#doesn’t even matter that she’s a vampire

[chaoticrage99]

The Veil Between Love and Death

CW: angst, mentions of de@th, possession on Percy’s behalf

Being in Whitestone for the first time, you thought it would be under different circumstances that you did not have to fight the undead or vampires, nonetheless, you were happy to help Percy out through this time of need.

Fighting alongside the members of Vox Machina, who you joined with Keyleth, to destroy the evil and undead that plagued Whitestone by the Briarwoods, who you all found out were the people who murdered Percy’s family and had taken over Whitestone.

They had turned it into a barren and desolate wasteland, filled with walking stone giant zombies. You were mortified and infuriated at how the people were being treated and the party felt the same, Percy even more.

From rescue missions to setting different houses on fire, you all helped the revolution and made your way into the castle to finally defeat the Briarwoods. Battling different foes and trying to stop Percy from killing one of the people on the barrels of his gun. You all seem to notice the black smoke becoming more and more apparent and visible and he didn’t seem to be himself, taking a mental note for yourself as you continued downward.

You all were below the castle, on top of a ziggurat, fighting the Briarwoods and a charmed Vax’ildan and Cassandra. You were helping Vex to snap Vax out of his charmed spell but nothing seemed to be working no matter what you or Vex said to him. You looked over to Percy who appeared to be having no luck with Cassandra as Sylus was in the middle of their fight. Luckily for you guys, Keyleth made sunlight to help break the charm, and together, with Grog, they burned Sylus to dust and took Delilah with you all.

Vax was helping aid Keyleth when you all made it to the acid room. You notice that Percy is almost completely wrapped in the black smoke and doesn’t seem like himself when talking to Delilah. The way that he was threatening her for vengeance for his family and going to torture her bit by bit so it lingers, that wasn’t Percy anymore and you knew that. Vex stepped in front of him and Delilah and from where you were, you could hear their conversation. She carefully took off the mask and it revealed Percy’s face he looked terrified and his eyes had blackened with his iris’ now bright orange.

Ever since you and Keyleth had joined Vox Machina, you and Percy were always together whether you were helping him build new weapons or just going into town and getting supplies for the team.

The more time you spent with Percy, the more you started to fall for him and who he was. The slightest touch of your hands with his made you crave his touch more and anytime your eyes met for a few seconds, you would look away and blush a bit. You both would confine in each other with whatever was bothering you or if you had a certain problem that was bothering you, except whenever he told you and the party about the Briarwoods and his family.

Everyone has secrets in the end.

Suddenly black smoke overtook Percy revealing itself as the smoke demon Orthax. The team was keeping Delilah away from Percy no matter the cost. That seemed to make Orthax upset and he had completely taken over Percy’s body and was making him shoot at anything that stood in his way for vengeance.

“Percy! You must stop this! This isn’t you, wake up!” You shout at him while dodging bullets while helping the others. This wasn’t the Percy you had fallen in love with and he needed to fight Orthax and regain control.

“Isn’t there something someone can do?” Vax yells out as he jumps behind the cover that you, Vex, and Keyleth were behind.

“You’re not under a charm anymore, say something to him! Say anything!” Vex grips Cassandra’s collar while saying this before letting her go. Cassandra nods, gets up from behind the cover, and slowly walks towards Percy as Orthax’s form looms over him.

You decided to go with her and hold onto her shoulder to give her support when she was reaching out and telling Percy to fight within and find the real him, which the others had come out so you all were together as a group.

BANG!

Suddenly you felt a burning pain shoot through your body, close to your heart. You let go of Cassandra and look down and see that you were shot through your chest as black smoke wisps up and dissipates. The blood seeping through your shirt and some coming out of your mouth, you stumble a bit before looking up at Percy with tears rolling down your cheeks and seeing one of his eyes had returned to normal.

“Percy…” you said before you fell to the cold concrete ground.

You hear a scream and a second gunshot had gone off, not sure where it went or who it was for due to your vision fading in and out. You saw blurs in front of you and the sounds were beginning to be muffled and turn into high-pitched ringing. Suddenly visions of your life started flashing before you so realistically as if you were reliving your life over again.

Most of the moments you saw were times spent with Percy and how he made you laugh and smile, especially when you were helping him with his experiments and some of them blowing up in his face. You both look at each other and burst out laughing as black powder covered his face. Other moments showed you two enjoying each other's presence, whether it was chatting over something or reading together in silence in the foyer of Grayskull Keep.

A tear rolls down your cheek as the moments begin to dissipate, leaving you with nothing.

You wanted to say something but couldn’t before suddenly, your vision faded to black. All senses slowly left you and the last thing you swore you could hear, even with your hearing muffled, was someone yelling, “Y/N!”, and then darkness. You slowly fall into a cold and deep dark solitude, wondering if you will ever see your friends or your love again.

Author’s note: So this is the first thing I’m posting so I hope you all enjoy. I hope to post more Vox Machina tales soon. If you’d like a part 2, please let me know. Also I’m not great with titles so apologies for that lol 😅

[age-of-moonknight]

“Contest of Chaos: Part Four,” Moon Knight Annual (Vol. 4/2023), #1.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Creees Lee; Colorist: Arif Prianto; Letterer: Cory Petit

[widowshill]

mrs collins arc in summary

[riverofempathy]

It’s a shame, really, that no one registers it as physical violence, or any of Edward’s behavior in New Moon as problematic. Like, they straight up left Bella without a goodbye and let Edward abandon her in the woods even when Alice can see how devastated and depressed she will be. Oh, and Alice’s visions can’t predict if a bear or cougar will randomly come across Bella and attack her, you know? So whyyyyy would they risk that? They just let Edward treat her terribly because “it’s his relationship” I guess.

But anyway, back to this scene specifically (which I completely forgot about). I know Esme adores Edward, but she had an abusive husband. You’re telling me she saw Edward doing THAT to Bella and she wasn’t concerned at ALL?

If she’s too blinded by motherly love, fine, how about Rosalie? Rosalie doesn’t like Bella, sure, but she doesn’t really like Edward, either. She tolerates him at best. You would think she of all people could look at Edward without rose-tinted glasses and realize that even if he was being gentle by vampire standards, he was being violent and controlling by human standards. And she would know, given the very violent last night of her life. In the movie version of her assault, her scumbag fiancé actually did a very similar thing to her, in fact—grabbed her jaw and controlled the way it turned.

No matter how much Rosalie disliked her, she still took the time to tell Bella when she was making a mistake and when she was giving up too much. Because of her past, Rose believed very strongly that Bella should have a choice—and here was Edward, forcibly holding and turning Bella’s jaw so that it was hard for her to speak or even move.

Rosalie of all people should have seen that as a red flag, and Rosalie of all people WOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING TO BELLA. She also should have given Edward a piece of her mind. Like, immediately, in fact.

“Get your hands off her! This is her life, her choice! You don’t get to decide anything for her! And you definitely don’t get to control her body!”

I swear, Stephenie Meyer didn’t consider the impact of assault or abuse at all when she used that as a backstory for Rosalie… and Esme… and Bella… and Victoria… Like, she just needed these women to be in danger/almost die in order to be saved by a vampire (or in Victoria’s case date one, even though James was a serial killer and should have been the last man she ever wanted to be with). It’s so frustrating, that Stephenie wrote those stories again and again, but they changed NOTHING about the characters or the plot, which is NOT how it works. SA causes trauma. For a long time. It is not a plot device. It is a real thing that happens to women, to children, to men, even, but of course when Stephenie had an opportunity for those same backstories to happen for men, she changed it, so she can fuck right off with that noise.

If you’re not going to do anything with a character’s trauma, let alone show them having trauma, leave it out.

Rosalie could have died in a hit and run (with her drunk fiancé and his friends behind the wheel, of course; she could still seek revenge on them if it was important to Stephenie; but apparently not since in Breaking Dawn, she forgot Rosalie had crazy self-control).

Esme didn’t have to be in an abusive marriage; the story of her jumping off a cliff because of the grief of losing her infant child is already intense and traumatic, and the way it was written, her abusive husband had nothing to do with it; he could have been a loving husband, or she could have been widowed, or she could have had the child out of wedlock, and the story could have ended the same.

Bella didn’t have to nearly get assaulted, either; Edward already saved her life once, so instead of randomly having them not talk for months after that, just let the friendship/romance (and PLOT) bloom immediately. You don’t need another damsel-in-distress moment, and certainly not one where you frame it as the victim’s fault. But fine, you want another suspenseful scene where Edward has to save her? What if she’s just lost and panicking? You laid out the groundwork already.

Here’s the thing, Stephenie, about plots for female characters: it doesn’t have to be violent. Why are you so focused on making violent things happen to women? More specifically, why do you keep choosing sexual violence? A woman’s literal worst nightmare? If you at least had them process the trauma and heal from it, that would be one thing. But putting women through violent things just to put them through violent things? And then taking their genderbent counterparts and putting them through different things? It’s almost like you could have put them through different scenarios all along…

Oh, and then you have both the love interests do aggressive, controlling, hurtful things… and you act like that’s normal, like that’s ROMANCE?!

….

Stephenie, are you okay? Do you need us to call someone?

I’m not sure if you’ve ever said anything about this, but the first time I read new moon, the vote chapter, there was one bit that really stuck out:

(from Bella’s point of view) Edward grabbed my face in his hand, forcing me to look at him. His other hand was out, palm toward Carlisle. Carlisle ignored that.

Bella later went on to say it was hard to talk clearly with how Edward was holding her jaw. I don’t know if I’ve misunderstood what exactly was happening, but why did the entire family watch that and do nothing? I’ve read the metas where you’ve said it’d take a lot for Carlisle to realise what Edward really is, but surely that’s a pretty massive indicator and Carlisle actively ignored it?

Anon, you're hilarious.

An Aside in Which I Say "Look in the Mirror"

I've been running this blog for a few years now (a terrifying thought) and I'm both a) one of the most critical of Edward in this space (which is not a bad thing, mind, people are free to do what they like) b) often get asks in which I am asked by anons to justify why I think poorly of Edward.

This is on top of the thousands of metas I've written pointing out various things from canon, where I've presented many arguments, and anons still will ask me to make more arguments.

This is fandom, anon, relatively objective observers who are privy to information the characters in the story don't have. We know Bella's exact thoughts, we know how Edward has interacted with her in private, and we even know Edward's private thoughts for at least the duration of Twilight because of Midnight Sun.

AND YET, I AM HERE.

And you ask this as if it should be obvious to the most casual observer.

Back to Your Ask

I've discussed this at length in posts I'm too lazy to look up at the moment but the crux of it is that

a) Edward's a beloved family member and it's deeply hard to think ill of those we love and we want to justify their actions

b) the family doesn't see most of what goes on with Bella and are only told things by Alice and Edward with Alice being firmly on Edward's side

c) Due to his having previously had a redemption arc in which Edward came back unprompted to the diet even though it must have been not only humiliating but terrifying, Edward comes across as one of the Cullens who best understands that human life is worth protecting and just why they're all doing the diet.

This particular moment though, I'd also give Edward a pass if I was present. To touch Bella at all, to move her like this, Edward has to be extraordinarily gentle and careful. If he was at all rough with her, at all, Bella would be dead or seriously injured (with her jaw crushed between Edward's fingers, her neck snapped, etc.) Basically, for Edward to do this at all, he's being incredibly mindful and the Cullens as vampires are very aware of that.

Add onto that that Bella can speak, when this is a guy who's hand is made of stone, he has to be holding her incredibly gently from his perspective for her to be able to speak at all (and not have a broken jaw).

Also from the outside perspective, where Bella and Edward are in this romantic relationship (even though they just got out of being broken up) and they all know Edward's deeply in love with Bella, this looks like an intimate gesture than it does a "LOOK AT ME" gesture. It's not something any of them would do, or a normal person would, but they're also not dating Bella/convinced they're soulmates with her.

Add into that that they're in the middle of a very intense day, in which Edward had just tried to kill himself and is very emotionally fragile, Bella's now asking to be turned directly, the Volturi barely pardoned them, and Edward is coming unglued with the idea that Bella's going to be turned and the Cullens aren't at the top of their game.

They're just trying to get through the conversation where they tell Edward (and Rosalie) that, yes, they actually do have to turn Bella.

This doesn't register as physical violence to them, and I don't blame them for this one.

[buck-star]

When night comes | B.B

>> Sweet loving all day — but deep down he has a secret that comes out at night. The sweet and loving man turning into a feral and needing man when it comes to what he wants — you. <<

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 7.184 Words

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, kinda stalking, mention of blood, smut [finger sucking, fingering (fem!rec), protected p in v, multiple orgasm, size kink, one slap on her tits], calming/bitting, licking to heal it, praises

Authors Note: First oneshot on this account, you may know me as @buckys-wintersoldier but I made a new account (some personal reasons). Dividers made by me.

Events: Alternate June-iverse [Card 4006; C1; Painter], Fandom-Free Bingo: Maritime May [Row Three-Two; first time], Hot Bucky Summer [Week 9; Free Week], Bucky Barnes Bingo [Y5; Ice cream], July Break Bingo [Row One-Three; Giving them your jacket or wearing their clothes]

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

It was just a warm summer day, a fresh breeze cutting the burning sun of the day. Your hair moves softly with the wind, especially with every movement you’re doing forward. There aren’t any disturbing thoughts in your mind at the moment, the feeling of the warmth after so many days of rain, making you happy and helping you to relax between your work and private life.

Even though there isn’t that much going on in your private life, not since your new boss is managing the business and making you finish your work every day no matter how long you have to work or if it’s someone else's shit you have to do, he doesn’t care.

So there isn’t much time for you to do something for yourself, except today — your first day free in a long while. Luckily for you, the sun is shining, the weather is perfect and you couldn’t imagine something better than just being in the park with ice, your notebook and pen.

You walk slowly through the park, already seeing your favorite ice booth, smiling widely when the sun warms you and you already feel anticipation to get your favorite ice cream.

Around you are a few people, some with their kids, some with their friends but it’s nothing new for you. You’re working with people all day. A small girl is running toward you, looking back at her brother who chases after her. She runs straight into your arms without wanting it, shrieking when her small arms are suddenly wrapped around your thighs.

“Oh- Hiiiii,” she giggles, looking up at you. Her small hands caressing your skin over your knee and you smile at her. “‘m sorry, my brother is chasing after me.”

Her giggles make you smile even more, she is adorable. You don’t have kids, you’re too busy with work and haven’t met the right guy yet. Maybe you will find someone someday who wants a family with you and then maybe someday there will be small little kids running through your apartment. Maybe jumping on top of you in the early morning where you and your future man will be still tired but the moment you will look at them and their pretty smile you will see everything you always needed — a family with the man you love and some sweet kids and maybe one or two dogs.

But right now you have that little girl in front of you, smiling at you. She lets go of your thighs, taking a step backwards before she runs once again to get away from her laughing brother. He grins at you as well, running next to you to chase further after his sister. “COME HERE! We are not done yet! You tickled me now it’s my turn,” he giggles sweetly.

You shake your head amused by the two kids, then you continue walking to your favorite ice cream booth. There aren’t many people just yet, which is surprising because it’s not only your favorite place to get ice cream plus it’s a warm day, a free day for most people and it’s in the middle of the park.

“Hey,” you greet the smiling lady behind the counter. She is wearing a shirt with the logo of the shop. She nods toward you, waiting for you to look for whatever you want to order.

