of recently as you were having an internal tug of wall.

“Oh, why so quiet now? Thought you had more to say brat.” There was that nickname again. You roll your eyes, trying to grasp out of her grip as you wiggled your body helplessly. “Let me go!” Wonyoung only smirks at your attempt to fight back, you were indeed amusing. Maybe thats why she fell for you, your never backing down character, the way you would never take no for an answer. Everything about you just amused Wonyoung and she found herself wanting to know more about you. “You forgot that i’m stronger than you brat.” She hisses, using her tongue to touch her fangs, taunting you which makes you glare her way. “Don’t fucking show me that.” You say through gritted teeth, the reminder that Wonyoung sunk her teeth against your skin as she made you hers unwillingly to you made your blood boil.

“And what? You going to stop me?” Her tone was teasing, tightening her grip on your wrists as you whimper at the feeling. She watches you, the sight of you in slight pain was delicious to her, she wanted to see more, to see the way you react to her touches, to see the tears wellin- “Just wait Wonyoung, i’ll make you regret turning me into one of your kind!” You say menacingly, and Wonyoung could not take your bratty behaviour anymore. Within seconds, she has your wrists behind your back, carrying you effortlessly over to her bedroom where she spreaded you out over the bed, your hands bound to the bed. “L-let me go!” Your voice trembled a little, the fear and undeniable excitement coursing through your body was making your breathing heavier by the second.

Wonyoung only stays silent, quickly tearing your outfit up with her sharp nails. You gasped, the air against your skin makes you shiver, pulling and struggling against the bonds tied to your limbs. “Wha…what are you doing?” It comes out rushed, the panic in your voice only makes Wonyoung tilt her head, her eyes roaming over your body, she can’t help the feeling between her legs at how vulnerable you are, how vulnerable you look all tied up for her. Pushing her thoughts aside, she finally meet your fearful eyes. “Putting you back into place. You should know i’m the one in charge.” You roll your eyes, the fear replaced with annoyance and she walks over to the edge of the bed, grabbing your jaw harshly as she forces you to look back at her again. You only glare back at her this time, which she was not happy about.

“You are going to learn manners here, and if you don’t…” Wonyoung gives you a stare, slowly undoing her belt. You watch her, the feeling a sudden throb between your legs. You can’t deny how attractive Wonyoung is, as much as you hated her for what she did to you, you could not deny the attraction you had over her that has grown the past few weeks of staying together with her in the mansion. “Then what?” Wonyoung pauses her movements, her eyes locks on yours and the sudden tension in the room becomes palpable. “Then i will teach you over..and..over again.” She emphasises on the last part, finally removing her belt, you watch as she undoes her pants, pulling them down and your lips part unknowingly, the sudden dryness in your mouth now obvious to you.

Wonyoung smirks as she catches you stare, pushing her pants down as they drop to the floor, you watch how her tip was slightly standing up over her panties, the pre-cum now obvious and you realise she was getting off this as much as you were. This was the first time she ever went this far with you, but who were you to refuse when you were maybe secretly anticipating for this moment. She doesn’t need to know that of course. “Speechless?” She taunts you, making you roll your eyes in annoyance once again. “Oh, like someone didn’t get off to me all fucking tied up.” She growls, she hates it when you curse and you knew that. You just wanted to see what she would do, how will she react. You would never tell her, but you loved to make her angry, maybe because it turned you on more than you would care to admit.

“I guess i really need to put you in place brat.” She climbs on the bed, her thighs at the sides of your head as her cock slaps against your face in the process. Without any warning, she thrusts herself inside of your mouth. You immediately moan at the taste of her, unable to deny the feeling between your legs any longer as you pull at the restraints, so wanting to touch yourself as you brush your thighs together helplessly. Wonyoung watches you, how needy you have gotten, how you were actually enjoying this. She couldn’t help but moan and groan, thrusting herself deeper, her brows furrows in pleasure as she let out strings of curses. “F-fuck..yes..take it d-down...always knew you were a slut for my cock.” She tugs at your hair, pulling you impossibly closer before holding that position for a few seconds, only to pull away after as you gasp for air, tears welling down your cheeks and strings of drool hanging from your chin and connected to the tip of her cock.

You looked pretty like this. All messy for her. She wished she could take a picture of you now, all cock drunk for her, but that she would save for another day. Instead, Wonyoung pulls harshly at your hair, it makes you wince, a groan escaping your lips. “Done being such a brat?” She raises a brow, and you gave her a challenging look, one that makes her lips form a line, showing she was not happy with your behaviour, after all, she turned you into a vampire to be hers, and only hers. You could say she was possessive of you in a rather crazy way, one that she would never admit to if anyone asked her, but both of you knew the truth.

“I said what i said, and i wont take it back.” There it was once again, your never dying down attitude, except, this time, Wonyoung hated it. She only growls, positioning herself between your legs, and you knew what was to come. Without any warning, she pushes herself into your entrance, hearing you let out a scream from the stretch and slight sting. She ravels in the way your walls closes around her almost instantly, moaning with her eyes slightly rolled, she grips your thigh harshly, her sharp nail almost piercing your skin as you let out cries.

“I-i’m going to fuck you until you l-listen brat.” She was fucking into you so hard and fast that it was a little painful. But for some reason, your brain could only process her using you for your own pleasure, how she turned you into a vampire just for her own relief, and that thought just made it 10x better. You were a moaning mess beneath Wonyoung, lips parting and tongue sticking out slightly. Wonyoung loved you this way, she felt powerful, felt like she was in control of you and she would make sure to get that in your head.

She reaches over to your breasts as they jiggled with each thrust of her hips, her thumb circling your hardened nipples, hearing how you moaned louder for her. She moans as well, you were sucking her in so well, she changes her position to missionary instead, now having a clear view of the expression you were making. “Y-your pussy feels so good, so tight ahh~” You pulled at your wrists, whimpering as you weren’t able to do anything with your hands, your fists were balled into fists, your knuckles white. “P-please!” You cry out, and Wonyoung only ignores you, driving herself impossibly faster inside of you as she nears her orgasm.

“Please…p-please slow down..” You plead, the speed she was driving herself inside of you was becoming overwhelming and too much, some tears welling in your eyes. “S-say it then.” Wonyoung doesn’t slow down, she wanted to hear you take back your words from earlier, her hand lands a harsh slap on your breasts, it makes you let out a small scream, your back arching off the bed slightly from the stinging pain mixed with pleasure as she was still fucking inside of you. You start to sob, realising she wasn’t going to stop anytime soon until you took back your words.

“F-fine! I-i’m sorry, please!” You say desperately, pulling at your wrists again which were now sore from all your pulling and struggling. Wonyoung had a crazy smile over her face, it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, her speed still consistent as she pulls your thighs over her shoulders, pushing her front over your thighs, you cry out at the new angle, it was hitting your cervix repeatedly this time, and becoming too much. Wonyoung was really close too, but she held it back, she wanted to hear you say it before she dumps her load inside of you. “Say it.” She orders, her voice low and sultry, which makes you whimper.

“I…i..wont make y-you regret turning m-me into a…ahh..vampire.” You struggled with your words, now totally surrendering yourself to Wonyoung. “Good girl.” She slows down her movements a little, undoing the bounds on your hand with her long nail, and you instantly wrap your arms over her. She giggles at your state, going down to kiss your lips, sucking in all your moans as she pistons herself faster again. She could feel you sucking her more in, your walls closing more around her and knew you were close. She pulls away, her eyes staring into yours, watching your face contort into pleasure and she wraps her hand around your neck a little, letting you feel her dominance over you. Her action makes you cum instantly, your eyes rolling back slightly. “F-fuck, i’m cumming too!” She moans loudly, finding your lips again as she kisses you sloppily, speeding up her movement as she cums inside of you. You moan against her lips, your nails digging into her back from the feeling of being filled up. She stays in that position for a while, both of you not saying anything.

“You’re going to be a good girl from now on?” Wonyoung breaks the silence, only to hear you hum softly, too tired to reply with a proper response. She giggles at your state, pulling herself out of you which makes you whimper softly. She flips you over your front instead, and you turn your head to see her removing her top, a smirk adorning her face. She is back to bullying herself inside of you, which makes you moan and grip at the bedsheets again. “Don’t think i’m done with you yet sweetheart, i’ve only just started.”

[silvergyus]

bitten- h.kk

pairing: mortal!hueningkai x vampire!reader

summary: a century-old vampire hunts for her latest victim, a mortal boy she may want to keep around forever

warnings: typical vampire content including killing victims (kai is referred to as your victim/prey multiple times), blood consumption (reader bites kai and drinks his blood). this fic is dark! please do not read if you are not comfortable with these descriptions!

smut warnings: handjob (kai receiving), blowjob (kai receiving), scratching (kai receiving), dubcon (reader uses vampire persuasion on him multiple times), cum eating

word count: 1,600+

song recs: death- white lies & vampires- l.i.f.t

Decades had a tendency to bleed into one another. Styles changed, slang evolved, but at their core, humans remained the same.

You stalked through the dark, crisp autumn night. Dim street lights illuminated your strides in a hazy, golden glow. You were on the hunt tonight, hunger pangs twisting your stomach, propelling you forward. An onslaught of scents flooded your heightened senses, causing you to stumble and turn towards the heady mix of prey.

After asking a drunk girl with shiny red cheeks to invite you in, you crossed the threshold of the worn-down house and into the party. The air hung heavy with a nicotine haze as you made your way through the packed bodies lounging in the narrow hall. The smell of hormonal bodies drenched in alcohol filled your head, but you wouldn’t feed on just any poor drunkard, no, you wanted to find someone worth feeding on.

You settled into an antique rocking chair, an heirloom that stood out against the cheap particle board furniture that surrounded it. From your perch you took in the bodies in the room, observing everyone in the space, taking in the sights, sounds and scents of your next potential victim. Your eyes found their way to a boy tucked into the corner, laughing awkwardly at the conversations around him.

The boy held your full attention. He was beautiful. Tall, with a broad chest and shoulders half-hidden in his oversized sweater. His black hair hung into his eyes, a shield from the prying eyes of others, but not from you. No, you were especially good at finding those perfect boys, these perfect victims.

Draining the life- or at least most of it- from a victim was always erotic. It couldn't be helped. Their body writhing under your touch, your bite, the way they always resisted at first, until your venom lulled them into a pliant state. It was always messy, no matter how delicate you were. Hot blood rushing down their exposed throats, pulsing sweetly into your mouth. Their loud groans and quiet whimpers as you fed from them.

And if every feed was going to be like this, why shouldn't you pick the prettiest meals? Pretty humans with pretty throats, pretty flesh to trace your fangs along, pretty voices to whimper at your touch. Why shouldn’t you hunt for the best? You had forever to find it after all.

And when you had the best, you liked to hold onto it. No, you didn’t always kill your victims. Sometimes you kept them around, little pets for you to revive and feed from again and again, until you got bored or over-eager. Accidents happen. You hated wasting a pretty body, but sometimes, the darkness within you was too strong to ignore, animalistic instincts taking over, draining all the life from the victim at your feet. 

This boy though, he was pretty, pretty enough to be held onto. Too pretty of a face to be discarded after one round.

The air was thick with smoke and incense as you made your way over to your prey. His eyes, though obscured by his messy locks, widened at your sudden presence beside him.

A century of life has taught you charm. You postured yourself to appeal to this boy as you took him in at close range. You could smell the cologne he wore, sweet and bright against his skin. Below that, the coppery scent of his blood was intoxicating. You could hear his heart beat faster as you spoke to him, hear it rush towards his blushing cheeks. Oh, how he flustered at your presence. He’s cute, this boy. You could wait no longer to taste him.

The night stretched on as you conversed with the boy, Kai, he divulged. His mannerisms charmed you in kind, a sense of innocence that you longed to corrupt. The hunger that turned in you drew you closer to him, to his throat, the intoxicating scent making your head spin with want.

“Kai, my dear, would you like to come home with me?” Your eyes flashed black as you spoke, supernatural abilities turning your words sweeter than honey, impossible to resist. He nodded, eyes glassy as he was persuaded into action.

The moments between then and now passed in a flash. The journey back to your lair one filled with touches and kisses. Pleasantries were entertained, but the hunger in you couldn’t be silenced, not when this beautiful boy was settling onto your settee, relaxing in your space. Your eyes flash again, persuading him out of his clothes and onto your bed.

----

Kai is laid back against you, bare skin soft against yours. He is pale, his soft flesh dotted with sweet marks and freckles, a pink flush coloring his face and chest.

Your hand snakes up from his waist, a soft caress exploring the broad expanse of his chest, trailing up his throat before grasping his angular chin. You point his face away from yours, towards the silver mirror positioned across from the foot of the bed. In its surface you can see Kai’s brows furrow as he tries to make sense of the scene presented to him. Only his naked form appears reflected back, yours nowhere to be found.

"Look how beautiful you are," you whisper, taking in his appearance in the glass. His eyes widen with horror as he realizes that even as you talk, even as you move, there remains only one reflection in the mirror. He can feel you of course, your breasts pressed into his back, your breath fanning over his ear as you hold him. Your fingertips ghost over his nipples, scratching them slightly to see how he arches into your touch. You nuzzle his throat, smelling his fear and the sweetness of his blood pumping beneath the skin. His veins, so blue, stand to attention as his adrenaline rushes. It takes everything not to sink your teeth into him right now.

"Do you want to be like me, Kai? Would you like to feel like this forever?"

He swallows, still mesmerized by the scene in the reflection. Your hands continue to explore his chest, caressing his unmarked skin as they dip down to let your nails graze his hip bone. You tease him, fingertips ghosting over his thighs, dipping into the soft curls that rest almost, but not quite where he wants your touch the most.

"Maybe not yet. Going to let you decide that in time." His hand reaches back for you, searching for something to ground himself, to prove you're real, to deny the image in the mirror.

"I'm real, Kai. You haven't imagined me."

He turns in your arms, facing you. His cheeks are flushed with adrenaline and arousal, ears stained red from bloodrush. His leaking cock is the same bright hue.

"I'll make you feel good now, hmm?" You catch the whine from the back of his throat. He nods, cautiously. "You'll make me feel good too?" He nods again, slowly, unsure of what he's agreeing to.

"Good," you caress his face, gently pushing his hair from his eyes, "because I like to bite."

With superhuman speed your hand grabs his hard cock, jerking him so suddenly he thrusts up into your touch, body reacting involuntarily. The second that you've settled him back into place, your teeth find his throat, sinking deep into his vein. The hot blood rushes over your tongue and teeth, filling your mouth with the coppery sweetness you need to survive eternity.

He whines, a high note that falls as his hips stutter into your touch. The portrait before him is one of debauchery: blood weeping from his throat as his blushing cock weeps silvery precum and his hips buck into nothing. Scratch marks bloom across his chest where your nails rake over his sensitive nipples, but he cannot see your hand. The sight is dizzying. He feels faint.

You notice his color start to pale and force yourself to pull off from his throat, though it is a challenge to. The breathy sighs he makes, the feeling of his skin against yours, the rush of blood all taking over your senses, driving you towards giving into animalistic hedonism. You pull off his throat and lick broad stripes over the puncture wounds, venom telling the veins to close, the skin to heal. He will have two faint marks and a dark bruise in the morning.

He groans when you pull away, the venom fiery and soothing all at once. You stop your movements on his cock and he whines again, desperate for release.

“Shhh,” you soothe him, still trying to orient yourself after the rush of feeding, “that’s a good boy.” You settle him onto the pillows and maneuver yourself so you are settled between his thighs. “Did so well for me. Now let me make you feel good.”

Your mouth finds him again, this time lips and tongue, not teeth. You kiss the angry tip of his cock before licking a flat stroke against the head. Your lips are stained with his crimson blood, a beautiful compliment to his flushed and needy skin. He groans and bucks into your touch.

You take him into your mouth, sucking him earnestly as your hand strokes the base you don't fit in. He is close from your previous attention and it takes almost no time for him to groan loudly as he releases into your mouth. Salt floods your tongue, a welcome chaser for the copper meal. You've fed from him twice tonight and he is hazy and weak in your bed, the picture of human fragility as his chest heaves against your sheets.

You crawl up the length of his body to kiss his full lips, stroking his face as you do.

"Thank you Kai, you did so well."

"If I become like you," he asks, voice quiet, "will every night be like this?"

You can't help the smile that blooms across your face. An eternity with this beautiful boy? It wouldn't be the worst way to spend forever.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror

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[eyesxxyou]

Fun & Games

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. but it's truly all fun and games until you manage to get your hands on an interdimensional device.

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, possessive!hobie, public sex, y/n is a real hoe and I love her for that, odd love hate relationship, clit slapping, Gwen's here very briefly, wall sex, bondage, mentions of injury, just me being horny so it's kinda horribly written, lemme know if I missed anything

"She's gotta be somewhere." Gwen sat perched on a ledge, the eyes of her mask wide and alert for any sign of the anomaly. In other words, you. You had somehow managed to get your hands on a interdimensional device of Miguel's making and have been hopping all around the multiverse causing mayhem. "You sure you have no idea where she's at? She's from your dimension after all, not to mention-"

The thing is, the devices don't show exact locations. They just tell you what dimension others are in. Leaving Gwen and Hobie hopping about right after you to put you back where you belong.

It was Hobie's fault after all. Being the Black Cat of his dimension meant you were good at sleight of hand. A single run in with you and next thing he knows his device is gone, his cock is hard, and he misses you so fucking much.