“And? Do you already know what you want or do you need a moment to decide?” She asks, looking at you the whole time while you look through all the different kinds of ice cream.

After a while you sit at the lake in the park, legs dangling over the edge of the bench while you hold your notebook in your hands, looking around for some inspiration to draw. Your eyes roam over the trees, the lake and the people until…

There is one man who gets your attention, he is sitting in the shade of the tree, he wears a dark shirt and dark, long pants. Compared to the others around you his clothes are dark and his pants are long, definitely not for such warm weather.

You study him, his long, dark-brown hair, hanging in his face, covering half of it. The end on his broad shoulders, your eyes roam lower to his stomach where his dark shirt is tight enough to reveal his highly defined muscular abs. His waist is small, leading to his long legs to his feet. You let your gaze slide back to his face which is still covered with his long hair.

Only when he moves slightly and the sun is slightly shining on him do you see a glistening — a necklace which is stuck in his shirt. You’re not sure why but he has something you want to discover, something mysterious and kind of scary but still interesting.

Without thinking much more you bring your pen down on the page of your notebook, starting to draw the broad form of the man. Little do you know, that he looks at you, taking in every small movement you’re doing, smirking to himself when he notices that you can’t keep your eyes off him — you like the mysterious, he knows it, he knew from the day he saw you walking down the street after work. And since then he knew he has to have you, he needs you to be his — only his.

You look up at him every now and then, taking in his big frame, trying to catch all the details while he doesn’t really move all the time. It’s like he knows that you draw him, like he wants you to notice him. With a soft smile across your lips you finish the first part of your drawing, you now need to draw some prominent lines and then the shadows before you’re finished with your drawing of the mysterious man.

Slowly he gets up, his eyes always on you but you look fast focused on your notebook, not giving him any kind of attention anymore. He huffs, gritting his teeth slightly when a man walks past you, eyes looking down at your smaller frame, not noticing the guy in front of you — luckily for him he doesn’t talk or touch you, just casually walking further through the park.

Once you’re almost done with your drawing you look up to look at the tree once again. Your smile drops as soon as you notice that the man isn’t sitting there anymore. Trying to find him somewhere else in the park you look around, behind you, right, left but there is not a single hint that the man who sat there just a few minutes ago was even in the park.

“Lookin’ for someone, darlin’?” A deep voice suddenly asks and your head shoots to your side, you gasp. There he is — standing right next to you, his ocean blue eyes focused on you and he smiles down at you, before letting himself fall down on the bench beside you. “Don’t want ya to look sad because ya think I’m not sayin’ ‘Hi’.”

Your eyes scan his face, from his hair upwards, over his forehead — his skin pale and you wonder if he doesn’t like the sun or just works a lot as well. You let your gaze slide to his eyes, ocean blue — you have trouble looking at something else, his eyes holding yours intensely. When you finally manage to study his face further you reach his plump lips — red and soft, causing you to shiver once again.

“Like what ya see?” He asks, his tone amused. You nod your head, staring into his eyes once again. A low chuckle leaves his throat, his blue eyes roaming over your face as his tongue darts out, sliding across his beautiful lips. The moment his tongue slips back into his mouth his teeth are visible and you notice the two at the side which don't look like normal teeth — they are sharp, shining white as much as the others but those two are just too sharp for normal teeth.

You swallow thickly, frowning. He notices the slight change in your expression, tilting his head to wait for you to say something or just run away and be scared of him. But you don’t, you only shift in your seat, eyes moving from his lips to his eyes and back to his lips.

“Have you— where did you let your teeth form like that?” You ask, smirking at him. You always had a weakness for vampires, especially in the movies and series you watch but unfortunately they aren’t real and maybe it wouldn’t be too funny to stand in front of a feral vampire?

He growls low, sounding like a laugh mixed with a groan. Your cheeks heat up and you shift in your seat once again. “Not really, I was born with them, not with them but with a smaller version of them.”

You nod your head, not sure if he is joking or not. He really reminds you of those vampires in your series. His skin is so pale and his eyes change sometimes when he smirks they turn into ones that look pretty similar to cat ones. Plus his teeth look just like the ones you saw by vampires.

“Don’t believe me, doll?” He asks, chuckling. His eyes fall to your book and he smirks even wider. “Would you mind changing our place to sit in the shade? Of course, only if you want my company for a while longer.”

“I-I don’t even know your name,” you chuckle, rubbing your hand over the cover of your book as you look into his eyes, still fascinated by them and especially by the mysterious man in front of you. “But if you want we can move to the bench over there?”

The man looks into the direction you point into, a bench underneath a tree is free, a lot of shade and barely sun, like he loves it. With a nod he gets up, holding out his hand for you to grasp and let him pull you up. You place your smaller hand in his, shivering as you see his bright smile the moment he notices that your hand is not only way smaller but feeling also so soft in his rough one.

“Bucky, ya asked for my name, it’s Bucky. Actually James, but ya know,” he chuckles, keeping your hand in his and interlacing your fingers when he walks with you over to the other bench to sit down there and continue talking.

You introduce yourself as well, mumbling his name to see if it feels good when it slips over your lips and it definitely does. He smiles the whole time at you, trying to push his thoughts away, he has waited to get you all for himself for so long now he can’t mess it up with being creepy and scaring you away.

“What do ya paint there? Ya know, I’ve seen ya lookin’ at me all the time,” he asks, nodding at your book. You grip it tighter, unsure if you want to show him or not but he really looks interested.

“I-I draw everything that inspires me, and it was y-you today,” you mumble, opening the book slowly to show him the page you drew him — sitting underneath the tree. Bucky has to admit that your drawing is the most wonderful he has seen in all these years he already lives, and you really caught every detail of him, even the necklace.

You sit there with Bucky, talking about everything and nothing but you still don’t know much about him. The sun goes down slowly, the sky darkening and Bucky has less problems walking around, even asking you to go for a walk with him.

The two of you are already walking half an hour through the park and he is such a sweet and loving man, making sure you’re not freezing and not bored, always finding new things to talk about.

“What about your boyfriend, do you have one? Or your family?” He asks, turning his head slightly, his fingers interlaced with yours and he makes sure to keep your hand right where it belongs, in his, with you by his side.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, not even time for one. And my family? We don’t talk often, they live far away. What about you?” You ask, smirking up at him.

He shakes his head, not needing to say anything. His gaze falls to your hands.

“Think I would be out here and talk to someone if I would have my girl at home?”

“No, but maybe you’re playing around?” You giggle, earning a raised eyebrow from him. The two of you continue walking through the park until you reach the end of it where it leads into a small forest.

You’re surrounded by almost complete darkness by now, only some lamps and the stars and the moon light up the night slightly. The wind is cold, causing you to shiver now and then even though you try to hide it from Bucky — he still notices.

“You’re freezing, let me bring you home to me, it’s not far away, just for the night if you want to,” Bucky mumbles, licking his lips as he waits for you to answer. His intense blue eyes staring down at you, giving you no room to discuss with him.

You nod, giving in to him. Bucky leads you into the forest and suddenly you’re not so sure about following him home but you don’t have a choice, do you? Your home isn’t too close to the park and you don’t want Bucky to bring you all the way home as well, so you prefer being around the mysterious man, at least you feel safe with him.

The walk isn’t too long until you see a big mansion in front of you. It’s in black and gray colors, underlining Bucky’s style even more. Even though it looks just as mysterious as Bucky himself it makes you curious how it looks from the inside, how the man lives.

“Darlin’” he mumbles, stopping you in his tracks when you stand in front of the front door. Bucky’s chest is almost pressed against yours when he looks down at you. “My style is not the usual one you know from people, so don’t be scared when I open the door and you’re greeted by another kind of house and things, understood?”

His tone sounds more serious now, not joking but authority is audible. “Y-yes, trust me, I have seen a lot of different styles already.” When you giggle he nods, unlocking the door and opening it.

You gasp, the house is more like a whole mansion, a long floor with a lot of doors, plus stairs with probably more doors leading into different rooms. You step inside, looking around, it’s all in black and dark gray, it really reminds you of the houses of a vampire and a feeling you haven’t had before creeps up inside of you. Maybe Bucky isn’t the one you thought he is? But there are no such things like vampires, right? They only exist in movies, stories but not in real life.

“Take off your shoes and then follow me, doll,” he says, voice soft again. Bucky just likes the style he has in his house, you’re sure about it. But instead of that he is just a sweetheart, taking care of you and being all nice.

You do as you’re told, placing your shoes next to his before following Bucky who walks along the long floor, opening a door which leads into another big room.

A couch stands in the middle, television and a few pictures on the wall and on the other side of the room is a big shelf with a lot of books. You turn to face him, smirking at him.

“Nerd, huh?” You tease, walking further into the room, followed by Bucky who raises his eyebrows. You giggle, letting yourself fall down on his couch which is surprisingly soft underneath you. “Are you a vampire?”

It was just a teasing and fun question but his sudden change in expression causes a cold shiver down your spine. “No nerd. Vampire is way better,” he smirks, taking a seat next to you. “Would you mind that, sweetheart? Would you mind me being a vampire?”

You giggle, shaking your head. You’re giggling a lot around him and it makes you feel embarrassed sometimes but Bucky enjoys your soft giggles, he even loves when you giggle around him.

“I wouldn’t mind but there are no vampires, but if you would be on I wouldn’t mind that,” you say, turning around to sit with your face and chest to Bucky.

“There aren’t?” He asks, the first time he smiles while showing his teeth to you. A soft gasp leaves your lips, your eyes widen when you notice his sharp teeth once again. “Are you sure about that, doll?”

You nod your head, fascinated by his teeth and eyes which turn slowly yellow. “W-What? Y-you like vampires?”

He chuckles, growling at you. Bucky leans forward with a fast but gentle move; he has his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his mouth is right next to your ear. His tongue darts out, sliding over his plumb lips causing them to glisten in the light.

“I do like vampires but you’re my favorite, babygirl. And I don’t just like them,” he growls, his tongue touching the edge of your ear, slowly licking down to your earlobe and then lower to your neck. The moment his soft lips touch your skin he smirks at your goosebumps, gracing his sharp teeth over your soft skin.

“B-Bucky,” you whine, not exactly knowing what you’re begging for — it just slipped past your slightly parted lips. “Please.”

He moves away from you, his hand sliding to the front of your neck and he grabs it in a firm hold. Bucky leans back to look into your eyes, letting his eyes roam over your face for a second before he stares straight into your eyes.

“What is it, doll? What do you want me to do? Claim you, make sure to show everyone that you’re mine? Because that’s what you are, you’re mine and only mine,” he growls, smirking when you whimper.

Your eyes widen once again, you didn’t think he would say things — that he thinks those things — and as hard as it is to believe that he is a vampire you suddenly feel like he really means it.

“Y-you really are a-a vampire? Y-you’re real?” You gasp, mouth drops open when you once again stare at his sharp teeth, earning a soft chuckle followed by a nod.

“That’s what I am, darling,” he chuckles deep in his throat, his expression amused. “You said you wouldn’t mind that.”

He adores — he loves your widened eyes and open mouth, still trusting him because you don’t back away, letting him hold you close, his hand wrapped around your neck. Bucky growls, he wants you so bad, he needs you — he can’t stand other men looking at you and thinking they could have you — Bucky has seen the way the man looked at you with hungry gazes, ready to get you into their bed. But you’re Bucky’s, only Bucky’s.

“A-Are you- do-?” You stumble over your own words, swallowing thickly before clearing your throat. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, he immediately shakes his head. “No! Never! I couldn’t, I would never hurt you, unless you ask me to do it, babydoll. But I need you, need you to be mine, want you to be mine,” he says, leaning closer until his lips almost brush yours. You whine, eyes flutter shut when you feel his warm breath on your lips, you want to feel them, taste him.

A soft grunt works his way up his throat as he sees your expression and the way you’re giving in to him already. Bucky knows you’re perfect for him, his babydoll.You wonder what his intentions are but he answers your unspoken question when he leans even closer.

“I want you to be mine, can’t stand the thought of some other man staring at you. I saw you for the first time on a rainy day when you went home from work and I couldn’t stop staring at you. You’re so perfect, I need you, need you to be mine, need to be yours, please, doll,” he mumbles against your lips, his eyes roaming over yours and your nose, waiting for you to answer.

You don’t know what came into your mind to react like that but you couldn’t hold back — you need to feel him. So you lean closer, pressing your lips softly against his plumb ones. Bucky smirks, moving his lips as lovingly and gently as he can against yours. A soft moan escapes your lips and Bucky uses the moment to bring his tongue into the kiss, making every feeling even more intense but still loving.

After a moment he pulls away, smiling at you. He lets his tongue run over his lips again, tasting your sweet scent on them. You can’t still taste his fresh minty taste on your tongue, and the two of you are already addicted to one another.

“Is that kind of magic?” The chuckle he lets out at your question causes even more butterflies in your stomach. In case it’s magic, it’s the best magic you have ever seen and felt. Better than every card trick, hat trick or whatever, Bucky’s magic would be the most beautiful.

But he shakes his head — no magic. “That’s love, doll, nothing but pure love,” he says, grinning at you with the most adorable smile you have ever seen.

You and Bucky are sitting on the couch a while longer, you have too many questions to be able to sleep without having half of them answered by him. And Bucky gladly answers them, trying to explain everything to you as best as he can.

There would be people who would have pushed him away and would have preferred the dark forest instead of a vampire but Bucky is so much more than a blood-hungry vampire — he is loving, gentle, cares and sweet to you — so much more than every man in your life before Bucky.

“Any more questions, babydoll?” He asks, his hand moving up and down your thigh. You shake your head, stopping in your tracks as something comes into your mind. “What is it?”

“Can you kiss me again?”

Bucky chuckles, bringing his hand back to your cheek, his long fingers wrapping around your head, pulling you closer. “Close your eyes,” he whispers, smirking when you obey.

He inhales your sweet scent deeply, pressing his lips gently against yours. The first movement is sweet but then his eyes shoot open and he pulls away, gasping, his breath heavy. You giggle softly until his eyes turn dark, his thumb from his free hand running over his lips and wiping away your mixed saliva with a bit of your blood.

“F-Fuck, darling,” he pants. His instinct tells him to just push you backwards and claim you already but he knows he shouldn’t without your permission. But isn't wanting to kiss him after biting your own lip bloody a kind of permission? “Need you so bad, fuck. Be mine, love, let me make you mine, be with me forever.”

With every other man you would have told him to calm down and make sure you’re dating. But with Bucky? He got your attention the moment he sat there in the shade of the tree earlier that day and being around him makes everything inside of your tingle, causing you to be happy — to be free. Being with Bucky feels like everything you thought would always be a dream but now it’s true, you’re there with a guy who wants you — with a vampire who wants to be yours.

“Babydoll? ‘m sorry,” he mumbles, ready to let go of your cheek but you grasp his hand and hold it in place. “Can I? Can I make you mine, forever?”

You nod softly, smiling at him. He told you that if a vampire is bonding with someone they will stay together forever. It’s a promise normal humans can’t do, but the imagination of you and Bucky forever is something you would love to make real and he is willing to do that — so who are you to deny his request?

“You know I have only one bed anyway, so it makes that even easier because you will stay in my bed with me from now on anyway,” he chuckles. His hand slides down your cheek to your chin, grasping it gently to tilt your head up. “You’re mine, you hear me? Gonna protect you, from everyone’s gaze, from everyone, even your boss who should have been way nicer to you, babydoll.”

You chuckle, sliding your small hand over his big, broad chest. His muscles tensing underneath your soft touch. You can feel his heart beating faster as your hand rests on his chest, feeling his thick muscles flexing underneath your touch.

Bucky sits up straighter, towering over you now. And it’s perfect, so thick and muscular, perfect to protect you from everything, he could pick you up and carry you wherever he wants without effort. And that’s what he does, getting off the couch, placing his hands underneath your thighs to lift you up.

“Look at you, looking all small and pretty in my arms, yeah! That’s what you like, don’t you, sweetheart? You love feeling all protected by me,” he growls, kissing your cheek down to your neck as you tilt your head to the side giving him more space.

Without realizing Bucky walks through the room and into another one, you’re not sure where it is because you’re feeling too good in Bucky’s arms. He carries you through the house, peppering kisses along your neck and jawline but leaving you desperate for more, for his taste. Desperate to feel his lips against yours.

Bucky’s sharp teeth scratch carefully over your sensitive skin, causing you to whine and squirm in his arms. You’ve never felt that desperate, especially not with a man.

He placed you on the bed, it’s comfortable and soft. You let yourself fall down on your back, smiling at him while he takes off his shirt. Bucky reveals his broad, hairy chest, smirking at the way your eyes roam over his thick chest and abs muscles. He then unbuckles his belt, letting his pants fall down on the ground, the sound of the metal hitting the ground echoes through the room but neither of you cares.

Your eyes wander lower to his still covered crotch, his bulge visible through the thin fabric and your mouth immediately waters. Bucky’s not only thick but also big down there. Just as his chest his thighs look perfectly fine but as much as hurry you can’t help but stare at his still growing cock.

“You like what you see, doll? How about we help you out of your sweet outfit so I’m not the only one being almost naked here?” He asks, getting a soft whimper from you. Bucky smirks, knowing that you want him to take off his boxers but he doesn’t want to give you that just yet, first he wants to admire your body.

The vampire walks slowly toward you, crawling onto the bed and almost towering above you. He grasps your ankles, your back rests against the headboard and you smile at him but he pulls you down by your ankles to reach your pants. Bucky opens them, pushing them down and leaving you in your shirt and a pair of panties as he spreads your legs to get in between them.

Bucky smirks, running his fingers from your thigh up to your hips and further underneath your shirt. He curls the hem of the shirt around his thick fingers, with one smooth movement he has ripped it into pieces and throws it somewhere into the room.

Before you can protest he shushes you, his thumb tracing your lips before he pushes it inside your mouth, letting you suck his thumb. You twirl your tongue around it, moaning at his taste.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He growls, grinning at you. Bucky lets his fingers slide out of your mouth again, smearing your saliva over your lips before removing his hand completely. “Stay quiet, let me admire you a bit, can you do that, doll?”

You nod your head, your eyes roaming over his face as he brings his fingers to your bra. He rips it open, smirking at your soft gasp once again, Bucky should definitely find out some more ways to bring those pretty, sweet gasps out of you. The vampire brings his big hands to your chest, grasping both of your tits in his hands, massaging them with a firm but still soft grip.

Soft moans and whimpers leave your lips, his fingers pinching your nipples, causing you to arch your back and press more against Bucky. He growls, leaning his head down, gracing his teeth over the soft swell of your breast.

“B-Bucky, pl-“

“Shh, shh, told you to be quiet for me, babydoll,” he shushes, biting softly into your skin but taking care to not hurt you with his sharp teeth. His hands slide further down your body to your panties, his lips all over your chest and stomach. “Can I take them off?”

You nod, bucking your hips. He chuckles low in his throat, grasping the thin fabric of your panties and helping you out of them. His eyes immediately fall to your pussy, darkening as his tongue darts out and wets his lips.

You squirm under his intense gaze, trying to close your legs but Bucky is still between your legs, his big form keeping you spread out for him. Bucky runs one of his hands down to your folds, parting them while he runs his fingers through your wetness, cursing under his breath.

“Fucking pretty, wanna taste you, all of you, babydoll,” he mumbles, dipping two of his thick fingers into your tight cunt, groaning when he doesn’t even fit inside of you. “Look at ya, too tight to take my fingers, so fucking tight — perfect.”

He slowly presses one of his digits into you, your pussy is gripping his one finger already tight enough to not make much movements. Even though your wetness is dripping out of you, your cunt is too tight for him, especially for his cock.

You’re moaning underneath him, pressing yourself further against him but he doesn’t push his finger into you completely, just the tip of it. “B-Bucky, please, need you.”

The vampire shakes his head, his eyes roaming over your body up to your face. He smirks, removing his finger once again before pushing a bit more of it into you. After a moment of entering you more with his finger he places his thumb on your clit, causing a shriek to creep up your throat and leave your lips.

You have never felt such a sensation and Bucky’s finger working you open, curling inside of you and scratching along your tight walls plus his thumb on your clit causes the pleasure to rush through your body over and over again.

He is bringing you closer and closer to the edge, his smirk is spread across his face when he notices your legs shaking. Your breath gets heavier and he can say you’re close. The coil in your stomach feels like it’s going to snap at any second, Bucky’s finger inside of you curling over and over again, hitting your sweet spot while his thumb is pressing down on your clit.

“Come for me, babygirl. All over my fingers, make a mess, come on,” he grumbles, his eyes focused on your face to get every little scrunch of your nose, every part of your eyes and mouth when you come apart in his finger.

With your fingers digging into the sheets underneath you, your mouth falls open and your eyes shut the moment the coil inside of you snaps and your pussy clenches violently around Bucky's digit. He continues to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves until you grasp his hand and try to stop him from moving it.

“T-too much, please,” you whine. The vampire looks down at his hand, smirking at the mess you made all over his hand and the sheets. With a soft movement to not stimulate your sensitive cunt anymore he pulls out of you.

“Did so well for me, so fucking tight. Can’t even get my fingers into you without struggling, how will you manage to get my cock into your sweet cunt, darling?” He chuckles, teasing you about your tightness a bit more. “Good girl, such a good girl.”

Bucky brings his fingers to his lips, grinning at you as his tongue touches his fingers and he sucks your sweet juices off his finger. A low — almost animatic groan leaves his lips when he swallows it, you taste so fucking good and he can’t get enough. He would love to just lie down and bury his face in your pussy until you can’t take it anymore, whining and whimpering underneath him.

“Please, need you, try it, please,” you mumble, leaning up to hold on to him and pull him down with you but only then you notice he is still wearing boxer briefs. “Take ‘em off, please, Bucky.”

The brown haired chuckles, his finger slips out of his mouth with a ‘plop’. He then hooks them into the waistband of his boxers and shoves them down. Bucky’s rock hard cock springs free, the red tip is leaking pre-cum and you almost moan at the sight.

His cock is big and so thick, you’re really not sure if he fits into you. Bucky’s balls are just as big, hanging down, full with cum and ready to pump every bit of it into your pussy.

“You sure you want that, doll?” He asks, smirking when your eyes are glassy and your hands around his thick muscular biceps to make sure he won’t move away from you. You nod slightly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer but he is too strong for you to move him closer. “Aww, doll, so impatient. Lemme grab a condom or else we'll get little bats flying around here soon.”

Your eyes widen. “Bats? You’re kidding right?”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t be able to turn into bats immediately but once they are older they can do that, I can too! I would show you but I’m so comfortable in between your legs right now.”

With another smirk he leans to the small drawer next to the bed, opening it. Bucky brings the condom to his mouth, ripping the package open with one of his sharp teeth. He then rolls it down his thick length and throws the package away.

“So… now you can get back to begging for me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your wet folds. “Come on, doll, beg for my cock.”

You roll your eyes playfully. Maybe you could just act like you’re not interested and he would push into you to show you you need him inside of you? Or maybe you do as you’re told and beg for his cock?

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, a low groan slips past his lips and he brings the tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in slowly. “Come on, beg for my cock, sweet girl.”

“Bucky, please?” You try, whimpering as he pushes his big tip further into you. “F-fuck, please, need to feel you.”

He chuckles, moving forward, bringing his body to tower over you. You look so adorable underneath him, so small and cute, a few strands of your hair in your face. Bucky wipes them out of your face, smirking down at you before he presses his lips against yours.

The moment his soft lips move against yours he thrusts his thick dick with one smooth movement into you, causing you to gasp and bite his lips harshly. He growls, staying in place to give you a moment to adjust to his size.

“That’s what you like? Being fucked rough until you’re nothing but a whimpering and moaning mess underneath me?” He asks, rolling his hips against yours and earning a moan.

Your mouth drops open when he leans back slightly, admiring your face. You’re so perfect for him — Bucky will never let you go anymore, keeping you all for himself and protecting you from all and everything that could possibly hurt you.

After a moment and your nodding head he starts thrusting into you, soft and slow. His balls slapping against your ass and you whimper and moan by every thrust of his cock into you. His tip is kissing your cervix, over and over again — you didn’t even know this is possible since no one ever hit that spot in you before but Bucky does and it feels just so good.

Your walls clench around his pulsating length, sucking him in deeper. Bucky lets his head fall down against your shoulder, inhaling your sweet scent. An animalistic sound leaves his lips, your scent too sweet to not just slam his teeth into you and mark you as his — but he can’t, he can’t do it without your permission, without you knowing that you will be his forever.

“You smell so good,” he groans, kissing your neck. “I want to make you mine, want to claim you, babydoll.”

“Do it! Bite me, make me yours, forever, Bucky,” you whine, moving your hips against his. His breath is hot and heavy against your neck but he shakes his head. His tongue slides over your soft skin, taking in your sweet taste before he sucks at your skin, trying to get as much of you as he can without biting you.

“Can’t, doll. I can’t, you don’t know the consequences of it, I just—“ He gets interrupted when you turn your face to his neck, your fingers digging into his shoulders to hold him close. Your grin, opening your mouth to bite hard into his neck, his hips snap forward, and he moans followed by a low groan.

You giggle as he turns to face you, his eyes darkened even more, his tongue darts out and his teeth are visible. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? Darlin’ makin’ me go crazy with biting me? Don’t you know the consequences when you bite me?”

“I do know, but I want you to do it, please. Bucky, I want to be yours, forever. I know what it means if you bite me, but please. Bite me and cum, please,” you beg, fingers digging more into his muscular shoulders while his whole body tenses at your words.

“That’s what you want, doll? Are you sure?” He asks, trying his best to control himself but he doesn’t want to do something you haven’t thought about, he doesn’t want to force you into it.

You nod your head, earning a harsh slap on your tits. “Words, babydoll! I need you to answer me properly or else I won’t do it,” he says, smirking at your yelp.

“Please, I want you to do it. I need you to do it, I’m so close, please, Bucky,” you whine, moving with him while he brings you closer to the edge.

Bucky himself feels the coil in his stomach tightening as well. Your pussy is constantly squeezing his cock tightly, making it almost impossible for him to move inside of you.

He nods, inhaling deeply before sliding his tongue across his sharp teeth and being one of his hands to your chin, tilting your head. The brown haired man doesn’t wait any longer, he smirks and bites into your neck, his sharp teeth cutting your skin and causing blood to flow into his mouth.

Bucky hums at your sweet taste, better as everything he has ever tried. The moment your blood flows into his mouth and his teeth dig deeper into your neck you feel a sensation through your body that’s the most pleasing feeling ever.

You both come at the same time, his teeth still in your neck while his cock rams into you, twitching. Bucky’s balls slapping against your ass, a low groan in his throat when he comes in the condom. Your cunt is pulsating around him, when you come with him, moaning loudly and gripping his shoulders.

The vampire doesn’t let go of your neck until you’re both calmed down from your orgasms. He then lets go of it, swallowing thickly with still your taste in his tongue. Bucky licks over the part where he just bit you, causing the wound to heal immediately — the only sign that he bit and claimed you a scar where his teeth were deep in your neck.

“Now you’re mine, babydoll,” he smirks, slowly pulling out of you. His eyes are locked with yours when you look with lust and desire into his ocean blue ones. “Mine forever now, protect you from all and everything that could hurt or disturb you.”

“You know I’m gonna bite your neck just as hard as you bite mine,” you giggle, hands moving to his neck and pulling him down.

You press your lips against his, moaning when his cock slides through your folds once again — hard and leaking. A soft chuckle works its way up your throat when you feel it, reaching down to pull the condom off his cock and place his cock at your entrance once again.

Bucky looks at you with an raised eyebrow, asking for permission to be sure you want him to fuck you raw. “Please, but this time it’s on me to bite you and make you mine too!”

The night is filled with a lot more orgasm and you find pit that this man has a lot stamina to go a while night with fucking you through one after another orgasm. And just as you, he has your mark on his neck now as well, and he will show it to everyone like it’s a trophy — because for him it is, it’s to show everyone that he found the love of his life — the endless love.

You couldn’t be happier, Bucky is the sweetest and softest man you could have asked for, and spending eternity with him is the most perfect idea you could have dreamed of. And just as he promised he keeps you safe. Plus loved, like you’re the most adorable and precious thing he has ever had, the most important in his life — because you are exactly that for your sweet, loving Bucky.

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[world-of-shadows-and-music]

Male Companions Responding To Your Pregnancy Announcement

Here are some headcannons I have for the Male Companions + Zevlor responding to your's/Tav's pregnancy announcement. I have a few more ideas I want to write out for the week so we will see how that goes.

Wyll

Legit might start crying when you tell him you’re expecting.

He smiles so big and bright before scooping you up in his arms and spinning you in a circle.

He is (carefully) rubbing his face against your stomach and whispering to the little baby bump.

He will not let you do anything on your own once you have the smallest of bumps.

He understands you don’t need his help, but he will offer it no matter what.

Once you get later on in your pregnancy, he is constantly rubbing your belly and telling them stories of his adventures as the Blade of Frontiers.

Once you get close to your due date, he will not leave your side cause he doesn’t want to miss anything.

He is there to hold your hand and help you anyway he can when you go into labor. Whispering how well you’re doing and that you are almost there.

Once the baby is there and in his arms, he melts. He doesn’t want to let them go.

Seeing you holding the little baby is his favorite thing.

“Oh darling. You have done so wonderfully.” Looking down at the little child, his child, wrapped in blankets and sleeping peacefully in his arms. “You have given me everything I could ever hope for.”

Astarion

He has heightened senses due to being a vampire so he can smell something different about you long before you tell him, but he doesn’t know what it up.

He thinks you’re playing some sick joke when you first tell him you’re expecting.

He just can’t wrap his head around it at first, but you wake up to his hands on your belly and whispering softly.

He comes around to the idea of you both having a child slowly but once he does, he is making sure you have the best healers available.

He even asks Shadowheart and Halsin to check on you and make sure everything is going well.

He becomes obsessed with your belly as it gets bigger, wanting to constantly be touching you in some way.

When he feels the first kick, he is startled but you see the largest grin on his face.

“Oh, a little fighter on our hands it seems.”

When you go into labor, he is afraid but he sits behind you and lets you push against him.

He is whispering into your ear how wonderful you are doing and letting you squeeze his hand.

Once he hears the baby cry for the first time, he has an out of body experience.

He is looking over your shoulder at the little one as they are placed in your arms, with you cooing down at them.