"Yeah, yeah, i's my fault or whateva." He spoke over the communicator, his eyes scanning across the streets for just a peek of that brilliant white hair of yours. "I'll keep an eye out, jus' stay where you are and don't underestimate 'er. She'll put you on ya arse before ya know it." He's gone toe to toe with you plenty of times to know that you're rather skilled in combat. And for reasons he'd also know that you're flexible.

He cut off his device, the one Miguel reluctantly gave him after laying into him over his incompetence. "You're gonna deal with this mess you've made!" He almost crushed the device in his hand from gripping it so hard as he pushed it into Hobie's chest. "You get her back to where she belongs then you're out. You're done."

Hobie honestly couldn't give less of a damn about being booted from the society. Taking orders and being a part of a team was really cramping his style. Preferred it when it was just him and his own dimension's problems.

He hopped between buildings in this dimension looking for any marker of you. Your cloud-like hair done always in wild, untamed curls that somehow manage to sit perfect around your face. You wore black leather, nice sharp spikes, claws you made yourself that left their scar against his chest as well as down his back.

Hobie liked how complicated your relationship is. How you constantly kept him on his toes, remained so inconsistent that he never got bored. One second you were on your knees, his cock weighing heavy on your pretty tongue, just narrowly missing the angel bite piercings you had with fangs in, and the next, you were trying to claw his eyes out of his face. You were batshit fucking insane and he was absolutely in love with you though, he'd never admit that.

He hoped he found you before Gwen did— it's been just a little under a month and he's been feening for you, spending his lonely nights when he doesn't have a million wounds and a few broken bones to tend to with his hand wrapped firmly around his cock and your name wetting his lips with prayer. He's fucking pussy-whipped, desperate, absolutely nuts for you.

And when he finds you (which he always does somehow), you're hopping across a rooftop and sliding down a gutter into a nearby alleyway. He follows you stealthily, lingering in the shadows as he rounds the corner and drops into the shady alley. But he finds you aren't there. He pauses, talks a moment to let his instincts take the lead.

It just took a second, a small tingle, the hairs on the back of his neck standing but he hardly had any time to react before you were on his back with your claws pressed against his throat. "Ya missed me?" You whispered in his ear with the touch of a smile in your voice.

Hobie moved quickly, pushing the both of you back until your back slammed against the jagged brick wall and your grip loosened just enough for him to pry himself out of your clawed hold. He webbed you up with your hands trapped above your head. Your goggles were already pushed up into your wild hair and your cat-like eyes gleamed at him. "I'd say you do."

Hobie reached up and pulled off his mask. “Nice to see ya too, Y/N. We can have our reunion once ya back where ya belong.”

“Never took you as the type to join a committee of interdimensional spider fascist.” You scoff, wriggling your wrist against the binding of his webs but you know all too well how strong they actually are. Many times have you been caught in his web, bent in all sorts of positions. He’s always been your favorite toy.

“No’ by choice. You did me a fava’ actually, they gave me the boot ‘cause of you.” He came close, his tall, lean stature looming over you as he removed the watch from your wrist and deactivated it. Hobie looked down at you, looking into your sultry eyes that told him you just wanted to sit on his dick then make your grand escape. You’re always dressed in leather, your shorts so tight and small it leaves hardly anything to the imagination. You were wearing those torn up, distressed tights he loved so much and that he’s definitely torn his own fair share of holes in.

“Don’t you want to know why I went to the places I did?”

“There’s a reason?” He thought it was just you fucking around, trying to cause as much mayhem as possible, begin a nice little collection of diamonds stolen from different dimensions. Your motivations were always a bit hard to decipher.

You leaned in as close as you could in the position you were stuck in and whispered to him, “All the dimensions I went to had a version of you in them. I wanted to see which one was my favorite.” It was a confession of sin just between the two of you in this dark little alleyway he had you stuck in. “Would you like me to tell you about the other yous I’ve met?” You took his stoic silence as answer enough.

“There was one with the prettiest eyes. One blue and one brown. I got to look in them while I rode his pretty face. He made me cum so hard.” Your voice was so heavy with the memory of it but you didn’t linger. “And the other one, nice, long locs. He fucked me so good my legs were shaking. Oh- and the other one made me squirt for the first time-”

Your descriptions sparked something primal in Hobie, something carnal and possessive. A part of him was aroused at the thought of your pretty little cunt he was absolutely addicted to getting ran through by different versions of himself. Maybe you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you, why else would you do something like this?

“You a lil’ whore, ya know tha’, kitty?” His hands were already at the waist of your shorts, undoing the makeshift button you had made after he broke the original one a while ago. His lips were on yours, licking and biting feverishly in attempt to get a taste of you. “Guess I gotta remind you who you belong to.” He needed to tame your pretty little pussy, domesticate it, make it purr for him.

“I don’t belong to anyone, you know that.” You murmur against his lips, shifting your hips to make it easier for him to get your shorts out of the way. He pulled them down to your knees just above your boots and shifted away from you to duck under and slot his way between your nylon-clad thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of your body as he made his way back up, shoving your torn shirt up so his lips could feel your heated skin. “I’d beg to diffa, luv. I think you know ya slutty pussy belongs to me because why else would you hop aroun’ the multiverse just to hook up wit’ me ova and ova again?” He forced your shirt up over your tits, leaving you nice and exposed, unable to do anything about it even if you wanted.

“I’ve just gotta show you tha’ the original is always the bes’.” He had no time to take his time, to worship every inch, every curve, every dimple. He wanted his cock in you, he wanted to fuck you hard, fast, and deep. He wanted to destroy that pride of yours and force you to admit that he will always be your favorite.

He knows that's just how you like it. Rough, quick, and almost animalistic with a hint of risk. You can't get off without it. 

He tears a new hole in your tights right that the crotch and finds that your panties are already soaked, the vague outline of your plump pussy pressing against the fabric that clings to you like a second skin. He gets so hard at just the sight of it, so hard it becomes painful. "I's been a long fuckin' time." Hobie breathed out under his breath. "Ma favorite girl missed me I can see." He pressed the bulge of his cock against your wet, desperate cunt.

Your muscles tense and shudder uncontrollably as your lips attempt to contain a horrid little whimper. You weren't usually so sensitive, Hobie could feel your thighs clamping at his hips in an attempt to close your legs. His fingers slid past your panties and pulled them to the side just to find that your pussy was already pink and swollen, abused and misused by all the cocks you've already taken. You were so damn sensitive, your bud throbbing and engorged.

Hobie couldn't help but let out a chuckle, a smirk framing the scoff he let out. "A fuckin' slut, I tell you. You've already been so damn ran through." He slapped your pussy nice and firm and your whole body jolted with the pain and pleasure it caused and you cried out a little too loud.

"Migh' wanna be quiet. Ya don't wan' someone coming down and seeing your poor cut gettin' abused." His fingers slid between your slick folds, every part of you tender to the touch, every movement leaving your body trembling. It's pathetic how quickly he can have you and squeaking, whining, crying mess. A street cat tame by those long, slender fingers of his as he plays in your mess, a reminder of all the other hims you've had. You had been out on a conquest and somehow it's ending with you getting conquered.

It was easy for him to glide his fingers into your heat, the pad of his thumb drawing circles on your poor clit while he used his other hand to grab your chin and force you to look him in the eyes. "Can you feel tha'?' Your cunt was swallowing his digits down to the knuckle and squeezing. "Nice lil' kitty is purrin' fo' me. Think I migh' make 'er a house cat."

"Go fuck yourself." You manage to choke out between the strangled moans of your throat. Hobie chuckled and kissed you, nice and hard with his tongue against yours and his fingers playing your pussy like a fiddle. God, he was so good at what he did, knew just where your sweet spot was to have you crumbling in his hold. 

He pulled back a little, both of your lips wet with saliva, and nipped at your bottom lip. His fingers pumped in and out of your trembling pussy that wept for him, your slick dripping from his knuckles. You writhed against your restraints, claws sawing at his webbing to little avail. And you knew his fingers were nothing compared to that gorgeous cock of his that fit in you so snuggly and touched places that, before him, you hadn’t even known existed.

But his fingers were so good, able to caress your walls in ways his length couldn’t. His thumb rubbed your clit ferociously, sending spiked balls of pleasure to every muscle in your body. You spasmed, back arching off the walls, eyes rolling, vision blurry. “S-stop fuckin’ with me.” You manage to spit out at him in a shaking gasp.

“But fuckin’ wit’ ya is my favorite part.” Hobie slipped his fingers from your messy hole and took it upon himself to get a taste. “Plus, i’s no’ like you show me any mercy when ya in one of ya moods. I’ve gotta point to prove here.” His hands began to undo his belt with rushed persistence.

“And what point is that?” You watch him pull himself out, the length of his cock pressed against your pelvis. Prettiest you’ve ever seen, nice and long with subtle veins and dark brown tip beading with pearls of precum that weep from his tip and roll down the underside of his shaft.

Hobie maneuvered (more like manhandled) your fame so that your legs were up over his shoulders. He spat on his fingers, used it as lube to spread down his length. “Tha’ you ‘n I both know you can’t replace me with some off brand version.”

“Oh, I’d argue they were very on brand. All had that pretty face of yours. That prettier cock.” Your words faltered a bit as he pushed into you without so much as a warning, jealousy getting the better of him. His fingers grip your thighs, body pressing you into the wall while his hips rutted against you. He fucked you like an animal, his teeth gritting, his cock brutalizing your used up cunt. And the position allowed him to sink so deep you felt him in your gut, in your throat, in your very head. He fucked the air out of your lungs but that didn’t stop your cries of pleasure.

And as pretty as they were, Hobie didn’t need the two of you being stumbled upon. He placed his palm over your mouth, kept you placid and quiet white he fucked you with intention. He was gonna claim your pussy, paint it white, make it his, let you know that no matter how hard you try the two of you will always find yourself dancing to this same song. You’d fight, you’d fuck, you’d fight again, you’d fuck again. Sometimes you were allies, sometimes you were enemies, but at all times you were lovers.

He spanked your swollen clit while he fucked you in such a brutal nature. There was no sympathy for you, no mercy, no kindness offered. Just carnality unmatched by any of your other affairs. It might be the spider venom bound to his DNA making him this way. Hobie– normal Hobie, rational Hobie– was not a jealous person, especially not towards someone who, in all cases, did not belong to him.

The emotions of it were conflicting. The mixture of jealousy and arousal at the thought of you with another version of himself because in all the ways that made him who he was on paper was, he was with you every single time. Genetically, generally, the vague outline of himself. But the experiences were different, slightly tweaked in a way, and in the way that matters you had fucked entirely different people. And that was the fun of it. What would be the point of sleeping with the same person over and over again if not for the slight differences every time.

Hobie wondered if they made you feel this way, your back arching so dramatically off the wall, your eyes going cross with pleasure as your moans are contained behind his palm. The two of you had so much shared history that even if they were better, it still wouldn't compare. He knew you like he knew many things, on a level balanced by emotion and technicality.

The two of you were never meant to be anything more than this, a quick, filthy fuck in the back alley of some random place and yet you both were sure you were soulmates in some sick twisted way. You'd both go around in these pointless circles having the most fun with never making the effort to define yourselves or restrict yourselves to something that wasn't completely and entirely you.

Your toes curled in your boots as you felt the brutality of an orgasm coming your way. It built within you, clawing to get out like you clawed through the webs. It seized you like being strangled, curled around your body, left you warm and fuzzy and delirious.

"Look a' me, luv. Look a' me with those pretty eyes of yours." The way he fixed your face forward, made you look him in the eyes. "Nice lil' pussy gonna make me cum." Your walls spasmed, hugged him, squeezed around his length, molding to every curve, every vein. If only his hand weren't over your mouth, you'd kiss his pretty lips and tell him to shut the fuck up and just fuck you, just lose himself in you.

And oh, was he losing himself. An orgasm quickly approaching on the horizon. Hobie pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes low and sultry as he removed his hand from your mouth and gripped your thighs once more. "Fuck-" Hobie gasps and shudders, his abdomen tightening with the beginnings to a climax.

"Go ahead, pretty boy. You said you have a point to prove, right? Go ahead and prove it." You watched in breathless pants as he takes his pleasure in you, comes undone for you, his fingertips pressing bruises into your supple skin. "You're my favorite, my pretty boy." You confess to him. In all versions, you were simply looking for him, something you didn't find, no matter how eerily similar they all were.

Hobie murmurs something incoherent under his breath as he cums. He's swift with pulling out, just in time to spill his hot semen all over your heat. He claimed you like he always wanted to, with the way his hands left bruises in your skin, with the way his trembling cock spread his cum all over you, how his lips claimed yours in a moment of passion.

"You can stop pretendin' to be trapped now." Hobie murmured against your lips, pulling away and running his thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip before making himself decent. You had long sawed your way through his webs, they never last that long. You let your arms drop. "Finally, they were startin' to hurt." 

Hobie removes himself from your body, letting you take the time to get yourself together. "How much time do I have this time?" It was back to business as usual, not that either of you minded. You both enjoyed your games.

"A minute before I call my partna. Two before I start chasin' you myself." He always gave you a bit of a head start, maybe out of some soft spot he had for you. Sometimes he caught you, sometimes he didn't, it was all up to chance.

You pull your goggles out of you disheveled hair and fix them over your eyes. You lean into him, close enough that he thought you might kiss him. "I'll try not to break your nose this time, lovely." You peck his lips as a distraction as you slip your hand into the pocket of his vest and attempt to steal your stolen watch back.

Hobie's already thinking one step ahead of you. His hand grasps your wrist. "No' tha' generous. An' you've got 'bout 40 seconds lef'. Better get goin'." He's dealt with your bullshit more times than he can count. He knows what goes on in that pretty head of yourself, how you're always scheming, even against him— especially against him."

You scoff then chuckle. "Fine— c'ya 'round, Bee." You turn and rush off, grasping a gutter to leap up on the rooftop and run off.

You both love your fun and games.

[radishaur]

Second Chance (Un-Ascended Astarion x Reader)

Warnings: minor spoilers for BG3 (takes place post-game)

Genre: fluff, slight angst, suggestive

Part: 1/1

Summary: A lot has changed since the fight to save Baldur's Gate, Astarion included.

Author’s Note: This fic has minor spoilers for BG3 but I tried to keep it vague enough that you could read it without majorly spoiling it. The "reader" in this situation is Tav from the game, but Tav is practically a self-insert so you get the jist. Not a Durge fic (yet). Also, this is with un-ascended Astarion. I apologize if this is OOC, I have such a hard time pinning down his mannerisms. This has been rotting in my drafts for way too long, so I just decided to hell with it, it needs to get posted. Lastly, I took some liberties with his backstory since it's slightly vague. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Happy reading!

The only thing lighting up the barren city roads as you made your way back to your room was the dying flicker of the sparsely placed lamp posts. Not even the moon itself was making an appearance, cloaked behind grey clouds so thick that not even a ray of her light could reach the street below. It was nothing you weren't used to as an adventurer. The job kept you out late by nature since most of the types you were after did their business well after the sun had set.

The dark of night wasn't what sent a shiver down your spine. No, rather it was the unmistakable feeling that someone was watching you. Your time adventuring had taught you to recognize that feeling quite well and there was no mistake: someone was following you. You ducked into the nearest side street to draw them out and readied yourself to attack if necessary.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder was all you needed to react.

You shifted your weight forward and used the other person's clear surprise to throw them off balance and over your shoulder. They hit the ground with a thud and a groan and you crouched down and brought a knife to their throat before you even had time to register the set of all too familiar red eyes that were looking up at you.

When you finally looked down at who was beneath you, you felt sick. You would recognize that face anywhere, even upside down and in the dark. Hell, you think you would recognize him blind despite all the time that had passed since you'd seen him. He smirked, his fangs peeking out as he tsked.

"That's no way to greet an old friend, my sweet," he teased, still as confident as he ever was, even with a blade to his throat.

"Astarion," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't sound so shocked, darling. I told you I would come find you, didn't I?"

You didn't say anything, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. You thought about him quite often, but actually seeing him in person again was enough to send your mind spiraling down memory lane. From when you met, to your victory over the Absolute, to your bittersweet goodbye...

You were snapped back to reality by Astarion's voice once more, slightly softer as he spoke this time as if he saw the thoughts racing behind your eyes.

"Why don't you let me up," he said, despite the fact the grip on your knife had long since loosened, leaving him enough room to push his way up on his own should he have wished.

You swallowed thickly and stood up, stowing your knife back in its place before reaching a hand out for him to help himself up. He was already in the process by the time your hand was offered, but he took it anyway, using it to pull himself up to full height in front of you.

For all the time that had passed, he looked exactly the same. His skin was still milky white, his hair still curled around his pointed ears just so, and his eyes still found a way to look straight through you and into your soul. The faint light of the street lamps made him look ethereal, otherworldly even, as he stood in front of you.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, an air of disbelief in your voice as you regarded him.

"Don't tell me you forgot about our conversation," he said, a slight tease in his voice masking the very obvious concern.

And oh, what a stupid question that was, because how could you ever forget it?

"Hello darling. I was just thinking about freedom. How I'm free of the parasite - free of Cazador. How I'll never be in someone's power again And all it cost was my life in the sun. Now I belong to the shadows," he had said, gesturing his arms out to reference the dark of night around the both of you.

"What are you going to do? What's next?" you had asked.

He paused, thinking for a moment.

"I...I don't know," he admitted, taking a moment of silence to think before saying, "I've never been able to decide for myself."

"Now is as good a time as any to start," you had joked, hoping it would lighten the mood a bit before saying, "Let's celebrate our victory tonight properly. You can tell me what adventure we'll set out on then."