“Lover… They look perfect.” Reaching around you and letting them grab hold of his finger with his tiny hand. “I swear, I will always be there for them.”

Gale

He stares at you for a moment with wide eyes when you tell him before breaking out in a smile and scooping you into his arms.

He will want to announce to all your companions as soon as possible. He wants to share your good news with everyone.

He starts planning everything; the nursery, what colors everything should be, what foods he is going to be cooking for you through the pregnancy, everything you can think of.

Not to mention Tara is your little shadow and you’re pretty sure that she is reporting everything back to Gale.

He checks up on you multiple times a day, asking if you need anything or if you are craving everything for him to cook.

When you are laying in bed with him, he will be reading next to you and absently rubbing your belly.

When your belly gets bigger, he will want to have his arms wrapped around you while sleep with Tara curled up next to you.

He wants to be there when you give birth, he will not hear anything against it.

When you do go into labor, he is right by your side and wiping your forehead with a wet towel.

He honestly gets in the way of the midwife with his constant questions, but they force him to sit next to you.

When the baby is finally born, he wants to be the first to hold them and cradle them in his arms.

“Oh dearest, look at them. Look at how perfect you have done.” His soft smile and a twinkle in his eyes as he looked down at the child, wanting nothing more in the world.

Halsin

Halsin knows before you do that you’re pregnant. He picks up on the nausea, the tiredness, and he can smell it on you.

He waits for you to tell him though, giving you the privacy even though he is bursting at the seams with excitement.

He is making sure you’re eating enough and getting enough rest.

You wouldn’t even need to list a single finger if you didn’t want to.

He makes sure not to be too far from you if you would ever need him.

He starts whittling little toys for the child, including a little bear for them.

When your belly gets larger and you start complaining of back pain, he will come up behind you and put his hands under your belly to help relieve the pressure with his chin resting on your shoulder.

From the moment you two lay down for the night he is constantly talking to your belly and rubbing it.

The first time he feels a kick he will grin and give the spot a soft kiss.

He makes sure to keep an eye on everything for anything that could go wrong but he is not against you having additional healers to check up on you.

When you go into labor, he wants to help the midwife with anything they need; water, towels, just about anything.

He also wants to be the one who cuts the cord and clean the baby right after they are born.

He holds them in his arms and marvels at how small they are compared to him before he hands them to you.

“My Heart, just look at them.” Halsin looking down at the child, slowly running his finger down their cheek as they sleep. “Just look at what we have made together.”

Bonus: Zevlor (because I love him and no one can stop me)

When you tell him the poor man’s heart stops for a second.

He is a stuttering mess, hands reaching for you trembling, but he pulls you into his arms and holds you close kissing you.

A million and one doubts that he will be a good father go through his head, but he doesn’t doubt for a second that you will be a good parent.

You have to reassure him and give him a lot of love.

He goes out of his way to make sure you’re taken care of during your pregnancy.

You mention you want a snack or sweet? He will come home with like 10 of them.

You will wake up to him rubbing your belly as it gets bigger.

He eyes will be full of love and wonder when he feels them kick.

When you go into labor, he just can’t stand seeing you in pain and gets kicked out by the midwife.

But the moment he hears the first cry he will burst back into the room.

When the midwife hands the baby to him for the first time, he treats them as if they are made of glass.

“Oh sweetling.” Zevlor could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he held the newborn close to his chest watching them yawn. “You have given me everything.”

[emphistic]

𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 ❦

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓. vampire!Sukuna, historical (medieval) time period, fem!Reader, implied mentions of r-pe (not by Sukuna), drinking blood, inappropriate use of an extra mouth on Sukuna's hand, cunnilingus, eventual smut [MDNI], dacryphilia, overstimulation, rimming, piv

𝐖𝐂. 10.8k (God help)

𝐀𝐍. happy spooky season, people!! ngl, i've been planning this since like september, but i'm as slow as a snail when it comes to writing. available on ao3

A sacrifice, that’s what you were.

Since your birth, you had been looked down upon with hatred, pity, and in rare circumstances, jealousy. You were born with something called . . . cursed energy? You weren’t sure. It was always a topic spoken and gossiped about between the Village Elders, but, no one ever truly explained it to you. Your mother had died during childbirth—which just gave the villagers more to hate about you—and she had cursed energy, too. So, even the idea of learning about your curse was . . . impossible.

The years of your childhood were stripped away and taken from you. Labor, labor, labor. On the weekdays you worked in the fields, harvesting crops, planting seeds. And on the weekends, or, whenever you were ordered to by your father, you tended to the sheep, shearing their wool for clothes—which you would also have to make by yourself—and feeding them.

You weren’t allowed near the cows or any livestock—as a matter of fact—that were used for anys means of consumption. People murmured in front and behind your back, saying, your hands would poison the food, and cause a catastrophic infection which had the possibility of spreading into other nearby villages and could lead to disease, or worse, death.

It was horrible. Your whole bloodline despised you, and since your mother had left you immediately after your birth, you were left in the care of your father, who wasn’t any better than those damned Village Elders. You weren’t neglected, per se, but you were exploited; so the line in between was definitely a little foggy.

So strange was the fact that being cursed simply wasn’t enough to hoard away all of the nasty men in the village. You were a misfortune to even be seen with in public, and, for some reason, laying with you was suddenly different? You had inherited your mother’s curse, eyes, and beauty. Unfortunate were you. Your father was cruel; maddened by grief and greed. He had promised to more men than he could count that he would sell you off when you came to age.

Sometimes he would price you high, sometimes he would price you low. It depended on who his customer was, and how he felt that day. Of course, greed doesn’t always equal stupidity. Your father may have been a bad man before and after your mother’s death, but he knew that he was never going to actually go through with the process of selling you off to some good-for-nothing son of a bitch.

A sacrifice, that’s what you were.

Not some pig to be auctioned and bought off the streets. Not a slave to be chained to a wall. The Village Elders had been finessing your true purpose in the village since you were conceived. You had cursed energy; there was a monster who lived on the hill; and the years had gone slowly by with the ordeal of famine.

When you turned eighteen years of age, you were to be perfumed with all kinds of fussy smells, dressed in the best garments the village had to offer, and your face was to be decorated with makeup made by grinded flower petals. Why? Because you were a sacrifice, that’s why.

They had stripped you of your dignity just moments before they strapped you to a horse which they rode to the beginning of the high, gloomy mountain which overlooked the village. They dropped you off there, and left you distressed, panting, feeling dirty and ashamed of what you had just lost prior hours before. You were not a woman, not even a human anymore; you were a sacrifice. A fucking sacrifice for the people of what was once your village, your home, your birthplace.

You were fucked, you were utterly and completely fucked. Kicked out of your village, you were scared, cold, and stranded in a forest you had never even known existed. They never let you leave the fences of the village anyways, and now that you finally took in your surroundings, you could see the trees surrounding the empty patch of pulled grass that you sat on. Without food or drink, you sat on the muddy ground for idle hours; you thought yourself close to death, and even considered digging yourself a grave, when, by mercy of some god, you had heard footsteps approaching, the sound of twigs snapping under feet.

Your first thought was that your possible savior had come. But then you remembered why you were here in the first place, and simultaneously noticed the way the birds had gone quiet, and the way not even a single cricket sounded. As a child, you had heard tales of a monster who lived at the top of a dark hill. He had teeth and fangs longer than an ordinary human’s, eyes redder than the Blood Moon, and claws that rivaled even those of a tiger. This . . . monster, this vampire, had a name. The village, surrounding villages, visiting clans from the North, they all called him the King of Curses. Lord Ryomen Sukuna.

At the sudden recollection, you frantically crawled backwards, moving on your elbows and kicking at stray rocks with your feet. The figure was still in the shadows, enveloped by fog and darkness, but you could see it. Tall, strong build, unmoving. And, by God, you swore you could see those damned, twisted looking red eyes that seemed to stare back—not at a helpless human being, but at you. You. You weren’t born yesterday, you knew vampires drank blood from humans, and didn’t come out when the sun was up, but shit, it was well past dark, the moon was encased in clouds and you couldn’t remember—not matter how hard you tried—if vampires ate humans, as well.

As you racked your brain for any strategy of possible survival, your back suddenly hit the stump of a tree behind you, and your movements ceased. You bit your lip, tasting a slight metallic taste on your tongue consequently, and your blood ran cold. This was it. You had nowhere to run, and you sure as hell weren’t going to climb a tree. You were cold, weak, your hips hurt from the assault you suffered and the blood from between your thighs soaked the fabric of your dress. 

. . .Blood!? Damn you for forgetting. This really was the end. Lost, stranded, alone with a vampire who could probably smell your fear and smell the blood on you. Was this really the end for you? It couldn’t be, right? You shuddered, just thinking about it, and mindlessly ground the balls of your feet into the dirt, leaving a mark in the desolate place. If someone came looking for you, if someone ever came looking for you, they’d notice where you had tried to escape, and where you faced your fate.

Your eyes were squeezed shut as footsteps approaching you sounded in the forest. Leaves crunching under what you assumed were heavy, waxed leather boots. There seemed to be a different, strangely soothing air about this monster. Originally, your fight-or-flight response had kicked in, but when you realized there was no escape, you halted in your movements; but now that this vampire was so close to you, you felt a little drowsy, or droopy, even. Your unmoving limbs felt like liquid, and you almost even wondered why you were scared in the first place.

Brining you out of your train of thought, you heard the figure come to a stop, just a few feet before you, and he stooped down low—almost as if in a squatting position—to examine which poor thing had stumbled into his domain whilst he was present.

“You’re dressed far too nicely to be related to that village, and your face is too painted to be a commoner,” he spoke at a leisurely pace, and his voice was more smooth, and cold, than you would assume for a beast. “A princess? No, no. The clans don’t visit until the winter, and they definitely lack any women who don’t look like descendants of pigs. Tell me, girl, who—”

“I—I’m,” you stammered, eyes snapping wide open at the mention of yourself. You feared for your life, and if his lordship wanted an introduction, an introduction he would get. “I’m just a—”

“A sacrifice, that’s what you are. I know. Before you interrupted me, I was going to ask who sent you here. Of course, you don’t need to answer that question. I already know, after all.

“Over there,” he pointed behind you, in the direction of the village, “those puny humans sent you? Oh, you poor, unfortunate soul. Ha! They get more ridiculous every year. Sending me beautiful brides as if I’ll ever help them. I am a beast, not a god. I must say, however, it is amusing how they mock me.”

Formidding, the vampire looked; like a prince, the vampire spoke.

Your eyes curiously looked up and down the monster before you. He wore clothes far nicer than any gentleman’s; his coat and dress shirt were both dark as night, his boots gleamed in the moonlight, his face more handsome than any man you had ever seen—despite not being a man himself, and his eyes. . . Oh, God. There were four of them, and they were all equally red as blood, beautiful as rubies, and sharp as daggers. Entranced you were, though you could feel your heart nearly beating out of your chest in fear. Your body quivered, and despite donning the garments of what a village chief’s daughter would wear, you felt far inferior.

Suddenly, his eyes drifted down to where the blood between your legs had soaked through your robes, and his stare turned cold, eyes narrowing.

“You are . . . injured. Are you aware of that? Or have humans become stupider than they already are? Somehow regressed, perhaps, and lost their sense of feeling pain?”

You shivered under his hard gaze, giving no answer.

“What a foolish creature you are. Have you suddenly become mute?”

“No. No, sir. Err,” you bit your lip, wondering how on earth you should respond while to someone who could end your life right then and there. “I was—The blood is from. . .” Your voice drifted off, and you fell silent.

“Hush, girl. I need not hear about how you lost a duel, or clumsily shot yourself with a bow and arrow. I see enough of that every day I indulge in little wars with your people,” he muttered, laughing to himself. “You humans are all weak, trying to challenge someone like me? — Pfft, it is a victory after I snap my fingers, I dare say. But, I must admit, your spirits are strong; that much is true.”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “Thank . . . you?”

“Huh, you seem to be surprised by everything,” Sukuna noted, standing back up to his full height. “Was that the first compliment you ever received? I feel sorry for you. Ah, never mind that. Tell me, human, do you wish for death?”

“I . . . beg your pardon?”

“It is simple. Would you prefer the gods smite you where you sit on this . . . mud, or would you rather my cook, Uraume, make you into a feast?”

“Is choosing neither an option?”

The beast laughed, “You are smarter than you look. Ha! You creatures surprise me again and again. Amuse me, girl, tell me about yourself.”

You were at a loss for words. Just what in the world were you doing? Entertaining a vampire in the middle of a desolate forest at night? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous, you thought.

“I can juggle?”

Dismissing your statement, the vampire waved his hand around in the air. “I didn’t mean that. Tell me how you can make yourself useful to me—besides being a jester, that is—and perhaps I’ll spare your life. It would be quite a shame if I had to kill you; for, you definitely make a funny human.”

“I can . . . herd sheep. You, sir, must eat mutton; am I correct? Oh! and I can produce clothes out of wool—for the winter, sir. I can assure you it will soon be growing cold.” 

“Hmm, that will do. Uraume will teach you everything you’ll need to know. Come along, girl. I will lead you to your new home, where you will take refuge until you seek revenge on your people—when that time arrives, expect my assistance, for it will be a bloodbath. What else?” The vampire seemed to look as if in a train of thought, tapping his chin with his forefinger. “Ah, yes. My name is Ryomen Sukuna, but. . . While you live in my estate, you are to acknowledge my lordship, and address me as your lord. For rightfully so, I am.”

You hesitated, but bit your tongue and nodded in the end. This was your only chance at survival. All you had to do to make it out of this forest alive and in one piece was to serve under a vampire in his abode. You thought it should be easy enough; I mean, you had been a servant your whole life; surely this wouldn’t be too different.

“Uhm, sir,” you called out, just as the vampire had begun to turn his back on you and walk towards his home, “pardon me, but, I am unable to . . . walk. My legs and thighs ache.”

The lord had turned around at the sound of his name, and looked at you with a mockingly pitiful expression. “Humans are so weak nowadays. Back when I was younger, I had fought humans who actually stood a chance. Of course, those humans are now dead, but, I must say I am surprised to see how low you creatures have stooped over the years.”

As he spoke, the beast had picked you up with ease, hooked one arm under your knees, and wrapped the other around your back. You squeaked out of surprise; the motion had happened so fast that you felt like a mere sack of potatoes. As if on instinct—and from fear of falling, though you knew the beast was strong—you wrapped your arms around his neck, and pressed your body closer to his chest.

“Is my strength surprising to you? I can’t say I’m offended, however; the men in your village must not be very burly. Ha! so it really is true, after all; none of you insolent beings hold even a candle to me on the battlefield.”

Now that you two were so close, you could probably infer that your heartbeat was audible and noticeable to the vampire who held you. You just hoped he wouldn’t realize that your body was pumping twice as much blood as usual, and suddenly get the urge to eat you.

As you walked, you could hear the crunch, crunch, crunch of leaves and twigs snapping under the vampire’s heavy boots. You looked around a bit, noticing the trees and bushes swaying in the wind of the night, the occasional burping of frogs, squeaks of mice scurrying around, flies flapping their wings. The whole environment was much more serene than you had imagined it would be, and you noted that it only returned that way after it became obvious that Lord Sukuna was not in the mood for killing. Perhaps even the critters here fear the beast, you thought.

The sky had turned a dark shade of indigo; it was a full moon, and the clouds were few in number. This season of the year had fewer bright stars than any of the others, but you could’ve sworn you were able to make out the constellation displaying Princess Cassiopeia strapped to a chair.

Earlier, you had been sweating out of fear, distress, maybe even both, but now, as the breeze swept against your body, and the wind blew your hair out of its previously fixed updo, a shiver ran up your spine, and you tightened your arms around his lordship’s neck.

You noticed something in the distance, and decided it was better to raise the question now, than later, where you would probably be a bother. “I’ve heard—” You paused, realizing it was probably better to rephrase your sentence. “Are there monsters . . . that live here, my lord?”

Sukuna’s lower set of eyes fixed upon your figure. “What, don’t tell me you are scared, woman. Dying whilst living on my estate is simply out of the question. You’re not under the protection of that scummy village you called home; you’re under my protection, now.”

“I. . . I can see glowing eyes peering back at me from beyond the bushes and the shadows,” you pressed. “There are monsters here, aren’t there—?”

“Only goblins and other small nuisances. I can assure you, I am the only beast in this forest that you should rightfully fear.”

That last comment wasn’t as assuring as Sukuna had made it seemed; in fact, for the half hour that you both spent walking back to the estate, you remained silent, questioning whether what you were doing was really the best choice. But, after every paradox you came across, it always ended with the same conclusion—that you had absolutely no choice. You were neither equipped for nor capable of fighting a vampire—whose strength and speed outmatched that of an average human’s.

And so you sat, in Sukuna’s arms, as he carried you through the almost endless forest, across leagues of mud and tall grass, all the way . . . to his estate—where you arrived tired and eyes drooping, after your long day.

Sukuna had stopped in his tracks upon entering the manor; he stood near the front door, as a servant—which you assumed was the Uraume Sukuna had previously mentioned—attended to him immediately after his return. You felt so drowsy, so sleepy, that you could barely make out the words spoken.

“My lord, you have returned from your hunt,” the white-haired servant bowed, “and I presume you have also returned with a consort. Shall I draw a bath for her ladyship, as well?”

You had fallen asleep halfway through your bath. Uraume—whom you had briefly learned was Lord Sukuna’s most trusted subordinate—had drawn you a warm bath, washed away the leftover blood on your body, and dressed you in garments fit for a queen. Never in your life had you been pampered so gingerly, that, you had managed to drift off to Dreamland throughout the course of it. You were then carried to a guest bedroom, where you fell in the arms of Morpheus.

Throughout the night, your dreams were unnecessarily long, dragged out, and so realistic that you woke up several times in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panting, and frantic. You saw it. You saw them all. The villagers, the Elders, your father. They probably thought you were dead by this hour, but they were naught but greedy fools. They dragged you to the forest to give your life away as a sacrifice. But you weren’t dead, no; you had been taken in by a generous stranger—the beast whom you were to be sacrificed to.

Had you not been woken up by Uraume in the morning, you would have probably slept until noon the next day.

“I apologize for waking you so abruptly, my lady; you must be tired from yesterday. But his lordship has requested that I show you around the estate—for it is inimitable in size, and a lord’s consort getting lost on his own grounds is indubitably unacceptable.”

You blinked. “O-Oh! That’s . . . alright; I think it shall be a nice activity to explore this grand manor. But—pardon my intrusion on asking—why do you refer to me as a consort?”

Uraume gave a small smile. “Is it not proper to simply address my lord’s wife by her title?”

Your lips parted in surprise, and you rambled on in embarrassment. “I think you are mistaken; I am not Lord Sukuna’s wife, or anything of that sort. I am simply his. . . I am here to make myself useful to him. For, he saved my life, and I am inevitably indebted to him. I owe him my life, and there’s not a chance I’ll be able to go back to my village soon. Being a servant here is not an idea I am opposed to, might I add.”

“Forgive me,” Uraume bowed, an expression of surprise on their face. “I was under the impression that you were both married, given the fact he walked in with you in his arms—a generous act that I’ve never witnessed before.”

“. . .Lord Sukuna has not a wife, I assume, then?” You tilted your head to the side.

“As far as I know, no. There aren’t many women here, either. Most servants, chefs, gardeners, are men. — Merely by coincidence, en passant.”

“Ah,” you hummed, “I see.”

Uraume gestured to the neatly folded pile of clothes in their arms. “I have prepared a change of attire for you, and once you have dressed, I shall ready you further, before we take a tour around the abode.”

True to their word, Uraume had prepared you for a long day ahead, and again, you were dressed so luxuriously that even you began to wonder if you were merely a servant to his lordship. In addition, Uraume had related to you your lack of title. You were more than a servant, but less than a wife. In the end, Uraume had concluded that you were to still be referred to as a lady—despite having no relations to royalty—because Lord Sukuna seemed to have no problem with you being addressed that way last night.

“This way, my lady.” Uraume led you out of your bedroom, and down a hallway. “This is the left wing of the manor, where the guest bedrooms, servant bedrooms, and servant corridors are.”

As Uraume droned on and on about your current location, you couldn’t help but notice the beautiful architecture of the estate. 

The walls were high, as so were the windows—which let sunlight seep through the overall dark palace. The doors had been constructed by magnificent carpenters, and were gilded and decorated with precise carvings. Likewise, they were also tall, and reached high above your head; despite the servants and other residents of the estate (except for his lordship) being of average height.

When you entered the right wing of the manor, you instantly noticed the increase of fussy, overornate, and unsurprisingly expensive furniture. Paintings of battle scenes, scenery, properties, and portraits of people you didn’t recognize, nearly covered the walls from head to toe. In empty spaces stood statues and sculptures of heavily embellished gods, warriors, horses, and other creatures.

Occasionally, you and Uraume would enter and explore the libraries which appeared in intervals throughout each hallway you walked. Enormous bookshelves lined the walls, and were filled with books about magic, potions, curses, taming beasts, and other subjects you were not entirely familiar with. There were ladders to reach the top of bookshelves, and there were spiraling stairs to the upper floor of the library—designed as a kind of reading space.

Tucked in corners of some rooms were grand pianos, which seemed to play music even when no one was sitting on the benches and tapping at the keys. Then again, this was the abode of a notorious vampire; ghosts playing the piano are far from the most unconventional thing to be found here, if you really thought about it.

“My lady,” Uraume began, turning to face you once you both had exited one of the libraries, “would you like to talk a walk in the gardens? This time of year, most nature does not grow—as it is Fall. But all of the plants, trees, flowers, and shrubbery located in this estate do. They are grown by magic of the trusted gardeners—who also reside in the left wing.”

The bushes and plants in the garden were all exactly how you had imagined them. Lacking a variety of color, the most you were able to spot in the gardens was black, grey, white, and occasionally, red. The color scheme fit Lord Sukuna to a T, and you wondered if that was the doing of the gardeners, or of the lord’s orders. As you walked between rows of flowers and shrubbery—conversing with Uraume—you noticed a seemingly endless amount of servants jogging to and fro around the whole estate. A few of them noticed you—an unfamiliar woman on the property of his lordship—and gave you neutral expressions, in fear of your unknown rank.

You bit your lip, wondering if they, too, were also spared by Lord Sukuna, and taken in as servants.

“Forgive my rudeness for asking; but how does his lordship afford all of these . . . luxuries? I can not even estimate how much this would all cost.” You asked.

“Ah, right,” began Uraume. “Through his victories, of course. He wins gold, treasure, weapons—which he occasionally trades for even more profit, slaves and servants, et cetera. His wealth is not from his birth; Lord Sukuna has obtained everything he now owns by his own hands. I have incredibly deep reverence for all his feats.”

You nodded, humming in agreement.

When your tour was finished, Uraume had explained to you what your role was to be whilst you stayed at the manor of his lordship. You were of higher rank than ordinary servants, allowed more free rein of the estate, and you ate at the same table as Uraume and Lord Sukuna. 

Throughout your years at the estate, you served as a sort of maid, seldom a chef, and occasionally a gardener. His lordship called for you whenever he pleased, and you would obey whatever his command was.

Of course, before all of this happened, you had to undergo much training. Uraume was a sort of teacher to you; they taught you how to prepare the meat and vegetables in his lordship’s meals before cooking, explained how the abode was supposed to be cleaned and organized, and gave lessons on which plants needed to be tended to, and how. You both had a mentor and mentee dynamic that, over the years, gradually progressed into a friendship, or something of the like.

You understood Uraume more than others—seeing as you two were both closer to Lord Sukuna than the other subordinates—and you respected them as much as you did his lordship. Uraume had taken a liking to you, because of how good of a listener you were whenever they explained a new task to you. Sometimes, whilst waiting for the food to be finished, Uraume would tell you stories from long ago—about Lord Sukuna’s youth—and you would listen, with great attentiveness.

You were unfamiliar with most of the staff on the property, and you were more close with Uraume than the other maids you occasionally encountered. It came with no surprise, however, that most of the other servants looked at you with a negative eye. Lord Sukuna happened to treat you with more kindness than he would the average staff member, and that consequently led to sparks of jealousy throughout the servants corridors. You weren’t bothered, though; you had been looked down upon since birth.

Sometimes, his lordship requested you bathe him—which, at first, you thought was incredibly scandalous for an unmarried woman to touch another man in that way, but Lord Sukuna had corrected you, explaining your job as merely washing his hair and preparing the warm or cold bath water. For, Sukuna had found that he rather enjoyed the feeling of your nimble fingers carding through his hair, and, that very task was what you were doing now. Or, well, what you were on your way to do.

Whilst carrying a bucket of hot water, you had been stopped by a passing servant. He was a man, of average height, messy hair with loose bangs hanging over his forehead, and carried a broom in his callused, experienced hands. He was sweating—from a long day of work, you assumed—and was nervous in approaching you at first. But once he spoke, the words just seemed to pour out like water; smooth, gradual, and natural.

“Pardon me, miss, I have not seen you on these grounds before today. Might I have your name?” He reached out a hand expectantly, and looked at you with deep interest.

You placed your wooden bucket sloshing with water on the floor, and gave your name. Consequently, you slipped your hand onto his, and the male servant raised your hand to his lips, kissing the back of your palm in simple greeting, or so you thought. . .

Previously, you had expected the man to let you be on your way after that, but no. He had stuck you there in conversation for about five more minutes, asking how you knew his lordship, your origin, how you came to work at the estate, and overall, made small talk that you really weren’t that interested in.

You had tried to excuse yourself several times, saying, “His lordship is awaiting my presence.”

But the man merely waved you off each time. 

“Lord Sukuna would certainly understand my need for taking a break in order to converse with a beautiful lady like you. You may have noticed over the years that the maids here are. . . I am not entirely sure how to put this—They are lacking in good features. It’s unfortunate, really, to be a product of such terrible breeding, but I must say, you are divine. A goddess incarnate, if I’d ever seen one.”

Heat had risen to your neck at the compliment, and you—humbly—were in the middle of accepting it, when, you had felt a shadow towering over you that definitely wasn’t there before.

About to turn around, your movements were halted by the sound of a deep voice, belonging to someone that clearly seemed irritated.

“What on earth is taking so long? Last I checked, bringing water to the bathing quarters does not take nearly half an hour.”

Lord Sukuna! you gasped.

You turned to face his lordship, and then turned back around to face the male servant, but to your confusion, he had already gone.

Turning back to Sukuna, you immediately took a deep bow, and recited multiple sincere apologies. “Please, forgive me, my lord. I was simply engaging in conversation with—”

“—With some nobody,” he finished your sentence for you with a scowl. “Yes, I see, now. You have abandoned your duties, and, instead, taken up a pastime in listening to a man ramble nonsense.”

His lordship crossed his arms over his chest, and scanned your face for any hint of fear, but he found none—which left him dumbfounded. You weren’t afraid, no, you were merely guilty of insubordination. Sukuna mentally took a note of that, evidently interested in you even more at his new reading.

“I was distracted, sir. But I understand my wrongdoing and take full accountability for getting caught up in conversation while on my way to your private quarters.”

For a second, you thought you had heard a snort from his lordship, but you soon dismissed that idea after realizing the absurdity of it.

“Acquitted.”

At this, you raised your head, did a once-over on his lordship’s features—curious as to how sincere he was in pardoning you—and retrieved your bucket. “You . . . appear paler than usual, my lord. Are you feeling unwell, by any chance?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, waving you off. “Nonsense.”

Due to Sukuna’s reassuring comment, your observation was soon discarded, but whilst you were washing his lordship’s hair, your concerns had been revived by a prominent sound echoing throughout the bathing quarters. Several coughs, that came in intervals, before concluding.

“My lord,” you began, “am I mistaken in having heard you cough?”

“Of course.”

You let out a soft laugh, believing not even a word of that. “I will be sure to bring incense into your chambers tonight.”

His lordship waved around his hand mindlessly. “Do as you want; however, trust that I am expecting more woolen coats.”

So he was holding that above your head, you noted.

Over the next few days, his lordship’s condition had seemed to worsen. He appeared sickly whenever you passed him in hallways, pushed away meals he often enjoyed, and coughed more often than not. At first, you thought it was a mere cold—seeing as the weather was progressing into winter times. In contrast, Lord Sukuna had started to pale, and his temperature had risen; but, despite the seemingly obvious symptoms, his illness was far from a fever.

It was pointless looking for possible medications; his lordship absolutely despised welcoming the apothecary onto his estate. And so you took matters into your own hands. You had attempted to change the bathing water. Sometimes cold, sometimes scalding. It was all in the name of seeing what would increase his lordship’s health, but all was in vain. Uraume had informed you that Lord Sukuna rarely felt cold or hot; the seasons were all the same for him. So the temperature and the climate are not the catalysts for this illness, you thought.

It just . . . didn’t make sense. His lordship was never affected by weather, and rarely got sick from reasons similar to a human. . . What on earth could this illness be?

“Uraume,” you began, whilst scrubbing bloodied garments on the washboard, “what do you suppose it is?”

“What is it that I am supposing, my lady?”

“His lordship’s illness. I am racking my brain for possible explanations, and I have found none. He is a vampire, a beast; a human such as I am simply not capable of understanding what his condition could be.”

Uraume shook their head, pausing in the middle of their work. “It is not a simple illness, you are correct. But I am not in the place to tell exactly what it is.”

You bit your lip. “How do you mean?”

“Ask his lordship.”

And so you did.

It was a fine evening; the night was young, the air was crisp, and smelled of the incense you spoke of bringing to his lordship’s chambers. You had requested to pay him a visit, and apparently, you were only able to do so late in the night, after most servants had gone to their respective corridors, and the invisible pianists had ceased their playing.

“You asked to see me.” Sukuna crossed his arms over his chest, standing face-to-face with you in the middle of his fussily furnished bedroom. “Speak.”

“My lord, what is it that you are sick with, exactly? You have yet to tell me; and there is no way I can be of assistance if you continue to leave me in the dark about your condition.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Not once have I ordered you to be of assistance regarding my—” Cough. “—state. You waste your time worrying about me, woman.”

“Pardon my insubordination. But if simply caring for my lord is so inutile,” you pressed, putting a hand on your chest as you spoke, “then I shall spend the rest of my years wasting my time.”

Sukuna laughed, leaning down to your level. “You are just so stubborn, aren’t you? Very well. I shall tell you; it is . . . pretty simple, I dare say. It is a mystery how you are so interested in the fact that I am a vampire that has fallen ill—in need of . . . blood. Is my dear strong-willed lady satisfied now?”