The night carried on, with all of your companions around the fire, telling stories and drinking together, happier than ever and without a care in the world. Later on in the night, the two of you snuck off together, just like you had in the early days of your traveling together. It had filled you with nostalgia and you told him as much as you laid next to him, staring up at the stars.

"We have come quite far together, haven't we," he said, although his voice had sounded miles away.

"What's wrong?" you had asked, shifting so your head was propped up and you were on your side to face him.

He didn't say anything for a long time, simply looking up at the stars with a frown. All you wanted to do was kiss away the wrinkles that furrowed his brows until he would smile once more, but you resisted, letting him have a moment to collect his thoughts.

"When I was Cazador's beloved spawn," he started, spitting out Cazador's name venomously like he always had, "I had no control over myself. I spent 200 years doing whatever he told me and paying the price the few times I didn't."

You nodded. This was obviously nothing new to you, but you also knew he wouldn't be saying it again if it didn't matter, so you stayed silent, encouraging him to continue.

"And then when I was finally free of him and had some level of control, I just reverted back to my instinct. I manipulated you for my own gain. Nothing had changed." he said, frustration evident in his voice as he said, "I don't even remember anything before Cazador. Not a damned thing. Only his stories of what happened."

"That must be difficult," you replied softly.

He didn't say anything to that, but he did finally turn to face you and even without the tadpole's connection you could still feel his emotions so clearly. The inner turmoil was written so plainly on him that you wondered how he had ever seemed like a mystery to you instead of an open book.

"My point is that I have no idea who I really am. I've always been following someone else's orders, someone else's plans. Even here, with all of you," he said, sighing before adding, "I don't know what kind of person I really am, without following the moral compass of everyone around me. I've only ever known orders."

You stayed silent for a few moments before deciding to ask, "Have you decided what you want to do after this? That might be a place to start."

"I want to go to the Underdark first. I can't just let my brothers and sisters wander aimlessly. Then maybe I'll come back here. Try and find clues of what my life looked like before... everything," he answered.

"Then we'll leave tomorrow. After it gets dark," you said with a smile before yawning, the adventures of the day finally catching up on you.

You missed the way his expression broke just slightly as your eyes scrunched up during your yawn. Whatever he had meant to tell you had died on his tongue and he simply kissed you, a little deeper than he ever had before, and let you fall asleep in his arms.

When you had woken up, you were in your tent instead of out in the grass. You had smiled at the image of Astarion carrying you there in the dead of night to tuck you in and made your way to his tent to thank him, only to find it missing. In its place was a small box and a sealed letter with your name scrawled out in a posh-looking cursive.

He had left in the middle of the night. Packed up his tent and left nothing behind except his last parting gift to you. You didn't open the box, still hadn't all these years later. You simply unsealed the letter with shaking hands and read the whole thing 3 times over. He apologized for leaving without saying anything to you but said he needed to learn how to be his own person before he was truly with another. He thanked you for everything you had done for him over your time together before promising to return and find you when he had figured everything out. He said that when he came back, he would be yours in every way you would take him, should you still want him.

He signed the letter with Your love, Astarion and that was the last you heard from him.

Your face soured as it all came rushing back to you in full force. You scowled at him, all your previous excitement that he had returned disappearing much like he had. Old wounds ached as if they were brand new.

"I would hardly call a letter left in the dead of night a conversation," you retorted, snatching the hand that you had forgotten was still holding his back to you.

His lips pulled into a small smile, lifting up at the corner, but his eyes saddened in contrast. You clenched your fists and looked away from him, needing a moment to collect your thoughts.

"No, I suppose you're right," he said, shuffling on his feet slightly before adding, "You have every right to be upset."

Your eyes whipped to him and the dam holding back your anger broke.

"Upset?" you asked, the venom in your voice causing him to startle slightly, "Upset doesn't even begin to cover it, Astarion."

You took a deep breath to steel yourself, to keep yourself from shouting at him in the middle of the dark alleyway.

"You left me in the middle of the night after everything we went through together. You took me to your grave and told me you didn't want to lose what we had and then you left," you said, your throat getting tighter and tighter with each word, "You let me believe I was coming with you and let me make a complete fool of myself. All I had left of you was some letter and a stupid box."

You shifted on your feet slightly as you thought about that exact box, tucked away in your dresser underneath all your clothes. It sat, unopened, atop the letter that had ripped your whole world apart. You looked back up at him, trying to gauge any kind of reaction from him as you said, your voice cracking despite it being no louder than a whisper, "It's been 3 years."

He kept quiet while you composed yourself for what was the third time that night and then took a tentative step forward. When you didn't move back, he took another and then another until he was right in front of you. His left hand went to yours and his right hand cupped your face gently, his expression suspiciously calm but his eyes were a swirling mix of different emotions.

You felt your heart rate accelerate at the proximity and you cursed yourself for still loving him after leaving so long ago without a word. With all your anger released you were left only with the profound longing to be with him, to touch him, kiss him, hold him close. Every detail you had memorized about his face was even more striking in person than you remember and hearing his voice again after so long...

"I know. There's no amount of apologies I could make that would undo that mistake, although I am deeply sorry. I was afraid to be honest with you and it made me a coward," he said, taking a deep breath as he pulled away slightly, letting his hand drop from your face, "You asked me why I'm here and I didn't answer you fully."

You didn't move even a single inch, worried that any movement would scare him away.

"I'm here....," he took another deep breath to steady his nerves before he continued, "I'm here because I love you. I thought about you every day these past 3 years and there's nothing more I want than to be with you. I want to apologize to you for how I handled things and if you do still feel the same way, I want to spend the rest of my immortal life proving that to you."

His eyes were open, bearing everything he was feeling for you to read. You saw his sincerity and his feelings plain as day. Your heart constricted as you thought about your next words.

"I...Astarion...," you stumbled over your words, trying to get your heart and your head to align as they both asked for different things.

"Give me a chance to explain and properly apologize. After that, if you never wish to see me again, then," he paused, trailing off before finishing, "I'll disappear into the night once more for good this time."

You hesitated, taking a moment to let your feelings settle. The swirling mix of anger, despair, and intense longing slowed the longer you looked at him, and left behind was only the feeling of anxious uncertainty.

You saw his eyes searching your face for a sign as the silence continued to drag out, but he didn't say anything. Didn't even make a move, once again letting you decide as he simply waited. You swallowed, thick as it stuck in your throat. This was the same man you knew from so long ago and yet he was so different. His time alone had no doubt changed him, but was that enough?

Before either of you had a chance to say anything more, footsteps echoed out in the street and you heard someone shout, "Hey! Who's there?"

Your eyes snapped from the direction of the voice back to Astarion and you knew that both of you would need to leave immediately if you didn't want to be caught. Regardless of your feelings towards him, you knew that a vampire being caught out at night would lead to nothing good and you didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He seemed to understand that as well as his face morphed into the more guarded expression you were used to seeing.

"If you decide to give me a chance, meet me at the town's overlook tomorrow night at 10 pm," he said, his voice low before he kissed your left hand and then disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway.

You weren't far behind, slipping into the shadows and making your way back to your room. You tossed and turned all night, the anxiety of tomorrow night and your impending decision looming over your conscience until you could finally get some sleep.

Despite having faced some of the worst horrors that Faerun had to offer, Astarion was pretty sure he had never been so nervous.

He exhaled to try and release some of his anxiety before stepping back to look at the setup he had laid out. He had placed a few thick, woven blankets on the ground to cushion against the hard dirt floor with a fuzzy, fur blanket on top. Off to the side, he put a magic phonograph programmed with the music he had curated for the evening, and right in the middle of the blanket was a tray filled with more fruits and cheeses than one could possibly eat.

He looked out over the cliff and down to the city, illuminated in the soft yellow light of the street lamps now that it was finally nighttime. The moon was peeking out through the clouds and a slight breeze was blowing the hair around his face and the leaves in the trees. For all intents and purposes, he had picked a perfect night.

There was still a good amount of time before you were supposed to arrive, so he simply leaned against the tree that was shading the blanket setup and waited anxiously.

He found himself watching the town below and reminiscing about his time with you. There was no guarantee that you would show up tonight, but there had never been any guarantees in your time together. With everything happening, there was never the promise of even the next day, yet you always came back. Chose him over any others and went out of your way to support him.

He spent more time than he liked to admit wondering if he had made the right decision in leaving. He knew that learning more about himself was something he needed to do, but he missed you more than he had anticipated. He knew that he loved you, but he had underestimated how that would affect him now that he wasn't around you all the time. You followed him like a ghost. He saw you in every face, heard you in every laugh, and taunted him in every kind action he witnessed.

After a while, he could admit that his fear drove him away in a harmful way. Afraid of his love for you and of what potentially dark secrets awaited him in his past, he ran. The more time he spent apart from you, the more he wondered if you had really loved him. The small part of his brain that whispered cruel nothings to him told him that you could never love him, not like he loved you at least. There was a chance that your connection to him was born purely from circumstance. Now, with no parasite connecting you and no shared goal to live, you might not feel the same.

He almost hadn't returned, but his guilt over how he left you and the regret he knew he would feel if he never tried to ask for forgiveness convinced him. Your reaction to seeing him had quelled some of his doubts. Maybe you weren't connected by the tadpole anymore, but your eyes betrayed your feelings just like they always had. There was a swirl of emotions there, battling for dominance, but he knew that somewhere in there amongst that conflict were the remnants of what he had broken. That bond built on love and sacrifice that brought him back from the dark path he was walking on before he met you.

He was brought back from his thoughts by a particularly cold gust of wind. He bit his lip slightly as he tried once more to calm his nerves. There was nothing for him to do but hope that you still loved him enough to try one last time.

The walk to the lookout was quiet. Fall had finally come after months of intense heat and the light cool breeze rustling your hair and nipping at your face was nice. Other than the sound of rustling leaves and your footsteps on the cobbled path, it was just you and your thoughts.

It would be easy to lie to yourself and insist that you had thought long and hard about whether to meet Astarion, but deep down you already had your answer from the moment he asked. So many years apart and he still had a hold on you.

Eventually, the cobble path turned to dirt and you found yourself hiking up the hill, your heart pumping from more than just the exercise. You were anxious to hear what he had to say but more than that you were worried about the next step. You loved him still, that much was undeniable, but you didn't trust him. That was something that would take a long time to build back up if it was even possible, and you wondered if things could really go back to how they were before.

Finally, you reached the top of the hill and the path flattened out. After walking further down the path, it began to open up and you found yourself breathless at the sight in front of you. Your eyes roamed over the blankets, food, and atmosphere that was laid out underneath the tree, each item placed with care. The breeze was rustling the tree leaves, causing a few leaves to fall here and there down on the blanket. Then, your eyes caught on Astarion. He wasn't facing you, his back towards you as he looked out over the town and you found that even from here he looked beautiful.

His clothes were similar to what he used to wear around camp, but they were made of much finer materials. His shirt was still frilly and the neckline still plunged down, but it seemed to be made of silk and the threads shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and his pants seemed to be a lot thicker material even though they were still black. If you didn't know better you would say that nothing about him had changed, but you knew that wasn't true. His hair which you knew from experience was always tamed was ruffling slightly in the wind.

If you were a painter, the scene in front of you would have been your masterpiece.

After a few moment, he must have felt someone staring because he turned his head slightly to face you. His lips pulled slightly at the corner into a smirk as he spoke.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Perhaps."

Your throat went dry as you looked at him more. His eyes looked you over and you were suddenly reminded that you were severely underdressed compared to him. You hadn't known what to expect, but fancy had not been on the list, so you'd simply worn some of your casual clothes and headed out. Despite that, his gaze still lingered and his smirk melted into a smile. When his eyes met yours, there was a fondness there that made your heartache.

He pushed himself off the tree and walked over to you where your feet were cemented on the dirt. When he was finally standing in front of you, you were relieved to see that he seemed just as nervous as you were. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and reached for your hand. You let him take it, your mind racing too fast to object even if you had wanted to.

"I'm glad you came," he said, pulling your hand up to place a small kiss onto your hand. "I... wasn't sure you would. You'd have every right not to."

"I needed to come. No matter what happens, I... we deserve the closure," you said, your voice quiet but firm.

He nodded, the gesture slightly stiff as the reminder of what tonight could possibly bring hung between the two of you. Still holding your hand, he stepped to the side and gestured with his free hand to the blankets. "Let's catch up and then we can talk."

You gave him your own nod and followed him to the blankets. The closer you got, the more you saw of the view and oh it was lovely. The flickering light of the candles Astarion had laid out around the blanket mixed with the lantern light of the city below, casting everything in a warm glow. It was high enough that you could talk uninterrupted but close enough that the faint noise of the bars and late-nighters could be heard.

Suddenly, you heard music and turned to see that Astarion had started the music machine which was playing some light romantic music. He turned it down so that it didn't overpower your soon-to-be-had conversation and motioned for you to join him on the blankets.

"So," he said as you sat down beside him, "What have you been up to since I've been gone."

Despite how you were still upset with him, your conversation flowed freely. You told him of your job as an adventurer, how you met occasionally with Shadowheart, Halsin, and some of the other members of your group who were still in Bauldur's Gate or nearby, and other stories to fill in the gaps since you had last seen him. In turn, he shared his story with you.

He'd spent the first few months away getting the spawn under control and settled in the Underdark, which had been a task in and of itself. While he was there, he began to adjust once again to life in the shadows. After a while, he set out to do what he originally wanted to do: learn about his past. He knew vaguely about his life before Cazador, just bits and pieces that Cazador had thrown his way when he was "behaving", but now he had a much larger picture.

He had hoped to find his parents alive and well, but unfortunately for him, that was not the case. Cut down not unlike him, his parents were long dead. Whether it was connected to his decision as a magistrate that got him killed was unclear, but it stung all the same. He searched record after record and finally found something that led him to a vacation house not far out of Bauldur's Gate. It was beaten and not well taken care of, but it held more than he could have imagined about his life before Cazador. Pictures, journals, notes, and records stuffed the house and he had combed through them all meticulously. That, combined with the legal records he had been able to get his hands on, painted a clearer picture of who he used to be.

He shared it all with you, promising to take you there and show you some of the pictures himself, should you let him. You talked for hours and barely noticed the hum of the city die down as the night progressed. In all honesty, it was easy to forget why you were here in the first place. The pain and betrayal faded into the background as you talked and you found yourself relaxing more and more. Eventually, he had finished sharing everything and the silence that followed was peaceful.

After hearing him talk, it was clear that he had changed a lot on his journey. The Astarion that once hid between a mask of seduction and good looks was gone, replaced by a man who was much more confident and sure of himself. He was still a flirty, cocky bastard, but he was more genuine. He wasn't afraid anymore. He had gone out into the world and figured out exactly who he used to be and was standing on the other end of it more sure of who he wanted to be in the future. As much as his departure still hurt, you couldn't help but be happy that he seemed so much happier.

The song changing broke you out of your thoughts and you saw Astarion watching you from the corner of your vision. When you turned to meet his gaze, you felt some of the air around you thicken with tension. Astarion must have noticed the shift as well because he stood up and held a hand out for you to take.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice hopeful as he added in a slightly more teasing tone, "I can show off those dance lessons my dear parents paid for."

The reference to his previous story of his upbringing made you laugh and you took his hand as he pulled you up to your feet. "Let's hope they stuck."

He led you to the side of the blankets, close enough to the outlook that you could still see the city and the ocean, but not so close that either of you would fall. He carefully positioned your hands and then his own before moving slowly into a dance. The two of you swayed to the sound of the music, making it easy for you to follow him. Aside from a few fancy moves spinning you around, he mostly just held you close to him. His grip was firm but soft, as if you were something precious to him.

"This reminds me of our first night together," you said, referring to the first night you had spent alone with him.

His mouth quirked up at the comment, clearly amused by the comparison. "I suppose it does."

"It's...," you trailed off, struggling to find the right words to explain it. You met his eyes and settled on, "It's beautiful. Who knew you were such a romantic."

"Only for you, darling."

He held your gaze, his tone devoid of any teasing and it made your heart skip a beat. His thumb rubbed a soothing pattern into your hip as you continued to sway, your eyes never leaving his. He was silent for a long time, neither one of you wanting to break the moment, but eventually, he spoke.

"As much as I'd like to just stay here and enjoy the evening, that wouldn't be fair to you. I owe you a true explanation and an apology."

You stilled slightly, his words reminding you once again why you were here tonight. You nodded at him to indicate that you were ready and continued to dance with him.

"That night, when you were asking me about the future, I began to panic. I told you that night in the graveyard that I wanted something real with you and I meant it, but... I got scared. I kept thinking about how much I never knew about my past and how little I knew about myself now that I was free and it ate away at me. It dawned on me that there was a very real possibility that you would learn the truth about what I was like before Cazador or that being free of the tadpole would change how you saw me and that you would leave. I was terrified of losing you and I let myself slip back into old habits as a result. Hurt them before they can hurt you, and all that."

As he spoke, his eyes clouded over and his grip on you tightened slightly, his stress shining clear as day on his face. You shifted your hand out of his, resting your arms around his neck. He let his other hand grab your waist to match the other and you let yourself play with the hair brushing against the nape of his neck as he continued.

"I'm glad that I left on my own because I needed to learn how to live now that I was free. I have no memories of almost anything before Cazador, so my whole life felt like it was lived being controlled, first by Cazador and then by the Absolute. I loved you and I... I still love you," he said, voice wavering slightly at the admission of his feelings, "But, I needed to learn how to just be. Being in a relationship with you, wasn't like being controlled, but I needed to learn how to be myself. It was something I needed and I'm glad that I can say I know who I am now, but I shouldn't have left the way I did. I should have come to you about it, but I let myself fall back to how I used to act instead."