You blinked, shaking your head.

“My lord, if you are only in need of blood . . . shall I get a sheep for you to slaughter?” you proposed.

“No. It is not that simple. Blood is what I crave, but cursed energy is what I need.”

Your ears pricked up at the sound of that. Cursed energy. Maybe this was your chance to make yourself useful. You still weren’t entirely sure of what cursed energy was, but you knew it was something that you had, yourself. What a coincidence, you thought.

“So then, how do you usually get this . . . cursed energy?”

“I kill sorcerers.”

You did recall hearing some . . . stories from the drunkards who sat in front of taverns they were kicked out of. Due to their “clear” state of mind, you never paid much attention to them, nor did you care, to be frank. But, you could’ve sworn you heard a tale about a sorcerer with hair white as snow, and eyes blue as the sea, who attempted to take down the formidable King of Curses. You never stuck around the drunkards long enough to hear his fate, and how the story ended, but it was probably best that way.

“So, why don’t you just do that?”

“I have vowed not to lay a single hand on a sorcerer since you came along.”

“And, why’s that?”

“Because they are your kin, woman.”

You knew not what that meant. Kin? You were not a sorcerer; you were human. A sacrifice turned servant. Cooking, gardening, cleaning. Those were your strong suits. But sorcery? Surely his lordship must be joking.

“. . .Pardon?”

Sukuna looked like he was uninterested in indulging your little interview any longer, and hurried to kick you out of his chambers. “This conversation is over. You are dismissed.”

“But, my word! you are still ill, how are you to go on without—?”

“Worry not, human; I am ancient, and I am strong. Surely I can make do for at least a few days more.”

A few days more had passed, and your concern had only seemed to grow. Until, one windy day, you had come up with an idea in the middle of collecting berries. Storming into his lordship’s office was not a common venture for you, but today’s occasion seemed appropriate enough.

“My lord, would you spare some time?”

Sukuna looked up from a pile of letters he had been previously staring at, and gave you an unamused look, almost as if he wasn’t vexed by your interruption. “What is it?”

“I’ve thought of an idea.”

“Elaborate.”

“It is a long story, one I am not very keen on reminiscing about,” you mumbled, fidgeting with your straw-woven basket, “but I was . . . born with cursed energy. And if my memory serves me right, that is just the very thing you need.”

“Are you insinuating I drink your blood?”

“Forgive me; I wouldn’t know if that’s how you wanted to go about this. Are you to perform a ritual on me? A blood oath, perhaps? Excuse my imprudence, my lord, for I am simply not knowledgeable enough in those areas as I would wish to be.” You gave a slight bow.

“Ha! You must be more ill than me to even suggest something like that. I am the great Lord Ryomen. Sukuna the Sinister. King of Curses, girl. Just who do you take me for? I am not Satan.”

“Forgive my insubordination towards your lordship, but,” you casted your eyes downward, hiding a small smile, “some might disagree with that. . .”

“Is that any way to speak to your lord?”

“Pardon me,” you smiled, “I was only joking.”

Sukuna hummed, agreeing. “Of course.”

That was the last conversation you had for the night before you returned to your bedroom.

You had spent the next morning cleaning around the estate, dusting, and replacing water in vases. Whilst in the middle of dusting a mantle, you felt a shadow grow behind you, and, already familiar with the formidable presence, you turned around to come face-to-face with none other than his lordship. Beads of sweat were accumulating on his forehead, his hair was a mess, and his eyes seemed distant and frantic in darting around the room. 

You had never seen his lordship in such an incomposed state, and immediately set down your ostrich feather duster on the table beside you.

“How are you holding up?”

“Terribly. This is . . . unbearable. I. . . I must. . .” His lordship’s eyes narrowed, and seemed to fog up as he got closer and closer to you. He seemed to be in a state of delirium—completely unable to control himself—as he backed you up against the wall, planting two hands beside your head.

“What—What are you doing?”

His lordship’s breath fanned against your skin, as he leaned his face down near your neck, just a breath away from his lips making contact with your clavicle. You squirmed to make an exit from the predicament you found yourself in, but your figure was trapped between the wall and his lordship, unable to leave. 

“. . .Holding back.”

“‘Holding back’?” you repeated. “My lord, pray tell—”

“Fuck,” he grunted. “This would be much easier if I had a less keen sense of smell.”

“Are you—Do you need the blood now?” You blinked, nervously fidgeting with the ties of your corset.

“. . .Another time,” he sighed, abruptly moving back and away from your shaking figure. “My level of restraint is stronger than I had imagined, but it has grown weaker since you turned up.”

With that, he had simply turned his back on you, and walked down another hallway, leaving you flustered, bewildered, and burning hot. You brought a shaking hand up to feel your cheek, and you were warm to the touch. What on earth just happened? you wondered, clutching at your chest in dismay.

Another week had slowly gone by, and his lordship’s condition had yet to subside. Other servants had started to also notice his signs of fatigue and illness, and multiple attempts to help were made, but all were fruitless in the end. Lord Sukuna had made it evident that he wanted no help, and it soon became crystal clear that he was avoiding you lest your nagging.

Disappointment often made its way onto your face whilst you worked; for, you just couldn’t seem to get the thought of his lordship out of your head. He needed help; you could help; but he wouldn’t let you. Why was that? you pondered.

After spending most of your free time in the gardens of the property, you had discovered the secret abundance of cats and kittens that often snuck onto the grounds and played in the grass and shrubbery. Once, you had asked his lordship about it, and whether he would allow that to go on for any longer, but he waved you off. This led to you believing he wanted the animals there—not like you were complaining.

They were cute and cuddly, and came in a variety of breeds, patterns, colors, and sizes. Some were small—just able to fit in your palm. Whilst some were larger—capable of rolling around in your lap. You often sat down and played with them until their eyes grew droopy, and you scurried off to the kitchens in order to fetch them bowls of milk and plates of food.

It was a full moon, on a cold night in the tenth month of the year. Just like always, you had sat down on a wooden bench in the garden’s gazebo, and were playing with the little kittens in your lap and rubbing their little full bellies after mealtime.

“Bless me,” you began, whispering to the little critters, “I might just have to steal one of you for myself. You are just too adorable for your own good, huh?”

You booped a kitten on the nose, and it meowed in response—arching its back. But only seconds later, all of the animals on your lap had perked their ears up, and hurriedly scampered away at the sound of leaves and twigs snapping under approaching footsteps.

“Talking about me?” a familiar, raspy voice joked.

Your head raised, and your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his lordship. “O-Oh! My lord, I—I was not expecting to see you tonight.”

“Neither was I. But I am—” Cough. “—perhaps more ill than before.”

Sukuna had taken a seat beside you on the bench; you both were so close that your shoulders were touching, and you instantly grew tense as Sukuna drew even closer—resting an arm on your hip.

“What, do you need me to tie you down, woman?” Sukuna leaned closer to your face, an unamused expression on his features; his eyes more red than usual. Was it a trick of the moon? “Is that what it will take for you to stop squirming like a worm all the time?”

“It’s just—I am ticklish, sir.”

“I can assure you, you won’t be laughing any time soon.”

“What do you—nngh.”

You were not at all prepared for Sukuna to bite down on your neck with such unimaginable force, and an embarrassingly loud whimper left your lips.

As you felt his fangs—all sharp and long—sink down beneath and break your skin, you gripped and clawed at the wooden bench. Sukuna sucked at your neck, warm blood trickling down your neck, and it felt so . . . scandalous, so erotic, and so dreadfully painful. In the middle of the garden, in the middle of the night; under the gaze of the moon, and light of the stars; you two were alone, and yet, you felt so surrounded.

With another hand on your hip, Sukuna held your head in his hand; and your head lolled around in his grasps. You felt as if in a trance, and your hands scratched at the wood beneath you, gripped onto his lordship’s bicep, all in a feverish attempt to run away from the assault, but you couldn’t escape, no matter how hard you tried. You knew what you were getting into the moment you offered yourself up, but God, did it hurt like a bitch as Sukuna sucked at the wound, drawing out as much blood as possible.

Mindlessly, a sigh left your lips, and your eyes squeezed shut in a selcouth sense of bliss.

It took you a moment’s time before it fully set in that his lordship was drinking your blood. Hell, he was drinking your blood and it hurt, but it felt so . . . good. 

Was this but a dream?

The hairs on the nape of your neck rose; your skin felt tingly and warm to the touch. It was like a fire had been lit inside of you, and his lordship biting and sucking at your neck was just adding fuel to the flame. You had never experienced something like this before; it was so, so intimate. Should you even be doing this?

Your back arched, and you felt like a lifeless doll in his lordship’s grasps as he frequently let out small, sensuous sighs and groans at tasting heaven after having restrained himself for so long.

It was only minutes later that the beast finally released his fangs from your neck, and gingerly set you down on the bench—seeing as you had seemingly fallen too weak to even hold yourself up.

Through teary eyes, you could make out the sight of Sukuna before you—traces of your blood around his mouth, eyes dark with an insatiable lust for blood, and his jaw clenched.

“Feeling regretful?” he joked, swiping at the leftover blood on his lips with his thumb, and licking the liquid clean off. “Don’t worry, I certainly am not.”

It was afternoon the next day when you awoke in the comfort of your bedroom after having passed out the night before. Your head pounded, clothes were wrinkled, and . . . oh, God. You had totally forgotten about everything. Almost as instantly as it clicked in your head, your hand quickly shot up to feel the skin around your neck. But, to your surprise, there was no sign of bruising or any bloody wounds. The only marks left behind that told you what happened the night prior wasn’t a dream were two small holes, from indentations of fangs.

Your mind ran at 150MPH, and your heartbeat quickened. Were you now going to turn into a vampire? Were you, too, also destined to spend the rest of your life immortal? What on earth was this going to mean for you?

Though you were still dazed, you made quick work of putting on the change of clothes left by the foot of your bed by—you assumed it was—Uraume. And, just because you were possibly going to turn into a bloodthirsty vampire didn’t mean you had the day off, so you brushed your hair, splashed ice water from a basin onto your face, and set off to start the day, or, more like, the afternoon.

Like always, you sweeped the hallways, dusted off statues and sculptures, set out bowls of milk for the stray animals outside, and conversed with Uraume every so often.

You were in the middle of heading to the kitchen, when you passed by Lord Sukuna in the hallways en route. He looked well, different from how he was when he was ill—more alive, lack of fatigue in his eyes. But, besides looking more healthy, his eyes looked darker than before, his frown was more prominent than ever, and his features just . . . seemed so sharp. Now, you knew his lordship was an attractive beast, but, today? You found yourself thinking scandalous thoughts.

“My lord,” you murmured, bowing at the waist, “is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not at the moment, no.” 

His voice was velvety as he spoke; every word he said made you feel a strange throbbing sensation between your legs, and you found yourself frequently squeezing your thighs together. There seemed to be an unfamiliar sense of warmth at your core, and you could practically feel the heat rising to your neck. Flustered, you brought a hand to touch your cheek, and you instantly noticed how much you were burning up.

“Okay, then. I—I’ll be going . . . now. Good day,” you said, hurrying away before Sukuna could hear the thumping of your heartbeat increase in volume.

“You creatures are so strange,” Sukuna clicked his tongue, before walking away, as well.

As if it were fate, that was not the last of his lordship you saw that day. You had run into Sukuna at least five more times, which, despite living in the same estate, was not a normal occurrence, since his lordship frequently kept to himself, locked in his office or chambers.

Most of the times you ran into him, you made small talk, before scurrying away after feeling extremely nervous. It wasn’t like you at all; if anything, you and Uraume were the only ones capable of holding a conversation with the lord of the manor. But today just . . . it was off, you were off, your body felt off—you had no explanation for it.

Every time you saw Lord Sukuna, your heart thumped at extreme velocities, and your face flushed, heat rising through your body. It was hard to form proper sentences, and after adjourning your conversations, you found yourself continuing your work clumsily and with incredibly less expertise than before. Uraume noticed it, too. They frequently had to correct you on the way you swept the floors, and had to snap their fingers more often than not in front of your face a few times to bring you back to reality. God, what on earth was the matter with you?

You had used the rest of your evening to try to calm down, but honestly, your attempts were completely fruitless. It was late—a little bit after supper, when you were called on by a right-hand man to pay a visit to his lordship’s chambers. Of course, you couldn’t deny those orders, although you were a little hesitant on obeying.

As you walked through the corridors, and down the abundance of stairs, you counted every breath you took, and tried to slow down the rapid beating of your heart. Your hands gripped the fabric of your skirt with a white-knuckled grip, and you fidgeted with the lace on the edges. It helped that no one was outside of their respective quarters, so that you wouldn’t have to worry about coming across someone who could possibly stress you out even more than you already were.

You had no idea what his lordship could possibly want at so late a time in the evening, and your mind ran through every possibility. Were you getting kicked out? Or, fired? Were you being sent back to your village? No, no, that couldn’t be, you thought. His lordship was a formidable opponent to have, but he certainly wasn’t cruel to those innocent to his wrath. . . Right?

Once you arrived at his lordship’s chambers, staring hesitantly at the grand, ebony-finished doors before you, you were just about to raise your hand to give three consecutive knocks, when a commanding voice—beyond the door—called out to you, seemingly having noticed the presence of your being even before you made any announcement.

“Don’t tarry like a fool. I’m sure my lady knows better than to act like that. Come forth.”

The doors opened, with magic? ghosts? invisible entities? You knew not, but you refrained from any further questioning. The doors shut closed immediately after you stepped foot into the large bedroom, and you moved closer inside—fearful of being hit by the doors. And there, before you—in all his glory, dressed in robes darker than the night—was his lordship, lounging on a luxurious sofa, sipping an ornately designed silver goblet full of red liquid that you hoped was just wine.

“Good evening, my lord,” you said, leaning into a deep bow. “Is something of the matter?”

Sukuna stood up, set his goblet aside, and stalked towards you until the both of you stood toe-to-toe, and your faces were merely centimeters apart. “You want something,” he stated, completely sure of himself. “Spit it out.”

“. . .If I’m not mistaken, you were the one who called me here. If that is so, then, what—what on earth are you talking about, my lord?”

“Don’t be silly; you’ve been walking around all day as tense as a rock, and fidgety as a newborn about to burst into tears. Being shy will get you absolutely nowhere, for, I can smell your arousal dripping off of you.”

“P-Pardon?” Just as you were about to ask what he exactly meant by that, his lordship shoved his hand up your skirt so quickly that you didn’t even see the extra mouth—with its tongue sticking out—form on his hand. “Oh—Ohh.”

Having never been this close with another man before, you covered your mouth in embarrassment to contain the moans and whimpers that slipped out. Your knees soon grew weak, and your weight became unsteady on your own two legs. Clearly desperate for any sense of leverage, your figure fell onto his lordship’s, and you greedily gripped at his biceps for stability as you felt the tongue on his hand prod at your folds before diving right into your growing wetness.

Sukuna acceptedly held you in his arms, with a jeering smile on his face. “Not so bad, huh? All this time you could’ve just told me how much of a whore you were for your lord, but no, you had to go around the estate practically dripping for your master instead.”

“Nnghh, my lord! You. . . Hahh,” your voice trailed off as you gave in to the unfamiliar, strange pleasure you were receiving. This was all so . . . new, to you. The hand-mouth between your legs dipped into depths you didn’t know existed, sucked at areas deep within you, and had you seeing stars as the tongue curled and moved at an alarming speed.

Wasn’t this what a husband and wife did? you wondered. Though, you weren’t exactly complaining, per se. Everything felt so . . . good; from his lordship’s whispering of sweet nothings and degradations in your ear, the cool touch of his other hand tracing circles and other various shapes on the revealed part of your shoulders, all the way to the throbbing between your legs finally being relieved.

A coil formed in your stomach, and you felt a warm, hazy feeling inside. Your face twisted into an expression of extreme pleasure, and you couldn’t suppress the embarrassingly pornographic-sounding moans—which you worried other servants could hear through the walls—that slipped past your kiss-bitten lips.

“My lady tastes even sweeter than her own blood,” Sukuna laughed. “And here I was, thinking such a thing was impossible.”

You couldn’t respond; then again, how could you? Your face was pressed into his lordship’s bare chest, and your hands gripped his robe-covered shoulders—certainly leaving crescent-shaped marks in your way. The pleasure you were receiving was so different than anything you had ever felt before; it seemed otherworldly, almost, and your mouth remained slightly ajar in the feeling of ecstasy.

Subconsciously, you pressed your legs together, trapping the hand-mouth between your thighs—which, mind you, never stopped in its movements even once. It brought you over the edge, and back up again, repeatedly.

The knot in your stomach tightened to impossible lengths, and you squeezed your eyes shut in bliss as you felt yourself release onto his lordship’s hand—right before the hand-mouth licked up everything you had to offer, and more. You were dripping down Sukuna’s hand an incredulous amount, and it made heat rise to your cheeks at realizing how much you were enjoying this.

You were still riding out your high, when, out of the blue, Sukuna leaned down to your neck, and placed a kiss so gingerly onto your shoulder—in the precise spot of where he bit you the night before—that you even wondered if this was the same man you called the King of Curses. It seemed his lordship had taken a liking to interrupting you, since, before you could even get another word out, Sukuna had bitten your shoulder once more, and sucked on the blood dripping down your clavicle as you whimpered and mewled obscenely.

Was this man never satisfied?

The first time his lordship drank your blood, it felt like you were in a trance, but this time, it felt unbelievably good, and your eyes rolled back inside your head in the feeling of euphoria. Moments later, Sukuna pulled back with a shit-eating grin on his face, and blood dripping down his chin.

The both of you stumbled back towards the sofa in tandem, and you found yourself straddling Sukuna’s legs with your hands planted on his shoulders as he laid back against the cushions of the sofa, a smug look on his face.

With inhuman speed, you felt his lordship grip onto your hips as he raised them up before slamming you back down, entering you in one move. Due to it being your first time, your previous release was just enough to act as a lubricant—seeing as his lordship’s size was far from small. You covered your mouth—stifling a scream, as your walls molded to accommodate the immense girth and length of his lordship.

It was all like nothing you had felt before, and you felt so utterly and impossibly full. Losing balance, you fell onto Sukuna, causing the two of you to be flush against one another, your already pushed up tits—courtesy of your corset—pressed against his lordship’s bare chest, and you writhed at the friction.

Noticing your mouth open in an ‘o’ shape, Sukuna let out a cold laugh. “What, don’t tell me vampire cock is going to be your first. What an honor that would be, my fair lady.”

Your only response was a bunch of garbled words and gibberish that didn’t make sense. The tears that ran down your face went unnoticed by you—who was too busy trying to not pass out due to overwhelming bliss.

“Crying? How adorable.”

Although his lordship was not moving at all, you still felt immense pleasure in the mere feeling of his cock buried deep inside your cunt to the hilt. Despite yourself, you subconsciously rolled your hips, and grinded against Sukuna’s crotch, hoping, praying, begging for more movement, or anything, at least. Everything felt too good to end as nothing at all.

As you sensuously rolled your hips, Sukuna grunted, hands flying to grip the fat of your ass. It hurt like a bitch, if you had to be honest. Really hurt. Claws-dug-in-your-skin level of hurt, to be more precise. You let out a whimper as you felt teeth from his hand-mouth bite into the plush skin of your ass cheek, and you just knew it would leave a bruise and prominent mark the next morning. Oh, what an absolute hell it would be to have to sit the next day.

This was so. . . You couldn’t even say the word ‘scandalous’ because this was practically far beyond that. Not once did you ever imagine you would be giving your first to the man you worked for, much less, a vampire.

Just as you were about to be pushed past your limits merely by being stuffed full by cock, you felt the tongue of his lordship’s hand-mouth slither towards your ass, and dance around your back entrance before finally dipping in.

Immediately, a gasp left your lips at the dirty, dirty act, and you mewled—gripping the fronts of Sukuna’s robes—as the average human-sized tongue entered equally as deep as the dick in your cunt. It felt so large, so wet, and so . . . fuck. This was absolutely insane. You were completely full in both holes; the thin fabric of your skirt was soaked; and tears rolled down your cheeks as you gasped for air; but what took you to your final breaking point was the feeling of a rough, abrupt thrust upwards that you swore you could feel in your womb.

“S’kuna—S’kuna—Sukunnghh! Too much—too much; oh, my—mmph! My lord, I . . . ahh.”

You saw stars as you came—his lordship following soon after, filling you up to the brink with his seed—and a plethora of stuttering and repeated moans of his lordship’s name exited your mouth like a prayer. 

“Yeahh, just like that. You got it, sweetheart. You got it,” groaned Sukuna, as he used two fingers to stuff the cum that oozed out right back into your cunt. 

He was utterly obsessed with the idea of being the first man—no, beast—to corrupt you, to fuck you, to rightfully touch you, to show you all you had been missing out on due to that godforsaken village. You were ethereal in his eyes, the only angel that would ever be by his side, the first and last woman to be called his lady; and his lordship could not be any happier. Each day since your arrival, you had loosened his level of restraint and made him rethink being immortal, but God was he satisfied that all his waiting and preying had worked out. 

He had gotten the girl, sunk his teeth in, and successfully held on.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Much Too Kind

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has found a soft spot for a girl who is much too kind for her own good, too trusting, in such a gruesome world.

warnings : astarion bites.

a/n : i haven't played baldurs gate (so i apologize for my lack of knowledge) but astarion is consuming my brain.

“Do you honestly feel safe sleeping with him sitting this close by?”

“He’s done nothing but help us this whole time, why would I not?”

“Because he’s a vampire?” Shadowhearts face is blank, speaking as though her words shouldn’t need to be spoken, an obvious thought. She stares into you, awaiting a proper answerings, and she almost scoffs when she doesn’t get what she wants. In return you roll your eyes, continue to ready yourself to sleep. 

When you feel that you're ready to go to bed, Shadowhearts voice is unheard. She is already situated inside of her bedroll, which she had set up farther away from the fire than you liked, in a way of protecting herself from a seemingly harmless Astarion. In all fairness, you have probably been too trusting in the man. But how could you not?

He had been such a tease since the moment you met him. Because he seemed to annoy you, he never left your side. But you quickly grew fond of the pale man, and it was suddenly you who couldn’t leave his side. Astarion had no problem with this, and a weird fondness began brewing in his chest whenever he was around you. He had a burdening soft spot for you unlike anyone else. He couldn’t even bring himself to feed around you in case he scared you off, feeling an unprecedented amount of fear of losing you. The relationship you shared was teetering on a very thin line of romance and teasing gone too far. 

The two of you were an unlikely pair. Astarion was manipulative, and you knew that from watching him work, but he never used it on you (as far as you knew). He viewed you as too sweet for your own good, taking it upon himself to keep you from danger. In all honesty, you probably didn’t need him for that. Sure he helped when you were obviously being lied to and couldn’t tell but you could hold your own in battle just fine. From your point of view he was nothing but trustworthy and helpful. Shadowheart, your ever protective friend, had a hard time seeing the same thing. 

But when you made a fuss about having to sleep in your armour, unlike Shadowheart who had no problem with the matter, he had offered up a spare shirt. You weren’t sure where it had been beforehand but it was comfy, with undone strings hanging from the neckline, and it was large enough to go down to your mid thigh which was perfect. And his scent covering it was an added bonus. You had never thought much about it, but you never wore your heavy pants to sleep, being too hot inside your stuffy bed roll. 

You were usually asleep before everyone else, and the first to wake in the morning, so this never proved to be a problem. And, if you had to think about it, you were usually in a tent by yourself. But with only Shadowheart and Astarion around you didn’t see a problem. 

But when you crawled into your bedroll, at a middle distance between Astarion propped up against a log by the fire and Shadowheart sleeping farther from him, you began to see the problem. Shadowhearts words from before were dug into your brain, what if Astarion was dangerous and he did end up hurting you in your sleep just like she had said. You had never felt any fear towards the man, but her words had planted an unfamiliar distrust in your head.

You were dangerously aware of every noise around you. Unable to sleep, because of your focus on everything around you. The soft snores from Shadowhearts bedroll, and the quiet hum from a bored  Astarion playing with the fire. As long as he was by the fire, seated much too close for comfort now, you thought you’d be able to hear him coming. You think everything is fine, but being so edge you catch the smallest sounds, and you shoot up at the sound of a twig snapping. 

“My, my. Such a light sleeper my dear.” You turn towards Astarion, breath heavy, and a guilty feeling festering in your lower stomach. He’s almost exactly where he was when you first laid down. There’s a smug grin written on his face and you’re not sure why, though you don’t have the energy to question it. With sleepy eyes, you look around once more searching for anything out of the ordinary in the darkness, but you turn back to Astarion in the end. 

“I can’t sleep.” He throws another piece of wood on the fire, the light dancing across his face in pretty patterns from the dispersed light, his white shirt untied just enough to see his collarbones and the beginning of his chest. The sight alone has thrown the tenseness away from your body, and your muscles soften up, posture loosening. 

“And is there any reason in particular?” You meet his eyes again, a flurry of heat covers your cheeks, the look in his eyes telling you that you had been caught ogling him. “You seem so on edge, darling.”

He’s seated, practically the same height as you while he lays against the log, but it feels like he’s staring down at you. His fangs show as he parts his lips in a small, condescending grin. 

“I’m just not used to sleeping out in the woods s’all.” He nods, he doesn’t believe you, and you can understand why because you’ve only been camping in the wild for weeks by now. 

“Are you sure that's all? Cause I believe I heard that vile woman over there talking about a ‘bigger threat’ than whatever’s out there.” He gestures to Shadowheart and the dark, full woods around you. 

You shake your head, pout on your face, nervous that he would think differently of you if he knew what was actually going through your head. He was perceptive enough and, unbeknownst to you, you were an easy read. Of course he had heard the two of you talking, and he knew that you had not spoken ill of him, but it was so fun to tease you. And he knew you had grown nervous in his presence. 

“You’re not worried because of me are you?” Your eyes widen and you shake your head once more. There was  concern written all over his features, the crinkle in between his brows and his parted lips. To anyone else his concern would look fake, you were certain it was real. And to him, it was somewhere in between. He did feel something for you that put him in an unfortunate position, but the idea that you were scared of him sent misery through his bones.

“No of course not!” The comfy bedroll you had been laying in, shimmies down your legs as your torso tightens up again and your posture becomes much too straight for your liking. 

A soft sigh leaves his mouth, “Would you come sit over by me? You feel so far away.” His lips curve at the corners when you seem to think for a moment, but ultimately stand up. You bunch your bedroll up in your arms, not wanting to sit on the rocks. And when your eyes meet his again, he's already eyeing up your legs, you feel suddenly much too exposed. The night air nips at your skin and you hurry over to the spot beside him, throwing the bed roll on the ground and sitting on top of it. 

“Didn’t need to bring that over, silly girl. There’s a perfectly fine seat right here.” His eyes look down to his lap then back up to you, your face flush again. 

“I’m okay here,” You regret looking at him when you see his eyes plead with you, “..For now.” 

He really was cunning. You figured he was scheming. But he truly had no intention of misleading you, just wanted you close. He couldn’t help that he found it so cute how nice you were. Too nice in his opinion. Dangerous world out there, he was just trying to teach you who you could and couldn’t trust. Maybe you would get into more trouble, if you always trusted men like him.  

But no danger if you never have to think about other men. 

“Do you believe the things she says?” His eyes stared into the fire, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him, that guilty feeling was growing in your stomach. “I know you must not trust me, at least not fully.”

You stay silent, you’re almost scared to talk, in fear you offend him anymore then you already have. You pull your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around your legs, guilt eating away at your insides. 

He looks at you now, with his eyes he traces your legs where your shirt no longer hangs enough to cover you, up to your face that wears a pout and tired eyes. “Do I scare you?” 

“No!” You sit up onto your knees, facing him fully. “No! I’m sorry Astarion, if i made you feel that way..”

He almost feels bad for a moment. You were too sweet, and while yes he had been worried for a moment, he was only teasing. 

In your moment of weakness, and putting yourself in an easy position, he grabs you to pull you onto his lap. Where he has wanted you all along. Both thighs on either side of his seated form, face much closer to his own than you ever planned on being. His shirt, adorning your body, hangs down your thighs and rustles against his legs. 

“Could you..promise?” His voice is so smooth, and his eyes look so alluring in this position, his hands planted on your hips. Your breath is caught in your throat when he asks, you aren't so sure that your answer before is entirely truthful now. He has too much control of this situation, and it is making you nervous, more nervous then before if that was even possible. 

“I..I promise. Of course, I promise!” You're in such a compromising position and you wish you had slept with pants on. It’s much too cold out on your bare skin, but being on Astarions lap is making your body much too hot.

“Very good.” His head moves closer to you, pulling your body into his and sending shivers down your spine. 

“Astarion!” Your hands find his shoulders, trying to put distance between you but his hold is strong. He has got you where he wants you and there is no way he will be letting you go. His face buries itself in your neck, breath tickling your skin and his nose leaving soft touches against you. 

“You smell..delicious.” His voice was sultry, and so suggestive. You knew what he wanted, had been waiting for the moment he would say something. He was a hungry man with an uncomfortable amount of power over you. And your neck was looking awfully inviting. You hated that he had you feeling so many things, for a man who was so obviously trying to take advantage of you. 

He may have thought you were naive but you were smart enough to know what this vampire wants from you. Even though you were debating allowing it just so he would be happy and full, it tugged at your mind that he might just be using you for this purpose.

Shadowheart may have been right about him being a threat while you slept, but right now he was just as threatening. Would it hurt when he sunk his teeth into your skin?

As if he suddenly became more conscious in his actions, he pulled away, breath heavy against you. “I’m sorry, you are just such an appetising little thing.” He places a soft kiss to your cheek, your silence beginning to fill him with the same guilt you were feeling. He wasn’t sure why. This is what he wanted, sure he had grown fond of you but this is what he needed from the beginning. But it didn’t feel right anymore, not with the way you were so pliable in his hands, allowing him to tease you just so you wouldn’t offend him. 

“Are you hungry?” Your voice, surprising him, sends his eyes straight to yours. You couldn’t possibly be considering what he thought you were. 

“Yes darling, but don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” He lets out a heavy sigh, planting more kisses on your cheek down to your jaw. His attempt to distract you almost works but you gently move your face away, pulling your hair away from your neck. 

“Could I help?” You looked at him with a warmth in your eyes, one he hadn’t seen from anyone but you for years. Your devotion to him pulled at his heart, you were so willing to help him without even knowing if it would hurt or not. 