He stopped dancing then, pulling you closer with one arm and letting the other come up to brush against your throat before cupping your face. The gentleness of his touch made you shiver slightly and his grip on your waist tightened once more.

"I'm sorry, for leaving you in the middle of the night without a word. It will be one of my life's biggest regrets. I thought about you every day that I was gone and I still feel the same about you as the day I left. If you let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I'm yours in every way that you'll take me, should you still want me."

His last line quoting the letter broke the last of your resolve as you leaned into his touch, your eyes watering as you finally spoke.

"You're an asshole. I'm glad that you're happy, but I hate that you told me you loved me and then left in the middle of the night. I hate that you made me wait here for so long without another word from you. I hate that you sauntered so easily back into my life with that stupid, smug smirk. But mostly, I hate that despite all of that I still love you," you said, your voice wavering as tears finally spilled down your face, "I love you just as much as I did before and nothing can change that. Not even you."

You hadn't realized as you were talking just how close to him you had gotten, your hands fisted into his shirt and his hair, but now it was clear as day, even with your eyes clouded by tears. You didn't have time to react before you felt him lean down and slot his lips against yours. His kiss was firm and filled with so much passion and you met him with a fierce determination of your own. Your lips fell into a familiar rhythm, almost as if it hadn't been years since the two of you had done this.

He pulled away slightly, murmuring I love you's against your skin as he kissed his way from your lips to your cheeks, the gentle press of his lips kissing the tears away. It was too much and yet not enough all at once. You clung to him like a lifeline as he met your lips once more, his kiss like a breath of fresh air as you were drowning at sea. You didn't know when he had picked you up and moved you onto the blanket, but suddenly you were on his lap underneath the tree once more.

His touch was like fire, burning everything it touched and you wanted more. You wanted it all and he was more than happy to oblige. The world around the two of you faded into nothing as he gave you everything, skin to skin, heart to burning heart.

Later, as the two of you lay under the stars and blankets pressed up against each other, he pulled a box out from its hiding spot amongst the blankets. You shifted slightly, pulling the blankets with you as he sat up with the box now in hand. It only took a few moments for you to recognize what it was.

"How did you get that?" you asked, confusion evident. "That's been tucked into my dresser for years."

"You wound me, darling. A man of my talents can steal anything with enough time and resources."

You felt a lump grow in your throat as you looked at the box. You would recognize that box anywhere, its image haunting you in your nightmares about that day. You never had the courage to open it after reading the letter Astarion had left and that same trepidation came back in full as it stared back at you now.

"Admittedly, I was hopeful about how tonight would go. I knew there was a chance you hadn't opened it, so I grabbed it from your room before you came back for the day," he explained, the hand next to yours on the ground brushing against it in reassurance.

He repositioned slightly and opened the box. The inside of it was a plush red velvet and nestled right in the middle, a ring. Not a wedding ring or even anything incredibly fancy, but a ring nonetheless. It was polished steel with three small gems embedded in the middle. Their colors danced in the light and you found yourself reaching out to touch it.

"What...," you said, your voice failing you for the millionth time that night.

"Consider it a promise," he supplied, his voice quiet as he plucked the ring out of the box and guided it onto one of your fingers. "I want something real with you. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

You had both changed significantly in your time apart. Astarion had broken your trust and it would be a long time before it would fully come back. You knew things could never go back to how they were before, but maybe that was ok. Maybe you both weren't the same people you used to be, but you were both learning, both trying to be better, trying to navigate life after the Absolute, trying to live. Maybe that trust was broken, but that broken bond could come back stronger. There was no doubt in your mind as you kissed him once again, murmuring against his lips.

"Here's to forever, then."

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[talesofesther]

wildflowers

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Astarion has shared a lot of firsts with you already, and you just so decided to add one more to the list.

A/N: A little something special for valentine's day. <3

Masterlist

You'd grown up around flowers.

With your mother being a druid, it was only natural that wherever you went, nature followed. Even in your family's estate back in the city, the walls were adorned with all kinds of colorful plants and vines, the air feeling all the more pure inside your lungs and the green leaves being a sight for any sore eyes.

You'd spend hours in the garden, tending to the seedlings and speaking more with the flora than you did with people.

That's why, after the nautiloid's crash and as you walked through unknown lands, you found some semblance of comfort in all the wildflowers adorning your mysterious path.

You hummed a song under your breath as your boots crushed the gravel underneath, feet a little sore with all the walking you'd done today, but you needed to reach the shadow-cursed lands as soon as possible; how much time you had left remained uncertain.

Shadowheart had already started complaining about the rough terrain too, and with the sun starting to set on the mountainous horizon, you figured you could set up camp soon.

"I'm not offering any rides, if that's what you're thinking."

You caught the end of the cleric's conversation with Astarion, and at his quip, you changed a glance in his direction.

He caught your gaze, lips quirking in a small smirk as he gave you a wink that got you avoiding his stare again when you felt warmth coming to your cheeks.

You'd grown fond of the pale elf, it's true. But part of you thinks he's grown fond of you, too. At first, his smiles at you were sharp as a dagger or overly seductive, yet lately, there's been a softer edge to them.

Blinking at the golden sunlight in your eyes, you started scouting the area for a good place to rest, and that's when you caught sight of a patch of white on the ground. Leaving your companions to discuss amongst themselves whether it was late enough to camp or not, you walked up to it.

There, on the edge of a set of bushes and trees, stood a small bundle of star-shaped white flowers, their six petals delicate and thin; the bright white stood out amidst the deep browns and greens.

You reached down to run a gentle finger over one petal. And as you plucked a single flower from the bunch, you couldn't help but think of him.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

Bags were being dropped onto the ground with a few tired groans escaping your companions. You'd found a decent enough place, tucked in between old ruins and overlooking a breathtaking view of the nearly set sun.

You gave a sympathetic smile to Karlach as you passed by her tent, watching with a fond glint in your eyes as your fiery friend ruffled the fur of her teddy bear. Such a softy at heart.

Astarion had his nose buried in a book, and that's where you were headed. Whenever he concentrated on his reading, he'd furrow his brows ever so slightly; sometimes he'd play with his fangs, running his tongue over them and biting his lower lip. It was endearing, you wondered if he knew he did it.

You approached him, heart in your mouth and white flower held in between your fingers. The last of the golden rays were kissing his skin, he looked ethereal.

"Hey," you spoke lowly, the moment seemed to call for it.

The elf perked up at your voice, a smile instantly painting his face as he closed his book to settle his attention on you. "Hello darling, what can I do for you?"

You shook your head briefly, "Nothing, I just came to give you this." You raised the single flower with a timid tilt of your lips, hesitating on your next words, "It… reminded me of you."

Astarion looked at you as if you'd just asked his hand in marriage. He kept quiet, eyes way too wide and jaw way too tense for such a simple moment. You wondered if you'd somehow poked at something you weren't supposed to poke. If flowers brought him bad memories or if maybe he was allergic to them.

You watched as he gulped, avoided your eyes, and then looked at you again. He raised his hand but it was a clumsy gesture, as if he had no clue what to do.

Your heart shattered when you wondered if he had ever received any flowers in his life.

Taking half a step closer, you took the liberty of placing the flower in Astarion's hand, wrapping your fingers around his own so you could close his grip around the delicate thing. "It's for you." You reassured again.

With a gentle smile, you ran your thumb over his knuckles and turned around to check on your other companions, figuring he could use the time alone.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

Astarion never cared much for flowers.

In his 200 years of torment, trapped in an eternal night, there wasn't much room for color and delicacy.

There were rare times he saw it, when he'd stumble upon a young couple, one person bowing lightly with a smile as they gave the other a flower; both drunk in passion. He never understood the gesture. Everyone did it, but why?

Was it a silent request for something in turn? Was it a sign of commitment? Or did it happen simply to show affection?

In any case, he did not need to understand it, it's not like anyone would be handing him flowers.

Wrong. Maybe he did have to.

Because you had just given him a flower.

You had captured his attention ever since he put a dagger to your throat when you first met. His excuse for the captivation was because you'd be an easy one to seduce, nothing more. He'd charm you, gain your affection, and secure his safety in your group of misfits that you were unintentionally leading.

A simple plan, all he had to do was not have any feelings of his own. Yet it seemed like your plan, was to make his more difficult.

"It's for you." You'd told him, voice as sweet as honey and as soft as velvet as you placed the white flower in his hand.

Astarion held onto the delicate plant as if it could crumble between his fingers.

Would he care if it did? The thought certainly didn't bring him joy.

His mouth stayed agape, fangs barely poking from behind his lips. Looking between you and the pale white of the flower, he didn't know what to make of it. Did you want something from him? Was there some hidden message behind the gesture he was yet to understand?

You simply gave him a soft smile, bashful eyes avoiding his, and kept on walking. Just like that. As if you hadn't just turned his world upside down.

Was this what… affection looked like?

A small scoff escaped Astarion then. Clearly, his plan was working, you were growing fond of him. So naive, so easy.

But then… why did he feel like his dead heart was the one coming back alive only so it could beat for you?

All of a sudden he felt tainted for treating you as if you were nothing more than one of his victims. But did that mean he wanted you to be something more?

The question didn't even seem like it was his to decide anymore.

Astarion looked down at the delicate flower in his hand, twirling it around and making the petals dance.

"It reminded me of you."

His ruby eyes seemed to sting. When was the last time someone had compared him with something as delicate and precious as this?

He looked up at you again, watching as you crouched down to cup Scratch's cheeks and most likely spoke with him in that silly voice you always made.

There was a weight in Astarion's chest, heavy yet warm, scary yet pleasant. He wondered, would you catch him if he fell for you?

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

Next morning you woke up to the sight of a carefully crafted bouquet resting just beside your bedroll. Wildflowers of all colors and shapes held together by a single strip of red satin.

Astarion watched from afar, as you picked it up and buried your nose into the flowers, smiling brightly as your fingertips traced the shape of them.

When you raised your gaze to him, a dark blush dusted his cheeks and the tip of his ears. He didn't know what love looked like; but he's learning, he thinks. And if the feeling inside his chest is any indication, it looks a lot like you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @asterordinary

[jadeoru]

SMUDGED LIPSTICK!

11: fresh start -> prev / mlist / next

now playing: i dont like who i was then - the wonder years 🎶

The uproar of cheering and applause thumped in your head. Your forehead was slick with sweat, and you were still catching your breath as you ran backstage. Your back pressed firmly against the wall, heart beating so loudly you could hear it; adrenaline coursed through your veins. You watched as the rest of the band flooded into the room, smiles spread widely on each of their faces - even tsukishima’s. Nishinoya was jumping so much so you worried he would take flight. Excitement surged through the room, it was moments like these in which you found yourself appreciating all of the effort you put in to reach this point. All of the shows that went wrong: when you got booed, when you got into fights, when there were tech problems that ultimately ruined the entire show, when your nervousness found a home inside of you, feeding off of your doubts; shaking your hands, and trembling your voice. All of those humiliating, daunting moments you faced together. Everything had to go wrong for the present to feel so right. You were exactly where you belonged. 

“Oh my god did you see the crowd? They went fucking insane!” Nishinoya practically yelled, arms flailing around as if they were fueled by raw excitement. Everyone nodded their heads exhilaratingly. “Holy fuck guys, we killed it!” you ran your fingers through your hair, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. All eyes turned to you as everyone smiled. With a shout of your name, your friends began to drown each other with their praise. Kiyoko’s voice boomed through your ears, “Yn, your stage presence is absolutely captivating - We’re so lucky to have you in the band! Without you the crowd would probably be asleep!” placing her bass safely against the wall, she walked up towards you and pulled you into her arms. You smiled so hard your cheeks began to ache, leaning into her warm touch. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re gonna make me cry, Shimizu. Oh my god I love you so much. You're the best damn bass player I've ever seen.” you laughed, squeezing her tightly one last time before pulling away. She simply kept smiling, before turning back to the other members, and continuing her words of admiration towards them. You stayed with the others for a good while, spewing your affection to them insistently, before taking a deep breath in.

“Guys. I think I'm gonna go find Sakusa.” 

Despite being 6-foot-something and undeniably the sexiest man in the bar, finding him proved to be impossible. Your eyes searched the whole building. Every time you thought you were getting close, all you were met with were traces of him: a white surgical mask stuck to the sticky floor, a half empty bottle of hand sanitiser abandoned on a somehow even stickier table. All you could find was proof of your clean freak ex-best friend’s presence, but not the actual man himself. Frustrated, and growing tired, you got yourself a vodka cranberry and stood awkwardly in the corner of the room. Maybe he’d find you instead?

After a few minutes of wallowing in regret and reminiscence of your memories, your hopes of seeing him again were quickly discarded as a group of people approached you. They looked at you with metaphorical fangs bared, and eyes filled with envy. Oh fuck.

“Hey, ‘yer the girl that was singing on that stage, right?” one of them called out. He was tall and lanky, with messy hair and a drunken slur in his voice. the rest of them snickered from behind him. He must’ve been the ‘leader’ of the group. You straightened your back defensively, trying to seem taller; more intimidating. “And what if I am?” your eyes flicked to the people behind him, who laughed.

“It’d be a shame. Yer way too pretty to be singing stuff like that. Enough of that emo bullshit.” you scowled, rolling your eyes. Was this guy serious? “I’ll sing whatever the fuck I want, asshole.” your lips curved downwards, trembling slightly with brewing anger. He smiled at you sinisterly.

“You’ll never get a husband with that attitude, doll. Men aren’t into that edgy style ya know?” he spoke in a patronising tone that you couldn’t bear.

“Am I supposed to care what dickless men like you think of me?” you knew you shouldn’t be speaking to him like this, you knew that it would only make the situation worse. but, you were way too stressed out to deal with this maturely. If he wanted to start a fight, then you’d finish it.

“You should - Just look at you! You’d be so much prettier without that black shit all over yer face. And the screamo music? Are ya tryin’ to look like a weirdo?” Did he seriously come up to you just to say pointless bullshit like this? Your fists clenched with anger, jaw clenched as you looked at the group of men with all the hatred you could muster up. “Suck my dick.” you spoke through gritted teeth. His eyes widened with shock, surprise quickly being replaced by offence. “‘Scuse me?” he asked, but you both knew he heard you well. The rest of his group looked at each other with a sinister expression, as if they knew what would happen next. You took a step forward, not caring if your boot stomped on his foot in the process. “I said,” you poked a finger at his chest hardly, enunciating each word with a rough poke. “Suck. my. Dick.” you spat at him. Muttering a low ‘you bitch’, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly, almost in an attempt to break the bone. “Yer gonna fuckin’ regret that - you bitch. I’m gonna fuckin ki-” His words were quickly cut off as he was pulled backwards by the back of his shirt. He turned around, eyes widening in fear as he stared at the man now in front of him.

Staring at this man with pure disdain was none other than Sakusa motherfucking Kiyoomi. And he was pissed. 

“Leave her the fuck alone.” he pulled him back harsher, causing him to stumble over, nearly falling. His words shot out like bullets, laced with venom that tasted like pure hatred. The man quickly stuttered out his apologies, aware of how much weaker he was in comparison to him. “Hey man- it was just a joke! We were just playin’ around!” you almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic the man looked now, if not for being frozen in complete shock. “Yeah? Well it’s my turn to play around then.” he spoke with the ghost of a smirk on his face. You could see the way his fist was clenched, his knuckles were white as he held onto the fabric of his shirt. Without warning, he raised his hand, and punched him in the gut. As he leaned over in pain, grunting dramatically, Sakusa took this as the perfect opportunity to push him, slamming the man down to the ground. The people around you quickly processed what was happening, and tried to avenge their fallen friend. They circled you and Sakusa with the look of pure evil displaying on their features. Before they could get their hands on him, Sakusa grabbed you by the arm, and dragged you to the back of the bar, leading you outside.

The cold night air pricked at your shoulders, as you stared at the man in front of you. “Holy shit, Sakusa..” you muttered, still in disbelief from what just unfolded in front of you. He took a step towards you, and with a fast beating heart, you took a step back. Your back pressed against the wall as you stared up at him. He scanned your face for any sign of injury, before whispering, “Are you okay?” In stark contrast to a few minutes ago, his voice was much softer now - much like his gaze. You nodded your head shyly, scared that if you spoke up now, you’d accidentally let out all of your emotions. You’d be damned if you didn’t think he was hot as fuck back then. You’d never forgive yourself if you accidentally told him that. He hummed at your response, eyes flicking to the door to make sure you were alone.

“Are you ready to listen to me now?” he asked, trying to sound calm, but there was no denying the desperation in his voice. You struggled to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. “What if I say no?” he leaned in closer to you, almost enough to feel your breath on his face.

“Then i'll keep waiting”

You smiled at him. You smiled at him for the first time in forever. He treasured the sight with every ounce of his being. You were just as beautiful as you were the day you left him. He couldn’t help but smile back, albeit significantly smaller. “Will you keep annoying me about this?” you asked, crossing your arms, your smile shifting into a playful smirk. “Of course I will.” he said, blunt as ever. You chuckled. “Then fine. Talk to me.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he began speaking. “Look. About… then - I…” he paused for a moment, searching for the right words to say. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for the things I said to you - For what I did to you. I know that saying sorry isn’t enough to repair the pain I put you through but I swear I’ll do anything to make it up to you. And I know i sound fucking pathetic right now but I just need you to know how much I regret everything that’s happened between us.” The way he spoke was the exact opposite of how he normally was: messy, frantic, unprepared and, of course, pathetic. He wasn’t sure how long he was talking for, in all honesty he wasn't sure how to stop. He explained everything to you, not leaving out even a fraction of how he had felt or what was going through his mind. You had to do a few double takes to make sure this was still the same Sakusa you had known before. For once, you thanked his blunt honesty. He rambled on and on, only stopping to catch his breath. When he finally stopped, you could see the embarrassment that shadowed his eyes. It was evident that his mind was beating him up for talking so much. A moment of silence hung around you. You struggled to fill it. 

You looked at the ground, taking in his words. “Sakusa.. I-” A few seconds passed by. “I was not expecting that.” you said with a nervous chuckle. He let out a quiet groan of shame, looking away from you. He was adorable. You took a moment to put your next sentence together, processing every word of his apology. With a shaky sigh, your eyes met his again. He prepared himself to face your anger, bracing himself to hear the insults you would inevitably sling at him. He didn’t doubt for a second that he deserved it. But they never came. “Thanks for… all of that.” you laughed awkwardly, “I mean it. You have no idea how much I needed to hear those words from you. I don’t think it’s possible for me to keep being mad at you after hearing all of that.” you smiled at him again, tongue between your teeth. You swallowed, before continuing, “I’m sorry too. I should’ve let you explain yourself sooner. I was just so angry! I mean- you left out of fucking nowhere, y’know? I was so pissed off I couldn't stand to look at you, because I knew I'd forgive you immediately. It sounds stupid now that I’m saying it out loud…” you paused, looking into his eyes. “I’m so sorr-” he cut you off,

“Don’t say that. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His voice was low, truthful. Another beat of silence passed, before he started talking again. “Do you want to forgive me yet?” he asked, not doing anything to mask the pleading look on his face. His heart was racing, and he wasn’t sure whether it was nervousness or anticipation. Honestly, it was both. The thought of not forgiving him hadn’t crossed your mind once. You’ve waited way too long for this moment. With a smile, you pointed your finger to him.

“I forgive you. But, we won’t go right back to being friends. You have to earn that, okay?” your harsh words contradicted the happy expression on your face. He smiled wider than you’d seen in a while.

“Understood.”

Without saying another word, you pulled him into your arms; hugging him tightly. He stood there for a second, before wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours. He relished in the warmth of your embrace. God, he missed this.

“Thanks for giving me a chance.”

extra:

i have nothing to say except for how happy i am to get this chapter out god bless 🙏🙏THEY ARENT BEEFING ANYMORE!!!! HOORAY!!

TAGLIST: @gojoed @anianurst @itsdragonius @sleepy-writer84 @yuminako @wolffmaiden @tenjikusstuff4 @juie13 @ilyless @arachnoia @choizzn @3lectraheart @sugarrhiccupp @bbybibi @diorzs @le000xxgrd @aboveasphodel @petrus1989 @aria-in-wonderland @walllflowerrrsss @wave2mia @loveelylacey @marimisses @alpha-mommy69 @thepurpleempath @theauthorunicorn @v1oletfury @iluvmang @slashkxe @theycallmenanamisgirl @dailyakira @loverlunaire @iovetooru @ryukumi @soupofmushrooms

reply to be added ^__^

[crypt-keepers-den]

I need more of Astarion and his little spawns- You don't understand how much I fucking loved that fic, PLEASE WE NEED MORE DADDY STARION 😭😭😭

I DIED BUT NOW IM BACK ENJOY!

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Astarion never claimed he'd be a good father, but as soon as your little ones arrived into the world he sure was the proudest. When Lyra, your oldest had been born he fainted (can vampires faint idk), and when you announced your pregnancy with your youngest, Caspian, he was elated and told anyone who'd listen that his darling was blessing him with a second child.

when your oldest was born he was too frightened to hold her, in fear that he'd hurt her, but after a long talk from you (and a stern talking from halsin who'd offered to help you deliver naturally) he did hold her, frozen in place however as he did so. "she's perfect my darling" soft silvery tears cascading down his pale cheeks as the new-born yawns, when your youngest was born, he was prepared this time, holding your hand with confidence as you brought a new life into the world, bringing your 1yr old daughter into the bedroom to meet her baby brother, the elf had a grin etched on his face.

becoming a parent is one thing, but a parent to a dhampir baby is another, when lyra started teething you found out the harsh way. One evening you had lifted the infant to breastfeed her, settling back down on the couch with the infant nestled to your chest as she contently latched, your adoring husband sitting next to you a book in hand, his free hand stroking the top of his daughter's head. "star, read that page again i was too focused on lyra" he nods starting again until he heard a sudden yelp from you, "my love whatever's wrong?" he watches you exam the giggling baby's mouth "holy Avernus, star she's got fangs!" his eyes widened at your discovering as he leans over to see what your talking about, your holding the drooling baby's mouth open to allow him to see the two little white points that had pierced through lyra's gum. His eyes widen now understanding what had happened causing him to laugh, earning him a rough slap to the shoulder and a stern glare. safe to say you switched from breastfeeding to bottle and continued to do so with your second born (not that it helped but it saved your poor breasts from being gummed on by your children atleast).

Astarion prided himself in his inability to say 'no' to his children, "papa can i has?" caspian stares up at his father with the same puppy dog eyes you use on him, "caspian no treats before dinner!" you'd call out, the little boy would then pout before looking back up at his daddy, "papa a'peas", oh dear your son has him in the palm of his chubby little hands, astarion cant remember his childhood anymore, nothing but faint smells of what he assumes is his mother's perfume, but he does remember having nothing when he was under cazadors control. And he had made a promise at each child's birth, they'd never suffer like he had and they'd want for nothing. in this scenario its astarion sneaking your son a cookie before dinner, the pair hiding under the kitchen table laughing "our little secret little starling" , "you two know i can see you right?" "quick run!". with choas ensueing as you chastise the pair for ruining their appetite for dinner.

"lyra please stopping scaring your brother with your bat form!", the first time your daughter had found out she could shift scared you shitless, toddler lyra suddenly poofing into a bat mid hiccup causing you and astarion to jump out of your skin, not knowing how to get lyra to turn back until she hiccups again poofing back and landing in a panicked astarion's arms while giggling at her parents panicked faces. Since then astarion had taught her how to use it properly, however she had a terrible habit of scaring her little brother with it, startling the tot causing him to wail and run to the nearest parent crying "a bwat!, a mama! a papa! noo!" earning lyra a scolding, you and astarion made her promise to not use her abilities in the cottage and not infront of her brother, not until he was a little older anyway.

(hey! im back with some dadstarion stuff! how are we all liking this? i could go on forever about dadstarion scenarios, what would you like to see?)

[whatever-imagines]

Sweetheart

Rated: M, for violence, detailed-ish description of an injury, mentions of vomitting, unconsensual licking, and the allegory.

—-

The woman before was wild-looking. Her hair was long and tawny blonde, sticking up everywhere before coming down her back. Her eyes were such a dark brown, they were almost black, and you could hardly see the slit pupil. You didn’t like how familiar the brown in those eyes were. Her clothes were also strange, considering she was with a villain mutant group; black tank top and a full fur coat? What was she, a pimp?

The woman breaths in deeply, almost euphorically she smiles before her gaze settles on you again. You see her top row of fangs in her mouth.

“She smells like she’s been aaaaaalllllllllll over you…” she husky voice growls out.

“Who’s she?” You ask, voice quivering. You were not meant to be fighting, you were meant to stay on the ship but the comms went dead and you couldn’t feel Jean in your head so you left the safety of the jet in pursuit of your comrades.

In the snowy woods, you found this woman.

She laughs. Low and gruff, rumbling and gravelly. You could hear the danger in her laugh. “The pup; you’d be calling her Logan now.”

You still at the mention of your friend’s name. Logan and you had become close recently; with her constantly watching you and helping you around the mansion as you teach the various students. You do like Logan quite a bit, but that was a secret only for you to know (and possibly Jean with how snoopy she is).

“Oh?” The woman chuckles. “Struck a cord, huh? Don’t worry little thing…” the woman drawls, smiling widely, hauntingly. “She’s on her way now!”

You hear someone, impossibly distant from you, scream your name in a desperate fashion. Logan, somewhere in the woods.

“She’ll know this reminder is from me.”

“SABERTOOTH!”

And then your side erupts with pain. You didn’t even see the woman move.

Sabertooth smiles viciously down to you, eyes almost gone with how wide the slit had became. In your side, her three nails penetrate you in a white hot agony. You can’t even scream, it hurts so bad.

“Betcha she don’t finger you like this, huh?” She quips, inside your ribs she wiggles her fingers and you nearly vomit.

Logan, much closer now, roars your name.

You black out before she could reach you-

—-

“No serious damage done.” Jean had said.

You begged to fucking differ.

Sure, the razor sharp nails of Victoria Creed, aka Sabertooth, has left no infection and slipped between your muscles and tendons like a hot knife through butter; but damage was dealt.

You felt her inside you. You hear her vice, feel the heat of her breath when you least expect it. The wound heals and scars over and everyone you see the four bumpy lines on your side you grow nauseous.

Logan’s in the same train of thought as you.

Even after you had been officially discharged from the medical bay, Logan follows you like a dog. She checks up on you frequently, makes sure you eat, sleep, shower, not let yourself fall into a gut wrenching depression no matter how desperately you want to just to feel the relief of your sadness.

Sabertooth had fucked you up viscerally; she wasn’t just in your side, she was in your head.

It’s driving you crazy.

Without Logan around some nights, you just can’t sleep (you try to not think about how badly you miss the safety of Logan’s arms; how warm and heavy and comforting her scent is; how she doesn’t smell like Sabertooth, how most nights when she watches you sleep you feel her hot, heavy hand rub at your scars, how one night you feel the wet broad of her tongue lick your healed wound while she thought you slept-).

One night you managed to sleep; only to see phantom visions of Creed behind your eyelids, your brain fabricating awful memories of her finger-fucking your rib cage and you woke up screaming. Logan barrelled through your door, the sound of splintering wood and a full body impaction waking you from your fretful slumber. Logan stood at the foot of your bed, eyes wide and full of wrath, claws at the ready.

You hardly see her claws outside of battle, you thought idly as your throat was too sore to calm her down.

Again, that night, you fell asleep with Logan carefully holding you, her thumb brushing up against the raised skin on your side.

You wish it was Logan that defiled you. Logan you could forgive. Logan could gut you in a blind rage and you’d absolve her of her guilt readily. Instead you got her rival, a vindictive and frightening woman. You wish Logan could carve out whatever Victoria had left behind.

—-

And why not? You think, as you stare Logan down.

You’ve laid your case out, voice strained and heart heavy, about your idea.

And Logan had never looked more soft or vulnerable than the moment she rejected your proposal.

“I can’t.” She states softly, eyes almost wet. “I can’t hurt you, let alone on purpose, sweetheart, please-“

“She-“ you interrupt, angry at Creed for doing this to you and at Logan for denying you peace, “she, is in me, Logan. Floating around in my head, in my organs, and I can feel her.” You stress.

You see Logan flinch slightly and a sickening thought crosses your mind.

“Can you smell her on me?” You ask, voice raw, “Still? Even now?”

“You’re still you.” Logan hastily relays. “You still smell mostly like you, it’s fades every day-“

And once again, you’re violated by the villain. No wonder Logan’s been forcing her clothes on you, having you shower daily; she’s been trying to get the scent of her enemy off of you for weeks-

You gasp a sob. “Logan, please!”you beg. “I can’t keep doing this! I need her out of me, I need someone I trust inside me, I can’t keep letting invade my every waking thought! All I hear is her laughing!”

Logan looks at you, desperate, a rebuttal in her mouth.

“I am this close to carving her out myself-!”

“Okay! Fine! Jesus do not do it yourself!” She pleads, throwing her hands up. She huffs a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. “We’re doing it my way, okay, safely-“

“Oh god thank you!” And you rush her into a hug, crying and clutching the taller woman for support.

Logan sighs and hugs you back, a touch tighter than her careful squeezing.

—-

There’s antiseptic and cotton balls lining your side table, along with rolls of white bandages. Logan has her claws out, letting the rubbing alcohol on them dry to disinfect them. She wasn’t kidding, despite how gruesome the request you made, she was doing it safely. Logan was prepping this like a surgery.

Eventually, she sits on the edge of your bed, and eagerly you scramble into her lap.

She looks grim, determined. “Ready? This hurt.” She warns.

You scowl. “At least you warn me.” You hiss, wiggling your hips against the woman to get closer.

Just barely, a blush flushes over Logan’s cheekbones and her eyes flash with rage before cooling back down.

Her eyes were the same color as Victoria’s, but a shade lighter in tone. It was similar, almost uncomfortably so.

Claws still out, Logan assists you in shimmying your shirt off. Once bare to her, the flat underside of her claws slide against your ribs.

Your stomach turns and your force yourself not to gasp at the intimate situation you were in.

“If you wanna squirm and scream, that’s fine.” She assures. Most of the team was gone to find Creed, you’ve been actively avoiding the task. So right now there’s hardly anyone in the teachers’ quarters beside you and your companion.

You nod in understanding, mouth dry.

Logan nods as well, face set into a neutral expression. You don’t know what would be worse for you, her enjoying this or hating it.

The tips of the claws pride you gently, before slowly pushing into you.

‘Betcha she don’t finger you like this, huh?’

Fucker, you think, your fingers digging into the shoulders of the woman doing this tremendous favour for you.

Logan stops, claws shallowly resting in you. You realize with a shaken heart she’s trying to stop.

“Deeper.” You demand.

“Sweetheart-“

You wiggle uncomfortably, the claws entering you a quarter-inch more, and Logan scowls.

“Please, she’s in deep.” You beg, almost sobbing from your high emotions.

Logan’s bottom lip trembles an iota and she moves her fist closer to you, her claws going in further.

You gasp when they reach where Victoria reached. “Stop.”

Immediately, the claws are out of your side, Logan is pressing a towel to your ribs and she places you on the bed.

“You’re okay.” She assures, voice and body tense. “You’re fine, you’ll be fine-“

You smile loonily.

You can’t hear Sabertooth anymore.

Logan frets over you, bandaging your side, mumbling encouragements and words of clumsy comfort. She pets your hair and gently slaps at your face when your eye lids slip close.

“Wake up, sweetheart, look at me.” She demands. “How do you feel?”

Feel? You feel relieved, you feel free. You feel adrenaline and exhaustion and arousal, your thighs rubbing together.

Logan twitches slightly and continues to dress your wound.

“Do I smell like you now?” You ponder aloud.

Logan stills slightly to look at you, face unreadable.

She responds, monosyllabic and husky.

“Yes.”

[poisonlove]

Jealous | w.a

Wednesday Addams wasn't exactly sure why she found herself at that party. She was accustomed to spending her nights writing, playing the cello, or simply continuing her investigation on Hyde, but despite this, she was in the main hall of Nevermore, torturing her eardrums in a way she didn't like to be tortured.

Her brown eyes roamed the room, noticing how other teenagers danced, talked, or simply tried to get as physically close to each other as possible. The smell of alcohol stung Wednesday's nostrils, and she agreed that she shouldn't be there at that moment.

It's torture being here.

Her gaze stopped at the figure of Y/N at the far end of the room, accompanied by Yoko. The girl was laughing while holding a red, overflowing glass of alcohol in one hand. Her eyes sparkled slightly as she laughed and blushed at the things the vampire girl whispered in her ear. The vampire's arm was around the shoulders of the academy's only fairy, idly playing with Y/N's T/C-colored strands.

Wednesday felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, like a firestorm that didn't want to calm down. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. Her jaw tightened, causing an odd clicking of teeth. Addams was very confused because she didn't know what was happening in her body.

She had probably been looking at Y/N for too long, as the girl had turned in her direction. A smile spread across her lips, displaying her perfectly white teeth. She waved to Wednesday, feeling uncomfortable for not receiving a wave in return. She then turned her attention back to Yoko.

"If you keep staring at her, she'll melt," someone said, and Wednesday turned her attention to the sound of the voice. Two blue eyes looked at her amusedly.

The sensation in her stomach had disappeared.

"I'm not staring," Addams said simply, annoyed by the mere accusation. Enid raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I didn't think you'd come to the party; I'm very surprised," Enid said. The werewolf girl had been drinking, and Wednesday wrinkled her nose at the smell of what seemed like vodka. Enid looked at Wednesday with glassy eyes, offering a clumsy smile.

"I'm as surprised as you are, I don't know why I came here," the black-haired girl replied, shrugging. Her eyes, almost unconsciously, sought and fell once again on Y/N's figure.

The feeling of discomfort returned.

Stupid vampire.

Enid held back a smile when she saw Wednesday's throat swallow nervously. Wednesday was clearly jealous, and she would tease her about it forever. Addams resisted the urge to go over there and rip Yoko's fangs out.

"I think I'll go back to the room; I'm not feeling well," Addams confessed, looking at the tips of her shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"What's wrong?" Enid looked at her roommate with concern.

"My stomach hurts; I think I haven't digested dinner," she said with a furrowed brow. At that moment, her nerves had relaxed, and the fire in her stomach had subsided, replaced by embarrassment.

"What did you eat?" Enid asked, rubbing her wrist to ease the pain. Addams grabbed Enid's wrist and pushed her hand away abruptly, annoyed by the contact.

"I ate the usual, Enid," Wednesday replied begrudgingly, rolling her eyes at the somewhat stupid question. The blonde rubbed her wrist, trying to alleviate the pain.

The alcohol in her veins allowed Enid to challenge Wednesday. Suddenly, she had an idea, a thought that, if she wasn't careful, could kill her. Tonight, she felt strangely brave.

"Let me try something," Enid grabbed Wednesday's shoulders.

At that moment, Wednesday was confused and felt like pulling Enid's hair due to the blonde's gesture. Her eyes were fixed on Y/N, a sensation of spiders weaving a web reigning in her stomach, which was suddenly replaced by the fire when she saw Yoko's hand around Y/N's waist.

"Do you feel that your stomach bothers you?" Enid asked absentmindedly.

"Yes, it feels like it's burning..." she whispered softly. Enid Sinclair stood in front of her, blocking her view of the fairy.

"How about now?" She smiled.

"Now I feel better... definitely," Wednesday opened her eyes in confusion at the sudden change of emotions. A knot stuck in her throat when T/C-colored eyes met hers.

Her legs wobbled.

"Perfect. What you're feeling is called jealousy," Enid said sweetly, satisfied with having solved her best friend's dilemma. Wednesday felt like the world was crashing down on her. She couldn't be jealous; she didn't want to be like her parents, she didn't want to fall in love. She despised anything that came close to this feeling, and she felt nauseous at the thought of her parents' interaction.

"How can it be avoided?" Wednesday asked in panic. For the first time in her life, she felt fear. She was afraid of something that was new to her and that she couldn't handle. She wanted to bury it inside her, hide it in the remotest part of herself.

"You can't control it," Enid exclaimed, sighing heavily when she saw Ajax in the distance, her wonderful boyfriend. Ajax greeted her and invited her over.

Wednesday Addams looked at Y/N again, realizing that Enid was right. Her heart was pounding, she had never felt this way in her life, and she was beginning to feel the famous obsession that her father had told her she would feel when she fell in love. Something inside her had bloomed, and she knew it would be impossible to hide it.

If you can't beat the enemy, ally with them, and Wednesday wanted to do just that with Love.

"She will be mine, Cara Mia," Wednesday whispered, smiling slightly, her eyes darkening further due to the darkness growing within her. The Italian nickname that she never thought she'd remember or say in her life came out of her lips naturally, and it felt damn good to say it.

She would be mine, and nothing and no one could separate us, even if she had to kill her and erase her from the face of the earth.

Now that Wednesday had admitted what she felt, she no longer wanted to deny it; she simply wanted to go there and claim what was hers, even if it meant getting her hands dirty with blood to get it.

[xxacademy]

BLOODIED HANDS OF A LOVER'S MISFORTUNE —THRONE OF HIS OWN PART II

Leon Kennedy x Agent!Reader (she/her)

-> READ PART ONE

Summary: Blood, wine, fangs, touch-- his touch. Leon Kennedy made you his princess. He put you in pretty dresses, and put is mark on every part of you. But, it's time to face the reality of your situation. You are not Leon's princess, you are his back up. Now you're forced to do your job, and come face to face with the chaos of the vampire court.

Word Count: 2.5k

Content warnings: blood/gore, reader gets drugged and restrained, weapons, vampires, typical violence and themes associated with resident evil, i shamefully reference one of Leon Kennedy's cringiest one-liner's.

a/n: i had so much fun writing this!! action & horror elements are the best. i think i could write descriptions about blood and wounds forever... it's so strangely fun (?) anwaysss im playing re4r again and i cannot get leon's kicks outta my brain, lol. i hope you enjoy, and as always thank you for your patience. i am a full-time student and i have a full-time job, so writing can take me foreverrrrr.

Leon sits among the vampiric overlords while you sit alone, drinking a cup of tea, wearing yet another tightly corseted Victorian monstrosity.

The servants were undoubtedly kind to offer you clean clothes and breakfast, but that didn't make you want to leave any less. The uneasiness lingers dense in your stomach.

Last night was... Indulgent, to say the least. But the welcome has been overstayed, and you're antsy to leave the vampire's den. Hopefully, Leon will be quick to end their little conclave.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You awoke suddenly to a loud clank beside you. To your groggy surprise, your tea cup had fallen and shattered at your feet.

The idle warmth of the fireplace and the cozy living room must have lulled you to sleep. Despite your mind being deep in a heavy fog, you found the strength to look around the room and confirm that you were still, in fact, alone.

You meandered to the heavily draped window and peeked outside. You prepared yourself to be blinded by searing bright snow, but... Oh, dear god.

The sun was setting. You rubbed your eyes in harrowed disbelief. The sun was fucking setting.

How could it be? It was only just morning. You couldn't have possibly slept the entire day.

Your hands were trembling mess as you squatted down to analyze the shattered tea cup. You grabbed a piece of jagged porcelain and brought it to your nose, breathing deeply.

You caught an unmistakably bitter note buried underneath aromatic peppermint. A sedative herb most definitely was used to lace the tea. You felt ashamed; how could you be so naïve, falling for such a novice trick?

But, there was no time to dwell. You scoured the room for a weapon. The only object that stood out to you was a particularly pointy piece of metal off an ornate candelabra. You ripped out the half-melted candles and bent the metal into a makeshift weapon, poking it into your skin to test its sharpness.

This should work, and if it doesn't? Well, It will, you told yourself.

Jaunty candlestick weapon in hand, you headed for the door, which was, unsurprisingly, locked. You analyzed the clunky metalwork and quickly determined it was an old-fashioned skeleton lock. You pulled several pins from your hair, fashioned them into impromptu Allen wrenches, and began picking the lock.

After several attempts and numerous broken pins, you finally jimmied the door open.

You set out into the gothic night-veiled estate, creeping through the labyrinth of hallways. Your heeled shoes and sweeping gown made stealth damn near impossible, but you had no choice but to make it work.

You followed the networking corridors aimlessly, pressing your ear to closed doors in the hope of finding Leon.

You heard pattering footsteps coming towards you, and in a desperate attempt to hide, you angled yourself behind a column of an archway. But as the person passed, a white-gowned servant, she stopped dead in her tracks and turned on her heels to face you.

Glowing red eyes met yours, and a mindless, other-worldly voice flowed from her: "You made a very grave mistake, chérie." The servant lunged at you, unarmed, fangs bared.

The candlestick you weld plummeted to the ground, and you grabbed the servant by the wrists and held her firm, straining to keep her away as she thrashed with all her might.

You threw her down by twisting her arm to the ground and holding her in place by firmly pressing your heel into her sternum. She cried a blood-curdling howl in pain, thrashing under your foot.

"Where is he? Where is Leon?" You demanded, rage filling your wavering voice.

The servant snickered, flashing small, jagged fangs.

"Tell me!" You demanded for the last time.

She was hysterically laughing now-- It was useless to attempt to communicate with a mindless thrall.

You reached for the candlestick and quickly bent over the thrashing servant and slit her throat with the sharp metal edge.

Hot blood spilled down her virgin-white dress, but her glowing red eyes stayed fully conscious. "You're a fool," she mocked, her fingers laced around your wrist.

You sunk your heel back into her sternum, this time with much more force, causing her head to smack against the floor. She hissed in pain. Blood was still pouring from her neck as you forced her hand off of yours. You repositioned the candlestick in your hand, aiming it for her heart.

You held her still by wrapping your hand tightly around her neck and drove the weapon through her chest. Her head lulled to the side limply, and her glowing eyes dulled- she was dead, finally.

You took a moment to catch your breath, staring at the woman's lifeless body. You couldn't recall a single vampiric servant from the previous night, so why now?

As you began to regain your composure, you looked down at yourself, pretty dress all covered in blood. It was an honest reflection of how terrible the last twenty-four hours have gone.

Regardless, you grabbed your blood-drenched candlestick and began creeping through the hallways once more. No one else seemed to be coming for you now. You were utterly alone as you tip-toed through the darkened estate. Utterly alone-- besides the gut-wrenching feeling that you were being watched.

The oil-painted portraits that decorated the looming walls felt like they saw everything. They saw you massacre that servant, they saw you lie to their rulers, they saw you drunkenly court your colleague. Maybe it was your own internalization showing, but you couldn't shake the feeling.

But you felt relief when you spotted a warm candlelit gleam emanating from the crack of a closed door. It had been the first trace of light you'd seen in these gloomy halls.

As you approached the door, you heard overlapping voices talking and laughing. It sounded like a blend of English and French was being spoken, adding to the dissonance.

You ever so gently pressed your ear to the door, attempting to make out what was happening. You couldn't understand a lick of the French being spoken. But you overheard something in English: "When are you going to get the girl?" a mysterious voice asked.

Another more familiar voice replied. “Quand nous en aurons fini avec lui.”

The King.

They must have Leon here. Your stomach dropped.

What could they possibly be doing to him? And the girl, that has to be me, right?

You don't know how it happened or how your cover could have been blown. What if they killed Leon?

There's no way you'd be able to defeat them on your own. Your mind traces all the rational options to go about this, but you conclude there is none. There is only one way.

You draw a quivering breath and open the mysterious door.

To your surprise, you revealed a grand banquet hall swarmed with almost the same lineup from last night's soirée.

The creak of the door caused all of their necks to turn to you instantly. The first thing you noticed was a sea of glowing crimson eyes. All the Lords have been turned now.

The King's stark pale skin and deep blood-red eyes burrowed through your soul. The pointed corners of his mouth raised in an impish smile. At the King's side was Leon, his arms bound and his head hung limp.

He had been draped and displayed at the hands of the merciless creatures that stalked this land. A centerpiece to their dastardly festivities.

"The bunny makes its way to the wolf's den. It's almost commendable." The King squinted, his head reaching forward in his throne to get a better look at you. "It looks like you even found someone in my estate to prey on. How scary."

"How did you find out?" You kept your words steady and firm.

The King laughed, "Ah, this is a good story."

"Go on," you said, taking a step closer.

The King shifted in his chair and took a sip of what was presumably blood from a crystal glass. "I had one of my men doing perimeter control on the south end. He made it all the way to the road, where he saw a car a few meters away-- and chérie, cars do not drive on that road."

Your heart sunk.

"He found a car and stopped it. I could tell you who he found, but I think you might already know. But in case you need a refresher, it was a United States agent with a very detailed file about you and Mr. Kennedy in his car."

You tried to close the gap between you and the King, but two guards restrained you by your arms after throwing your makeshift weapon to the ground.

"You bastard! You bloody bastard! What did you do to him? And what have you done to Leon!?"

"You're going to love this ma chérie. Leon is on the path to grand ascension— he'll become one of us soon. As for the agent that brought you here, he was at lunch the following day. Not exactly my taste, as I prefer the sweet blood of a woman, but he sufficed."

The room erupted in laughter, and long fangs taunted you everywhere you looked. Even the men who held your arms laughed at you.

You tried to break free of their grip, but they outmatched you. The men lifted you by your arms and dropped you before the King's throne. They pushed you down by your shoulders so that your knees crashed to the ground.

You hoped Leon would look up or say something. But he just rested on his knees, head down, in unwavering silence.

Your voice cracked, "And what about me?"

The King clicked his tongue, scanning your blood-soaked figure with heavy lids and a cocky glint in his eye. "You're simply too... Beautiful to just let go."

You rolled your eyes, "Give me a break! You think I'll just go along with you, easy as that?"

His lips formed into a cruel smirk, "I do."

You noticed earlier that the men who restrain you have swords attached to their hips, which could quickly turn the tide of this unlucky evening. The answer is, how?

"Just you wait, little dear." The King arose from his seat and picked up Leon by the collar of his shirt.

The King was tall; he easily towered over everyone in the room. His raven black hair flowed long down his back, extenuating his gaunt appearance.

It appeared that Leon had also been drugged. His body was limp, and he barely resisted as the King pushed him up and threw him into the arms of guards.

The King cleared his throat, demanding the room's attention to himself. "Good evening, everyone. You all know Leon here; He was incredibly loyal and fearlessly dedicated to our cause. But it's recently come to light that he and his darling little girlfriend are federal agents for the United States military."

The crowd murmured their feelings in disgust. "I know, this is very disheartening. But, I have a fitting punishment for the traitors."

The King dragged on about how he planned on turning you both into vampiric slaves, doomed to a life of servitude. But you couldn't care less. He clearly underestimated you.

You notice Leon begin to come to consciousness. It started with his hands forming into fists and then him rolling his neck from side to side.

He lifted his head, sunken blue eyes meeting yours. You were kneeling on the ground, dress blood-soaked and arms forcefully restrained by guards, all before him, to save him.

Leon's eyes darted to the swords the men beside you adorned, and then they darted back to you. He raised an eyebrow as if asking if you saw what he saw.

Yes— you mouthed the words, and Leon nodded.

"Ahh, you're awake." The King forcefully grabbed Leon's neck, digging his talon-like nails into his skin. "Your time has come, Kennedy."

Leon remained silent in the wake of the King's cruelness.

The King yelled for more guards, and they arrived holding a small box upon a velvet pillow. The King opened the box, taking a sizeable, needled syringe between his fingers.

That's how they're doing it, and Umbrella parasite, of course, You thought to yourself.

The guards holding your arms tightened their grip as the King approached Leon, flicking the serum vial menacingly.

"Let the coronation commence!" The King exclaimed to exuberant cheers.

In a quiet voice, he said to Leon only, "I wasn't planning on the girl being here, but how sweet is it that your lover gets to witness your rebirth?"

Leon scoffed, staring at the King directly, sizing up his foe. "We'll see about that."

The King was unphased as he closed the gap, reaching the needle closer and closer to Leon's neck, and when he was in range, Leon charged his leg and landed a devastating kick to the King's chest.

He went flying back and fell to the ground with wind-knocking ferocity. The syringe skidded across the marble floor, far from the King's grasp.

Before anyone could react, Leon freed himself from the guard's grip, flipping one of them over his shoulder and slamming him to the ground. He kicked in the other guard's kneecap, sending him down instantly. Leon stole both swords from either injured guard and pointed them at the King.

Sweat dripped from Leon's brow, and his skin looked washed out and pale. But he stood tall in the wake of the tyrannical leader. The people around began to stir. Some remained frozen in shock, and some readied themselves for a fight.

This was about to get very ugly, and you needed to break free. With your knees pushed into the ground, it was difficult to maneuver against the guard's strength.

You hastily attempted to drive your elbow into the stomach of one of the guards. He deflected it. But you tried again, aiming for his knee. You landed it this time.

"You bitch," the guard grunted as he stumbled back. The other one grabbed you by your arms, lifting you to your feet and placing you into a headlock.

Leon reacted swiftly by throwing one of his swords in your direction. The guard flinched as the sword propelled through the air, seemingly aimed right at his head.

But, you caught the sword by its hilt and wasted no time driving the blade through the belly of the guard who restrained you. The other guard, who was still reeling from his punched-in knee, was next. It was light work for you as you twisted the blade through his chest.

Leon called for you, requesting your backup as he fought off the vampire spawns. They had Leon surrounded, protecting their King like devoted honey bees.

You axed through the crowd, driving your long sword through the hearts of fresh vamplings. Leon held his own impeccably well. He pushed away hungry fangs with ease, kicking and slicing the hoard.

You joined Leon and pressed your back against his as you fought against the opponents from behind.

Through ribbons of blood, chaos, and murder, you gritted through your teeth, "What's the plan?"

"Kill the King and run," Leon grunted.

"Where to?"

"The cabin."

"You got it; I'll follow your lead." You couldn't hide the smirk that formed across your lips. It felt good to finally be reunited and dishing out justice.

Leon chuckled exasperatedly, "Just stay alive, sweetheart, and we'll all be singing kumbaya later."

part three coming soon xx

!! tag list -> @g4ys0n @elijahsprincess

[waltat04-kevinknight]

Just a sneak peek at a Jaune x Kali fic I'm working on

It was a somber day in Menagerie, as the previous white fang leader and loving husband was found dead with two sword stabs through his head. The entire nation was saddened and mourning the death of Ghira Belladonna. His now Widowed wife had locked herself away in her now empty estate and spent her days crying, that was until she heard a knock at the door. Getting up and walking to the door, she opened it and saw her daughter, and what she would assume was her friend.

“Oh hello Blake sweetheart and this is?” Kali asked as Blake looked at Jaune.

“Mom, this is Jaune, my friend from Beacon.” Blake replied.

“Hello Ms.Belladonna it's nice to meet you” Jaune says with a soft smile.

“Greetings Jaune, Blake I'm assuming you're here for your father's death..?” Kali asked, causing Blake to nod.

“I'm truly sorry to both of you for your loss” Jaune said, placing his hand on his chest.

“Thank you Jaune, I appreciate you coming along with me” Blake says walking inside her house leading Jaune in as well.

Kali led the two into the living room and sat down on the couch, while Blake and Jaune sat on the other couch.

“They still haven't found the murderer of Ghira all they know is that he was stabbed twice by a thin blade.” Kali says with a heavy sigh.

“What about Adam?” Blake asked.

“No he himself came forth and admitted that while he didn't agree with how Ghira ran things when he was in charge, he would never take Ghira's life.” Kali explains causing Blake to sigh and nod.

“Jaune, can you stay with my mom while I track down my father's killer?” Blake asked.

“Yeah of course, you focus on finding who took your dad's life” Jaune says as Blake hugs him.

The hug was short as Blake walked out of the estate and closed the door, leaving Jaune and Kali by themselves.

“I appreciate you staying with me Jaune.” Kali says, wiping a tear away.

“It's no problem Mrs.Belladonna, it's the least I could do” Jaune says, picking up a box of tissues and handing it to Kali, who would take a tissue and wipe her tears.

She smiles and throws the tissue in the trash can and looks back at Jaune, it takes a few seconds before she speaks again.

“Blake told me about how you lost someone during the Fall, are you doing alright?” Kali asked Jaune who was surprised by the question.

“I'm doing my best, it's all we can do. I'm not gonna say I'm over it but I have to move on someday.” Jaune says smiling.

Kali smiles back at him as she stands up and walks over to Jaune.

“I'll show you to the guest room.” Kali says walking to the hall, which Jaune follows her.

Once at the door Kali opens the door and Jaune walks in, setting his bag on the table. He looked around the room smiling and then turned to Kali. “Thank you Ms. Belladonna” Jaune says to her with a smile.

“Of course but please call me Kali” She says leaving the room and going to hers and once he was alone he laid down on the bed and fell asleep.

_________

A few days have passed Jaune helped comfort Kali with the passing of her husband and the two grew a small friendly bond, with Jaune cleaning up the estate and even cooking for Kali and himself. Jaune hummed as he walked past Kali's room and noticed the door was open and knocked on the door, which after a few seconds he was met by Kali. Wearing a nightgown.

“Oh hello Jaune what can I do for you?” Kali asked him with a soft smile.

“Sorry I saw your door open so I wanted to make sure everything was alright” Jaune says with a smile on his face.

“You're sweet” Kali says leaning against her door while staring into his eyes.

“By the way, Blake called saying she's made some headway into finding your husband's killer” Jaune says resulting in a soft smile from Kali.

“That's good” She says looking up at Jaune before looking away.

“No matter what I do Jaune, I can't stop thinking about Ghira…I miss him, I know I need to move on but-” Kali says before she stops feeling Jaune put a hand on her shoulder.

“No no I get it, it's going to be hard but I'll be here no matter what” Jaune says as Kali hugs Jaune tightly.

Jaune wrapped his arms around Kali as the two shared a tender deep hug for a few moments before they broke the hug off looking at each other.

“Jaune, would you mind staying in my room tonight? I could use the company” Kali asked him knowing he probably would say no and she wouldn't blame him if he did.

“Sure I-I don't mind” He said, which took Kali by surprise before she took hold of his hand and led him inside and closed the room door behind him.

Once inside the room he noticed how massive the bed was, then again Jaune remembered Blake told him how big and bulky her father was so his surprise quickly went away. Kali let go of his hand and sat on the bed and untied her robe letting Jaune see her lingerie nightgown making him blush and look away out of respect.

“Jaune, you don't have to look away” She said softly, “Please come and help me..~” She begged him.

“But you're Blake's mom I can't do that with you” Jaune says as Kali grabs his hand and pulls him on top of her.

“You promised you'd help me and what does your family never do?” Kali says, causing Jaune's eyes to widen.

“Never go back on a promise” He says making Kali smile.

“Besides, Jaune you've been nothing but help this past week…and I've couldn't take my eyes off you. I don't know why but you remind me of my husband in so many ways…” Kali says, placing her hands on his cheeks before pulling him in for a deep tender kiss.

Jaune didn't know how to respond until he found himself lost in the kiss as he moves his hands onto Kali's hips and turns causing Kali to down be on top of him as the two continue the tender kiss, while Jaune swirls his tongue around Kali's tongue starting to French kiss her. Kali was enjoying this, she didn't feel lonely anymore, she had someone here with her now and knew how to kiss so well. Kali would break the kiss and get off of Jaune still blushing as she bends over and takes off her lace lingerie panties revealing her slightly wet pussy to Jaune.

“C-Could you eat me out p-please” Kali asked shyly as Jaune stood up and walked over to Kali and put his hand on her kisses her neck while fondling her massive ass.

“Of course Kali” Jaune says guiding Kali back to the bed, laying her down and getting between her legs as he started to lick her milf pussy.

Once she felt his tongue lick her entrance she let out a breath while Jaune gripped her thighs and began to kiss, lick, and suck on Kali's pussy while Kali moaned loudly. He then mainly stuck to sucking on her clit as he shoved his tongue into her pussy making her squirm as she felt Jaune eat her pussy.

“F-Fuck I'm gonnn-!” She started moaning before she squirted over Jaune's mouth.

Jaune moves his lips away from her pussy and stands back up, a hard on in his pants in full view as he wipes his lips.

“T-Thank you for that J-Jaune” She says looking at him before her eyes notice his bulge in his pants.

She sat up and unzipped his pants and pulled down along with his boxers allowing his dick to fling out.

‘Oh God's his dick… it rivals the size and girth of Ghira's… and its scent’ she thought, smelling it as she could get enough.

She didn't wait as she shoved his dick into her mouth and began sucking like a rabbit in heat while she used one hand to jerk Jaune off while she gave him one wild blowjob. Jaune on the other hand bit his lip while watching Kali suck him off, the view of her big milkers bouncing only made him more horny for the Widowed milf. With her other hand she grabbed Jaune's hand and put it on her head, implying he wanted him to guide her, own her.

He put his other hand on her head and began thrusting, causing Kali to gag for a second before she adjusted to the speed Jaune was going at.

‘God's he's even rougher than Ghira was, he is perfect~!’ She thought to herself as she put her hands behind her head as Jaune kept thrusting using her mouth.

Jaune kept thrusting before he held her head against his lower area and cums in her throat and pulls his cock out of her mouth. Kali closes her mouth and swallows his cum and opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out seductively before closing her mouth again.

“Kali I want you to ride my cock and slam that fat ass on it until you can't no more” Jaune says sitting next to her well laying down next to her.

Kali felt herself get hotter from how he ordered her as she got on him immediately and lined his cock with her pussy and slid down on her as she shook her head while moaning loudly before slamming already down on his cock. She felt Jaune grab her head and pull her down into a deep French kiss as she started bouncing her massive ass on his dick just like he asked. She breaks the kiss as their tongues were inches apart as she stared into his eyes with a mix of lust and love while still slamming her pussy down on his dick, she could feel his dick stretching her more just making her bounce faster.

“F-Fuck fuck fuck fuck~!” Kali moaned as she kept riding Jaune's dick while Jaune moved his hands onto her hips making her bounce even more.

“Such an eager woman you are Kali” Jaune says as Kali had imaginary hearts in her eyes as she bounced even harder.

“Y-Yes I am~! Please fill. Me. up~!” She moans as she slammed down once more as Jaune moved his hands from her hips and back to her head and pulled her in for a kiss as he cums in her pussy, filling her womb up.

She slowly slides off his dick and gets off the bed and looks at Jaune's cum covered cock and bites her lip as she watches Jaune stand up and put his hands on her hips and kisses her, making him melt in his touch. She turns around and bends over placing her hands on the wall as she shakes her ass.

“Show me more fun… Daddy~” She said seductively as within a few seconds Jaune was behind her and shoved his dick back into her pussy, gripped her hips and began thrusting quickly and roughly.

Kali couldn't help but moan as Jaune used her pussy, and did she enjoy how rough he was being with her. She didn't care for soft sex she wanted it hard and rough, all boxes Jaune were checking.

“You're so wet, it makes it easier for me to rail this pussy made by the gods!” He moaned as he delivered a harsh smack to one of Kali's ass cheeks making it jiggle and Kali moan louder.

“Yes Oh God's fuck keep going~!” Kali moaned and Jaune did just that and kept thrusting like there was no tomorrow.

Jaune smacked her juicy ass once more, making her moan even louder as she looked back at him with a lustful seductive stare in his eyes. He kept thrusting and her stare only made him go rougher with her and after a few more moments he slammed against her cervix and cummed, filling her womb once again. He pulled out and back up falling onto the bed as Kali walked over to him and laid beside him and pecked his cheek and cuddled up next to him.

[juanarc-thethird]

Some Faunus have a good sense of smell.

Ilia and Eve are in the library trying to kill time before their next mission.

Ilia: So Eve, what are you reading?

Eve: *Ignores her while reading her book*

Ilia: O-OK then... I'll be on the other side if you need me.

Eve: *Keeps reading*

Ilia: *Sighs* Why did they pair me with her?

Eve: *Stands up* *Sniff* Sniff*

Ilia: Eve? Are you ok?

Eve: I-Is that Jaune I smell? *Sniff* *Sniff*

Ilia: We are in a highly secured White Fang secret base, I don't think he is here.

Eve: Mmm yes~ I smell it! JAUNE'S SMELL!! I smell Jaune! W-What is he doing here?!?!

Ilia: Again, I don't think is him.

Eve: Omygosh! What am I gonna do?!?! JAUNE IS HERE!!!! I'M FREAKING OUT SO MUCH!!!!

Ilia: Don't you listen to me?! He is not here!! CALM DOWN!!

Eve: Yes Eve, calm down... calm down and take a nice, deep breathe... *Sniff* *Sniff*

Ilia: Stop that!!

Eve: It smells so good!~💕 I love Jaune's smell so much!! It makes me fell so amazing. I'm getting tingles all over from that delicious smell! It's driving me CRAZY!!!

Ilia: Fuck it, I'm not dealing with this

Eve: Oh Jaune~💕 *Big Sniff* Onee-chan is coming for you.

Ilia: Good luck.

At that moment Que runs out of the library. Seconds later a commotion is heard in the distance.

Eve: I found you!!💕

Jaune: *Panic* What the fuck?!!

Ilia: Wait, what?! He was really here?!!

Eve: Come to Onee-chan and let her cover you with kisses.

Jaune: Get away from me you crazy bitch!

[devilfic]

part five of this series dedicated to @aspenaspid​ because they asked so, so nicely

cw: 18+ mdni, implied masturbation (m), non-sexual bondage... technically. it definitely didn’t start that way, miguel’s definitely got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut.

miguel cannot look you in the eyes right now.

you’re suspended above the crime scene in a web stronger than your own, and it’s hard to see you the same after what he’d done. it should’ve drained him, made him immune, or at least exhausted his desire for you a bit. and you’re none the wiser, of course, and he’s the only bearer of shame, but he’s watching you wriggle and writhe and he’s struggling not to turn back around and portal himself out of there before he made a mess of his suit again.

jessica had since subdued her anomaly, the one you both had come for, and found miguel standing at the far back of the scene with his mouth set in a hard line, “you might wanna take a sample of that web before we head back. villain’s webbing is double the strength of anything I’ve seen. if you can reproduce it, could be useful.”

it would be useful, yes. the synthetic webbers in the spider-society could definitely benefit. his own webs had their perks, but he imagines what he could do if he had access to something this strong. they’re strong enough to hold you captive, thin enough to look translucent. the white strings knot around your ankles, your wrists and chest, pressing deep into your flesh even as you tug and tug and tug. you keep tugging, growing winded with a fine sheen of sweat across your brow, groaning and whining for someone to just cut you out, that you’d do anything for someone to just run their talon down the axis of your chest and cut you free, catching on your suit in the process and ripping a hole for him to just tear-

you groan even louder this time, “can someone get me out, please?”

jessica laughs, pats miguel’s shoulder, “think I’ll leave this one to you.”

miguel whips his head to her, “me? you’re the one that got them in this mess. you cut ‘em out.”

but she’s already on her way, fashioning a portal out of thin air, “they’re your assistant.” and she falls through before miguel has the chance to argue.

there’s a lot less people around now. this universe’s spider had been tied up on the brooklyn bridge and someone was heading out to get them down, so it was just you and miguel and a spattering of police assessing the damage to the city. you blow a stray piece of hair out of your face and whine, “miguel.”

he swallows. maybe cutting you out sooner than later would be for the best.

you’re suspended horizontally, laid back in the bed of webs spread eagle. he uses his own webs to swing up and onto the surface, careful to keep from getting himself caught, and crawls his way over to you on all fours. he reaches your ankles first and extends a talon to snip away the webbing. it falls apart with a little effort.

as soon as your legs are free, you draw your knees to your chest and sigh and miguel has to look away before he gets any ideas. he crawls toward your wrist next, but hesitates. you’re looking up at him with such doe eyes that he feels his hand tremble a bit, “are you hurt?”

you glance away, suddenly a little irritated, “no. I barely got in on the action before that asshole webbed me up like this. he was gonna eat me.”

miguel raises an eyebrow, “eat you?”

“you should’ve seen the guy. he was huge, had fangs just like yours and six more legs.”

miguel frowns. a giant mutated spider appears in his mind, hovering over you with drooling fangs positioned over your throat, prepared to devour you whole. he was sure he didn’t look much different with a villain in his grasp. “just like mine?”

you turn back to him, eyes searching his own. it seems you both are remembering when his teeth sunk into your arm days ago. “not exactly... one fang was the size of my head,” something that big would’ve killed you with one drop of venom, “I tried picturing you as him to sweeten my imminent death, but he wasn’t nearly as good-looking.”

a comment like that would’ve usually had him cutting a hole in the web just to watch you fall to your demise, but hovering over your body (your trapped body, with nowhere to go, and a tantalizing view of your throat on display) had him thinking... other things.

he crouches on a single line of web, hunching his body over you until he blots out the light of the city above you, until his shadow overtakes you and your eyes widen. he places one hand by your head. his lips part slowly, naturally, revealing the very tips of his fangs to you. he watches your breath quicken and your throat bob with a hard swallow. if he’d had 24 hours to get over the images of you he’d conjured up to get him off, you both would’ve been back in nueva york by now.

but it’s been about an hour since he’d spilled into his hand over you for the fourth (or fifth? or sixth?) time, and none of it compared to seeing you like this.

“oh, really?” his voice rasps low.

for once, for once, he’s caught you off guard.

it was no doubt he was bigger than you. and when he wanted, he could be frightening. but even when he tried—and oh, he tried in the beginning, hoped it’d scare you away—you never wavered. it irritated him then. he’d wanted to make you shake.

and now you’re looking up at him and it’s not quite fear, but it stings like an electric current between you. you’re not quick to quip like usual. he can hear the tremor in your breathing. there are police sirens abound but it might as well be completely silent the way you zero in on him.

he’s committing it all to memory in the event his shame can’t keep his hand from finding its way back into his pants later.

you fill your chest with air and arch your back, a movement that makes his brain short-circuit, just to release your sweet breath and fall back into the webs again, “if I didn’t know any better,” you begin, eyes trailing up from his talons curling around the web by your face to his eyes, “I’d say you were trying to get me excited, mr. o’hara.”

his eyes narrow into slits, “what happened to ‘sir’?”

your face breaks out into a smile so triumphant that he realizes you’d done that on purpose, had tried out that “sir” to see if he liked it, not just to tease him. and now you had him hovering over you with his teeth bared like he had no sense. you were insufferably smug. he could feel how pleased you were, the way your body eased into the webs and each and every twist of your body traveled back to his fingers, overwhelming his senses. you’d caught him in a web of your own.

“if I call you sir, will you let me go?”

miguel doesn’t see it but he hears the sound of you stretching your fingers, making no attempts to free yourself anymore. he feels one of your knees brush his hip and wonders if the web will stay intact if he portals the both of you out like this. he needs it. to research, of course.

“I could just leave you here, let them handle you.” he nods to the people down below, forcing himself not to react.

“it would be just like you to leave right before it gets good.”

“that implies ‘it’ was ever gonna happen.”

your eyes flash with something. miguel watches your forehead wrinkle, then smooth over once more, “you’re right. maybe I should take web-slinger up on his offer when we get back, then.”

web-slinger... hit on you?

miguel’s fist clenches and before he realizes it, the webs underneath his hand snap and his arm falls through, throwing him off balance and dropping his full weight on top of you. he tries to gather his bearings but suddenly something is touching his face—you, your hand that had broken free when he’d closed his talons into a fist at the thought of patrick o’hara (oh, you’d definitely done that on purpose) and you—and holding it an inch apart from your own. he waits with bated breath, all at once at your mercy.

you tuck a stray hair behind his ear and he all but full-body shudders, “don’t worry. you’re the only o’hara for me.”

part six

[justporo]

Changing Trajectories (Stars that collide)

A while back I wrote this drabble about ascended Astarion suddenly interrupting one of Tav's jobs as a thief - almost ten years after they've parted ways. The title was How to Catch a Mouse

I've come back to it and decided to turn it into a longer story. So, we'll be right back at the moment where the first (very short) part left off: Astarion with his hands on Tav, interrupting her from stealing her target object. Turns out the vampire lord didn't happen upon Tav on accident this fateful night.

Song: Devil May Cry (Apashe & Sofiane Pamart)

Pairing: Ascended Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, angst Note: This will not be like the usual fluff I write. In fact it will probably not be fluffy at all

~~~

You were pulled back by the hands firmly gripping onto your waist. You couldn’t help but let out a little shriek as you collided with the upper body of the person standing behind you. His presence was overwhelming now.

You could take in his scent now: he still smelled of bergamot and rosemary and the scent immediately unveiled memories you had desperately tried to forget, to hide in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind, to strangle so they wouldn’t haunt you anymore. But images flashed through your mind: of the close moments before, ten years ago, when you had thought you had found your soulmate.

Hands were still gripping hard on your waistline, holding you in place, pressing you against a firm body.

“Hello, my darling Tav”, you heard the voice purr again and felt his breath as it was leaning over your neck. No lips were touching your delicate skin, but you could almost feel the grin that bared fangs right above your quickening pulse.

“Astarion”, you whispered spiritlessly because it was the only thing you could muster. You knew you should feel terrified that you had fallen – quite literally – into the hands of one of the most dangerous creatures of the Sword Coast if not Faerûn. But all you could feel at the very moment was deep desperation and overwhelming sadness as more memories flooded you from a different time.

“Is this the way you’d like to greet me after all this time, love?”, Astarion said with a tinge of anger when there was nothing else coming from you. His hands spun you around, made you face him. His hands grabbed your elbows now, holding you in place.

Again, you couldn’t help but gasp. He was as strikingly handsome as you remembered, even more so! Ten year old memories couldn’t do justice to the vampire lord’s glorious beauty: his chin lifted arrogantly, every white curl perfectly in place, ruby eyes striking, piercing, boring into your soul and soft lips perpetually curled into the smirk that once had almost made you give everything to him.

And suddenly you felt rage overcome you, drowning out all other emotions you had felt before.

The element of surprise on your side you pushed him away, startling him. It was only a split second, but it was enough for you to step out of his reach.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”, you screamed at him and took more steps away from him – until you collided with the small stone pillar behind you. The amulet on it fell to the ground with a clattering sound. But you couldn’t care less in this very moment.

Astarion’s face had become a mask of rage, his eyes almost blazing with it. “You dare speak in that tone with me?”, he screamed back. Power rang in his voice and struck primal fear into you immediately.

You immediately scurried around the small stone column at your back and slowly took more steps backwards, trying to get away from him.

You realised two things: firstly, that it was very likely no one in their right mind should speak with this mighty monster in this tone because secondly, he could absolutely kill you and splatter you all over the ground if he wanted to. It probably wouldn’t even cost him that much of an effort. And he’d probably walk out of here with not a hair out of place.

You gulped as fear filled you as a delayed reaction to Astarion’s appearance.

The vampire meanwhile closed his eyes and took a deep breath in as he obviously tried to gain back his composure. He rolled his head and shoulders as an arrogant – and very fake – smile entered his face and he opened his eyes again to watch you again.

You stopped wandering back – there was no use to it anyway, Astarion was blocking the only way out of the room.

“I do apologise, it’s been a while since someone has been foolish enough to cross me.” His tone was civilised, polite even. His gestures that of a bored noble merely having a dull conversation. But the way the smile grew into a wicked grin baring his fangs was still a bit too predatory for his masquerade.

And still your heart couldn’t help but flutter again as he looked at you again – this time again not out of fear. He angled his head and looked you up and down.

“You look incredibly beautiful, my darling, even more so than I remember.”

Unbelievably enough, he sounded genuine. His gaze lingered on you, seemingly far away for a moment. It seemed you weren’t the only one taken aback by a sudden flood of memories.

“So do you”, you whispered before you could think better of it. His gaze snapped back to yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips now. He looked a lot less intimidating now and much more like you had kept him in your memories.

Back then, you had always told him how beautiful he was. At every given opportunity. And each time he had smiled at you and given you a loving kiss.

Your chest started to ache as you lived through one of those memories.

“What are you doing here?”, you asked him before the pain of it could close up your throat.

“Ah, I could ask you just the same, couldn’t I?” He inclined his head a little and his smile grew making it even easier to mistake him for what he really was. He watched you carefully, noting how you had taken several steps away from him, but he didn’t move closer again. “But then again, I know very well what you are doing here, seeing as I was the one who had the cheese laid out for you”, the vampire explained and pursed his lips. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Your jaw dropped: “You are the client behind this contract?” Obviously, you internally rolled your eyes at yourself. Why else would he have put up a show with the whole cat-mouse-thing. But you had been too starstruck in the beginning to make sense of it all.

That you hadn’t known the true identity of your client wasn’t that much of a surprise though. You only had had contact via messengers that had kept the identity of your customer hidden – but that was very usual in your line of work.

Astarion’s eyes started to sparkle even more as he watched the gears in your head turn and while his smirk grew, he started to saunter towards you again. He kept silent as he approached you once more as you kept feeling more and more alarmed.

This wasn’t good. In fact, it was terrible. This meant he hadn’t just happened upon you. He had specifically sought you out.

“Why?”, you simply asked as the vampire lord strode closer to you with the languid elegance of a cat.

He threw out his arms in a dramatic pose: “Why indeed? Because I wanted an artifact stolen, obviously.” One of his eyebrows twitched and he let his tongue roll in his mouth. He was so obviously enjoying keeping you on thin ice. Another flare of anger rushed through you.

And to add to your misfortune, you suddenly heard shouts and the stomping of heavily armoured boots outside the room.

You must’ve been found out.

Your eyes darted to the door, then back to Astarion who must’ve heard the same. His grin had become feral again.

“Oh oh, my dear, looks like you’re about to be caught in flagranti”, he said as he had almost reached you. Your heart and mind raced, searching for an impossible solution.

“Come with me”, Astarion whispered in a deep, sinister tone when he was close enough to reach out to you and elegantly offered you one of his hands.

Your eyes jumped between the door, his face and his offered hand. Outside the steps came closer. You were indeed between a rock and a hard place – and you couldn’t decide which option was more daunting.

“Rot in a dungeon until you die or take my hand, your choice”, Astarion said, his tone now cold and sending new jolts of icy dread through you. And you were suddenly sure that if you were caught and indeed thrown into a dungeon, he would make sure you would die there. So, you probably did not have a choice from the moment you had entered this room.

With your heart racing you took his hand and he immediately drew you in close to him: his forehead almost touching yours in a delicate way. Another gesture you remembered well from him. Emotions swinging wildly from incredible fear to bittersweet melancholy and back again.

“Glad to see you still made the right decision”, he mumbled. His red eyes dropping to your lips for a moment before looking in your eyes again. You weren’t sure you would agree with him.

As he made to turn, you remembered that there was still an amulet to steal. You were a thief after all and even though your client was an evil vampire lord and your former acquaintance you’d rather forget, you sure as hell wouldn’t miss out on the gold – not if you had gotten so close.

Astarion must’ve sensed your intention as your head turned to where the amulet had fallen to the ground. “Oh, don’t worry about that, my love”, he said with a wink at you. “That’s only a replica, I had the real one stolen and replaced months ago. And you should be glad about it because two of the three thieves that were sent didn’t make it out alive”, he continued to explain and let out a laugh at the end as your eyes widened in shock and you felt goosebumps all over your body.

You let yourself get dragged towards the door as your mind tried to make sense of what he had said. This whole situation was becoming worse by the minute. So – not only had he specifically sent you on a quest, but the job hadn’t even been his motive… “Was this whole shitshow just an elaborate setup to get to me?”, you asked the vampire and dragged on his hand that was now firmly held by his, fingers crossed. As soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to bite your tongue off realising you had shouted at him angrily again – and you feared how he would react.

But this time Astarion only grinned at you, lifted your arm and made you turn beneath your joint arms as if dancing until you were chest to chest with him again. “Oh yes, you’re only now getting this? I mean, I could have let you be taken by my servants or broken into your home for a quick little visit, but this is way more fun, isn’t it?”, Astarion drawled. You could only stare at him in shock as hot and cold shivers ran down your spine at his casual explanation of how easily he could have threatened you.

But more than anything you wanted to know why he had taken such elaborate measures to get to you.

But you had no time to voice your question as the door flew open and a bunch of heavily armoured city guards stepped in followed by a bald servant from the estate.

The guards took in the scene and immediately levelled their halberds at the two of you. Astarion let go of you and nonchalantly stepped in front of you and the very pointy and sharp-looking weapons. He casually crossed his arms over his chest – not a care in the world it seemed. But somehow his posture was still that of a threatening predator not that of prey backed against a wall. Maybe it was the way how he held his back straight and slightly leaned forward as if ready to strike at any moment or his absolute stillness as he confronted the guards.

Before any of the guards or the obviously terrified servant could say something, Astarion spoke up: “Care to explain why you are so rudely interrupting this sweet – and dare I say private – moment I was sharing with my beautiful lady?”

His voice was cold now and made the hair at the back of your neck stand up. You’d been the focus of this voice once this evening and deeply wished to not be it again.

“Well, do you care to explain what you and your lady which is also a wanted thief are doing here?”, one of the guards answered – seemingly the captain of the six men and women lowering their weapons at you.

“In fact, I do not. But – I feel rather generously today, so if you’d be so kind as to let me and my lady pass through, then we can all forget about this and go about our lives”, Astarion offered throwing out his arms and then clapping them together again.

The captain threw his head back in laughter and his guards joined in with chuckles. “Who do you think you are?”, the captain replied after a few heartbeats.

The vampire lord lifted one of his hands quickly. You could see it was surrounded by a soft red glow.

With lightning quick motions every single one of the guards had moved and were now pressing their halberds beneath their chins, the metal points already drawing blood for some of them, their eyes filled with the same red glow.

The servant screamed and tried to scurry away, but Astarion’s eyes shot to him and enclosed him in this sort of spell as well: making him grip his own throat with both hands and squeezing.

“I think”, Astarion spoke, his voice filled with otherworldly power “I am someone you don’t want to threaten.” He flicked his hand and the guards parted into a grotesque row for you, their weapons slowly pressing harder against their skin, cutting flesh now. Their faces distorted as they felt the pain.

You had become a statue, horrified by the casual display of violence. You were no stranger to bloodshed, by no means, but this… this was different.

“Come now, my love, before we’re further inconvenienced”, Astarion said as he turned to you again. His demeanour was that of bored arrogance again. He stepped over to you, put his hand on the small of your back and pushed you towards the door – you did not have it in you to resist. Too shocked, maybe, or too scared he’d do the same to you.

You passed the men and women quickly as they were silently suffering. Only as you were past them did you dig your heels down and tried to turn around.

“Let them… let them go”, you demanded shakily. The vampire turned to you, his face a sneer. “Tss, if it makes you happy.” He snapped his fingers and you saw how the spell broke, the tension in the guards’ bodies broke and they toppled over, gasping, screaming. Astarion snapped again and the door flew shut, blocking your view of the men and women. You turned to the vampire lord who was carefully observing you, still holding on to you with one hand.

“Don’t tell me you softened up, my love. After all you were the one pushing me to sacrifice seven thousand souls to become this”, Astarion sneered moving closer to you until his nose was almost touching yours. “Don’t tell me, violence shocks you know, Tav. You’re no innocent lamb.” His eyes sparkled with challenge; his lips curled in slight disgust.

You tried to hold his stare, but you couldn’t. Only after a few heartbeats you had to lower your gaze; because he was right.

He dragged you on. “Come on now”, he demanded, no room for disobedience.

The two of you walked through the giant mansion for long minutes. You weren’t even entirely sure how much time passed as you were too deep inside your thoughts and also kept coming back to notice how gently Astarion was holding your hand as he led you very purposefully through this maze of a place. There was no need for him to still keep holding on to you. You knew you didn’t have a chance to get away from him. But it seemed he enjoyed this method much more than other means.

Then, before you could round a corner, you heard voices coming towards you.

Astarion lifted his free hand again. “No”, you whispered almost out of reflex, your tone pleading. The vampire looked at you in annoyance but simply dragged you to a nearby, small alcove and with a quick mumbled incantation shrouded you in shadows for passing eyes as he pressed his body against yours.

Two servants passed, focused on their idle chatter, as you were painfully aware of the closeness of Astarion’s body: closer than you had been the entire night. You could smell him again as he carefully observed the two passing persons and you kept staring up at his face.

You knew the line of his nose or the way a deep wrinkle formed between his brows when he furrowed them as well as the back of your own hand. Despite everything that had happened this night you couldn’t deny how your body and not least your mind and heart reacted to being so close to Astarion after a decade of mourning him and yearning for him.

The way his body pressed against yours, making you remember how it had felt like to be held by him or kissed. Just how effortlessly close the two of you had been. Whole nights wasted away with laying around naked, talking, embracing each other - not even always ending in sex.

You had felt the walls of the fortress you had built around those memories and feelings start to crumble from the very first moment you had heard his voice again. But the stones started crumble dangerously fast now.

When the servants had passed, Astarion looked at you with a grin, but not seeming inclined to move away. In fact, he even pressed you harder against the wall with a cheeky grin.

You gasped, eyes widening at him as your heartbeat thundered and you realised that you absolutely were the dove facing the dragon and yet craved for this continue – to go further actually.

And Astarion must’ve seen something in your gaze as you looked up at him with doe eyes. His expression changed from playful and cruel to something that almost made your heart stop.

For a moment it seemed in his crimson eyes like something was desperately trying to claw its way up to the surface. Something that had been thought lost almost a decade ago. But the moment passed.

Then Astarion pressed his open lips to yours, taking them in a possessive kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dominantly taking it for himself as one of his hands pressed to your chest on the naked skin of your neckline. With so much force it hurt, his hand wandered up your chest to your neck until he could almost wrap his fingers around your throat.

You could not help but moan into his open mouth in heedless pleasure as the kiss continued aggressively, all teeth and tongues, his fangs grazing your bottom lip and drawing just a single drop of blood.

Tasting you again after what had been ten years of abstinence almost made the vampire lord lose control.  He moaned and his leg pressed between your thighs making you feel embarrassingly hot within in mere moments.

But then something changed. Almost as if an echo of what you had seen in his eyes for a heartbeat or two had come back to haunt him.

The kiss softened, his leg withdrew slightly and the hand on your neck wandered up further to softly cup your cheek. It became something sweet and slower until it was almost delicate and chaste, his thumb on your face caressing it with a featherlight touch.

And you felt your walls not only crumble but turn to dust – all the work of keeping these emotions out, for nothing. You were helpless under his touch and as it felt like something that could almost have been.

Suddenly, Astarion broke the kiss and stepped back – way more than necessary, as if he had suddenly an urge to get as much distance between you as possible. For an instant you saw confusion on his face, but a mask of teasing mischief was slipped quickly back into place.

“So, you do still want me”, the vampire said with another grin. “Interesting”, he whispered as one of his eyebrows twitched and his smirk grew. “Very interesting”, he said louder as he turned away and you asked yourself if he was doing it to keep a safer distance from you now.

“I trust you can find the rest of the way yourself, you’re a capable thief after all”, he said and threw you a last glance before he started to saunter off. “And don’t worry, I’ll be checking up on you again, very soon, my love.” He drew out the last words as he walked away without another look.

Of course, he hadn’t asked if you wanted that, but you had already realised that none of this had been your choice after all; it never had been.

And so, the vampire lord strode away, deep in thought about what kind of storm he might’ve started. While you kept standing there some long moments longer feeling helplessly violated by the events of the night.

But in your heart… In your heart you felt foolish and stupid and yet delicately warm hope rising up, slowly.

[tenderleavesbob]

This was inspired by some lovely non-Hylian Wars fics, including warrior cat Warriors and swan Warriors. <3 Please check them out if you haven't already!

Princess Zelda introduced the new arrival as "Link." While Twilight had expected to meet a Link in this new era to continue their chain, he had expected someone less... fluffy.

Link stared back at the chain from his spot at Princess Zelda's feet. He was beautiful, Twilight admitted. He was happy to admit that the new Link was probably the most beautiful Link of the chain with a gorgeous white coat and a regal bearing. His tail was also so fluffy that Twilight felt his thoughts stuttering.

The new Link was a cat, and Twilight was dying to scoop him up and cuddle him. Unfortunately, the new Link with his furry little scowl, adorable cat-sized armor and blue scarf, and deliberately flexed claws looked like he would claw Twilight if he tried. Twilight still really wanted to try.

The new Link was also staring intently at Twilight. There were few things as intense as a cat staring unblinking at someone.

"I think he likes you," Princess Zelda said. She smiled at Twilight and clasped her hands in front of her. "He --"

Link stood up and stretched, and Twilight bit his tongue before he could coo about Link's big stretch! Link licked his mouth with his pink tongue and flashed tiny sharp fangs. His tail swished in the air behind him as he walked over to Twilight, rubbing against him once before trotting toward a door behind the throne. He paused and looked pointedly back at Twilight, tail flicking.

"He really likes you," Princess Zelda finished. "I think he wants to show you something."

"He seems very intelligent for a cat," Legend said. He sounded suspicious. He always sounded suspicious.

"He's quite intelligent," Princess Zelda agreed. "He might be in an... unusual form for a chosen of the Goddesses, but --"

Link had continued to walk away. Twilight hastily and clumsily bowed and excused himself to follow the cat. Link held his long, fluffy tail in the air as he walked in a dainty question mark behind him. All Twilight desired was to pet it and see if it was as soft as it looked.

The cat eventually stopped in a dark room. It had a single window which overlooked the stable. Link sat in the middle of the room and stared at Twilight, tail still twitching.

It was just the two of them. Twilight broke. He closed the door behind them and touched his crystal. The cat didn't flinch as Twilight transformed into his wolf form. Immediately, he crouched to the ground, his own tail wagging wildly behind him. "Hello," he greeted.

Link stood and offered a small, feline bow. "Hello. When you were introduced as the Hero of Twilight, I hoped you still had the ability to transform."

Twilight's tail slowly stilled. He sat down. "You... knew I could transform?"

"Yes. There are tales of the heroes of old, and Cia had a temple dedicated to those who held the spirit of the hero." Link's left ear twitched, and Link groomed it with one paw. Now that Twilight could see him better, he saw faint, old scars marring that ear. "One statue was of a wolf with strange markings."

This conversation wasn't going as Twilight expected, but cats had always proved strangely wise and clever when Twilight spoke to them in this form. "That sounds creepy. Who was Cia?"

"An insane sorceress." Link cocked his head and lowered his paw again. "One who trapped me in this form years ago when I refused to join her."

Twilight stilled. His ears pressed against his head. "Trapped in... Are you a Hylian?"

"I was years ago," Link said. "Before the war began, when I left my home to come to Castle Town. I met Cia on the way and she grew angry when I scorned her advances." Link's tail twitched behind him. "I've been trapped in this form ever since. I hoped the Master Sword would be able to free me, but no."

A whine rose in Twilight's throat. "Shit."

"Shit," Link agreed. "And since I've found at least one person who could understand me at last... I would like a saucer of cream, please."