“You would do that..for me?” His hand finds your cheek, voice sending gentle vibrations through you. You can only nod, scared that if you speak it’ll be nothing above a whisper. 

He takes your hair from your hand, holding it out of his way. A gentle kiss to your cheek. Another on your jaw. And he moves them all the way down to your neck where he intends to bite. 

‘Astarion?” 

“Yes, my dear?” He pulls away, and you can tell it pains him to by the look of disappointment on his face, lips too pouty for how tough he always tries to act.

“Is it going to hurt?”  His eyes are so soft when he looks at you, even though he wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into your flesh. 

“I’ll try to make it painless, but you can hold my hand, yeah?” You nod and intertwine your fingers with his, scared but determined to make him happy. 

He returns to his place in your neck, places a soft kiss before he sinks his teeth into you. Immediately, your fingers squeeze his own and he sends a squeeze back so you know he’s there. He almost feels bad, whimpers falling from your lips, but you taste so delectable that he can’t bring himself to. 

Astarion continues to drink, and you allow it. You only make an effort to stop him when you become dizzy, and your head becomes too heavy for you to hold on your own. Your grip on his hand loosens, and you use his other one to tap at his arm. It seems to snap him out of his trance cause he pulls away, licking his lips. 

“You taste as good as I had hoped you would.” A drowsy smile crashes against your face and your chest swells with pride, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. The energy is gone from your body. You know he wouldn’t have killed you, but any longer and you wouldn’t be in any condition to fight the next day. You didn’t know if you would be as is. 

Astarion seems to notice, and he moves you to sit inside your bed roll. Your hand still holds his, and you lay on your side to face him. 

“Such a sweet thing,” he rubs your hair flat with his free hand, admiring your sleepy features in the fire light, “Sleep my dear. I’ll keep you safe.”

[moonstruckme]

hihi mae!! in honor of the season, could i request reader convincing bodygaurd!james to carve pumpkins together. and it’s basically just him on the brink of cardiac arrest bc reader is using the biggest butcher knife possible, like an absolute menace, and he’s 100% convinced she’s gonna saw her fingers off lol. thx for considering ♡

Thank you lovely!!

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 814 words

James has half a mind to find you a plastic knife and let you make do with that. It might take you a while longer, yeah, but at least he wouldn’t have to feel every muscle in his body tense each time you stab the knife you’ve picked through your pumpkin. 

“I thought you were doing a cat,” he says, watching you push another piece out from what will be your pumpkin’s mouth. 

“I am.” 

“Why does it have fangs?” 

“It just felt like it should.” You shrug. “Sort of spookier that way, right? Maybe it’s a vampire cat.” 

“And here I thought it was going to be cute.” 

You smile at him. “No, Jamie. That’s yours.” 

With all his attention on making sure you don’t slash yourself, James has made pitifully little progress on his own pumpkin. He’s only managed to cut out the nose, but when he’s done it’s going to be a classic, smiling jack-o-lantern, except with hearts for eyes. You’d beamed and called it fitting when James told you his plan. He’s been ruminating over what you could have meant by that ever since. 

For his own project he’s using a small paring knife, mostly because he’d hoped you’d follow his example (what wishful thinking that was) but also because James doesn’t tend to do well with precision and he didn’t see a big knife helping matters. You, however, have selected what may be the largest knife he’s ever seen. He can’t comprehend what a beast that size would even be necessary for in a kitchen, much less for carving a pumpkin. Your unskilled grip on the handle makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. 

“I think we ought to find you a different tool,” he tries again. 

“James, you worry too much.” You roll your eyes, hardly looking as you shove your knife through the flesh of your pumpkin. He flinches. “This one is working fine.” 

“Right, I just feel like—” You do it again. James worries he’s developing an eye twitch. “—like possibly I’m not doing my job by letting you handle a weapon like that.”

“It’s not a weapon, it’s a kitchen knife.” 

Again, not a clue what in the kitchen could require a knife that large. 

“I think its capacity for injury is the same regardless, angel. Let me have it, please? That way I can keep working here and you can keep all of your fingers.” 

“You need to chill out,” you say, unnervingly serene for someone who seems to James on the precipice of life-changing injury. “This knife is the perfect size for how big I want my eyes to be. If I have to saw using another one, they won’t look as clean.” 

“Is that really worth risking your hand for?” 

“Yes. I want the triangles to look nice when I stick them onto the top as its ears.” 

“How are you going to do that?” 

“With toothpicks.” 

Right. A more moderate risk of injury, for sure, but James is now too high-strung to imagine anything other than disastrous outcomes between you and sharp objects. He imagines you skewering one of your lovely fingertips on a toothpick, the surprised look on your face when it happens. His own heart bursting straight out of his chest from overexertion. 

“Maybe I could do that part for you,” James suggests weakly. 

“Shit.” You’re looking into your hollow pumpkin. “The eye won’t come out.” 

“Let me try.” 

“No, I’ve got it.” 

Before he can stop you, you’re sticking your knife inside your pumpkin. It comes spearing out the other side a moment later, the triangle of one eye impaled on its tip. James chokes on a gasp as you stop it within inches of your abdomen. 

“There,” you say satisfiedly. 

James makes a strangled sound. “No,” he says, seizing your wrist and carefully removing the knife from your hand. “No, I can’t do it. We’re swapping.” 

“What?” You look at him with wide, wounded eyes. It’s adorable, compelling even, but James won’t allow himself to budge. “But your knife is so lame.” 

James guffaws. He feels half delirious. This is it, he thinks. His love for you has finally driven him insane. 

“It’s not lame.” 

You pout. “It’s tiny.” 

“Sweetheart.” James sets the knife down to hold your face in both hands. You go still with surprise. “If you stab yourself with your giant knife, I won’t be around to get fired. I’ll die of heartbreak. Do you understand?” 

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re softening. “You really like my hands that much?” 

“I like all of you. In tact. You’re perfect as you are.” 

“Fine, whatever.” You pull your face from his grasp, picking up the smaller knife. “I know you secretly just wanted to be the one with the bigger knife, though.” 

“Yeah, you’ve caught me. Can’t get anything past you.”

[flippinpancakes64]

Hello! I love your stuff and I wanted to request their response to:

Reader: Let me take care of you.

Them: It's rotten work...

Reader: Not to me...not if it's you.

Keep writing! You're amazing! (And I need something to read while I stay up)

Taking care of the Cullens

Ok ngl this ask has me giggling and kicking my feet

Jasper let me take care of you 😡😭❤️

Uhm and remember in my request rules thing where I said I don’t do narratives… i might be a big fat liar cause that’s what I did here… don’t come for me

And thank you so much for the kind words! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We all know he has a bit of a complex when it comes to his worth and his humanity

He tends to get in his own head a lot

Especially when it comes to you and your relationship

He doesn’t really get jealous in the normal sense

He just sort of gets sad when he sees you with other people

It’s one day after school and Edward seems to be avoiding you. You’re sitting at the table with Emmett, Alice, Esme, and Jasper playing a card game.

Only Edward is nowhere to be found.

The game finishes, Alice winning and Emmett immediately going into ranting mode about how it’s rigged. You excuse yourself to go check on him.

You find him upstairs in the piano room, plunking away on the keys mindlessly. If he wasn’t a vampire and you didn’t know better, you would say he didn’t even notice you enter the room.

You stood behind him for a while, watching as his fingers danced over the ivory keys.

“It sounds beautiful” you say.

He doesn’t respond.

“Edward, what’s the matter? You’ve hardly spoken to me all day.”

“Do you ever wish I was human?”

The question catches you off guard.

“To wish for you to be human would be to change you, and I happen to love you just the way you are.”

He huffs, his fingers halting.

“But don’t you wish I was warm? Don’t you wish I could eat the foods you like, actually sleep next to you at night, grow old with you?”

You sit down next to him at the stool and take his hands in your own.

“What were you like when you were human?”

The change of subject seems to catch him off guard, his face twists slightly as he thinks. He pauses for a beat before answering.

“I was a bit of a troublemaker. My mom always said I was giving her grey hairs way too early. I didn’t do any of my schoolwork, I just wanted to go and be free.”

“Hm, sounds like the you that could sleep, eat, and grow old was a bit of a wild card. Not really my type. You know I prefer the sophisticated, musical type.”

He laughs at that, hanging his head down to press a kiss to your joined hands.

“So what you’re saying is you like the version of me without a soul better,” he says bitterly. You frown at that.

“No, I’m saying I like the you that I have now. I love you, Edward. I would never trade you for anyone else in the world whether they have a pulse or not.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“You know this is how it will always be, right? I’ll always be here, trying some new way to push you away from me. To make you realize that you deserve better.”

“And I’ll always be here to take care of you and make sure you know that my mind will never change.”

“Taking care of me for the rest of your life… talk about the worst job you could get.”

“Only it won’t be a job. Not for me. Not when it’s for you.”

He looks at you then, finally. His big, black eyes staring into yours.

You’ve wished it before, but in this moment you wish you were the one who could read his mind instead of the other way around.

“You’re so stupid,” he smiles, and leans in for a kiss.

Maybe one day he’ll fully believe you.

Alice:

Alice has a tendency to shut down whenever there’s too much going on

Too many people are on the cusp of making decisions that could change their lives

It seems that every person she meets on the street has a vision attached

She can’t take it anymore

You find her curled up in a ball in her room, the TV playing a program you don’t think she’s watching.

Around her are scattered sketchbook pages, each one hastily ripped from the pad and thrown to the floor.

On these pages are drawings of buildings, people, animals, and tragedies. You catch the face of a woman who’s screaming as a bullet heads straight for her face. In another is an open room with a small grenade in the center.

No wonder she’s been so upset.

None of the pages show joy, every single one a warning of a disaster that’s just waiting to happen.

In front of her, there’s a stack of drawings that she���s flipping through. On one of them you catch what looks like your face, only it’s contorted in a scream. In another you see Jasper, but you can’t make out what’s around him.

“Alice,” you call out, and her head whips up. Maybe she hadn’t heard you like you thought she did. “What’s wrong?”

She looks at you like a deer in headlights for a moment, before her eyes glance back down to the papers in front of her.

“There’s nothing wrong. Not yet, at least.”

Her tone is grave. You can hear the desperation for an answer, or at least a break.

You sigh, and move to sit next to her. You reach to take the stack of papers from her, meeting no resistance. If she wanted to keep them from you, she could. But she knew now that fighting you was always going to be useless.

“Alice, I know you can’t control the fact that you see these visions. But you can control how much you obsess over them. This isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t need to be healthy. I can’t die or get sick.”

You sigh again. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You can’t keep withering away in here obsessing over what might happen.”

“But-“

“No buts.” You say, throwing the stack of papers to the side. “How long ago did you have these visions?”

She thinks for a moment.

“Yesterday, I think.”

“Alright. Have they happened yet?”

“Well, no…”

“From what you saw, are they still a possibility now?”

“…they are… a very low possibility…”

You could see her reluctantly piecing together your words, clearly not wanting to admit her mistake out loud.

“Look, Alice, you know that I’m always touched by you looking out for me, but in moments like this I need to look out for you too.”

She looks into your eyes, then hangs her head again.

“But that’s not how it’s supposed to be. My gift, I should be the one taking care of you-“

“No. There is no ‘supposed to’ anything. Humans aren’t ‘supposed to’ be with vampires and yet here we are. So please just come with me and watch a movie or cuddle or something?”

She looks at you again, then. Staring into your eyes, then glancing around her room, at all of the papers, then back to you. She smiles slightly and floats up to her feet.

“Fine. But I’m picking the movie.”

Jasper:

This is a man who needs some serious love and reassurance

He’s always on edge around you, even if he plays it off like he isn’t

He’s just always so scared of hurting you or doing something wrong

And a lot of the time that manifests as him isolating himself to try and get you to leave him

It was gonna be one of those nights again.

A night that you would spend alone in the bed you were supposed to be sharing with the love of your life, Jasper.

But no. On a night like this, he’s out in the woods, far, far away. Stewing in his feelings and brooding.

You don’t even remember anything happening this time. Sometimes something can set him off; a jab from someone at school, a hug he gave you that ended up being WAY too tight, anything really. Anything that reminds him of how he’s not supposed to be with you.

But right about now, you’re sick of it.

The Cullens have taken to being quieter at night since you’ve started sleeping over a lot more, but you know they’re all here- all except for the one you want.

So it being 2 am won’t bother any of the other residents of the house. You roll out of bed and march your way over to the door, throwing it open (politely) and stomping down the steps.

Emmett is the first one you see, and you decide he’ll be perfect for the job anyway.

“What’s got you going, firecracker?” He asks.

“I need you to go find Jasper and bring him to me. Now. I need to talk to him,” you couldn’t help the anger and frustration that seeped into your voice. Lack of sleep will do that to you.

Emmett stood up straight and gave a stupid salute, “One loner coming right up, boss.”

And with that he was out of the door, and you trudged back upstairs to wait for your boyfriend.

You were laying in the bed, still trying desperately to go to sleep when you heard a light knock on the door. Your eyes flicked open to see Jasper standing in the doorway, looking completely out of place and uncomfortable.

All of your anger left instantly, all you saw was the sweet man who was far too worried for his own good.

You sighed and scooted over, patting the spot next to you.

“Come here, Jasper.”

A look of what could only be described as fear flashed across his face before he shook his head and muttered a small, “i can’t.”

You sighed again and stood up, making your way over to him. When you reached him, you stretched your arms out to take his face in your hands, his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

“Look, Jas, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have a pretty damn good idea. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” he says, looking into your eyes, something about the black made him look more human, more scared. “Vampires are already dangerous, but I’m the worst of the worst. You’ve found yourself a faulty cannon amongst rifles, darling.”

You frowned at his analogy, squeezing his perfect face in your hands.

“You are NOT faulty, you hear me? You are perfect. Perfect for me, at least.”

“The perfect man for you wouldn’t be tearing himself up inside trying not to kill you.”

“And a lesser man would have already done it.” He was shocked at that, stunned into silence. He hung his head slightly, not meeting your eyes once more.

“And what if I do hurt you one day? Would you ever forgive me? Could I ever forgive myself?”

“I don’t think you will. But if you do, Carlisle will put me back together and I’ll jump right back into your arms.”

His eyes bore into your soul as he stared at you like you were crazy.

“Why the hell would you do that? Come running right back to me?”

“To make sure you don’t hate yourself for too long. Now come on, I’m tired and I can’t sleep without my personal AC unit.”

He looked at you with disbelief. You knew he didn’t believe you, you don’t know if he ever will.

But that’s okay. You’ll keep him right here, and pull him back to you every time he runs away.

Eventually, he’ll understand that you love him.

Rosalie:

The topic of kids has always been a very touchy one for Rosalie

It’s all she’s ever wanted, and all that she still wants

Most days, the pain is not too much of an issue

But some days, it just gets to be too much

You and Rosalie were walking down the street, hand in hand as you strolled by the different shops and food stands.

The city was busy today, many young couples out and about, shopping, talking, kissing far too passionately to be in public, the usual.

“Rose, do you mind if we sit down for a bit? These shoes Alice chose for me look really nice, but they are so uncomfortable.”

She giggled, but nodded and led you both to a bench. You sat down with a heavy sigh, finally getting off of your feet after what felt like forever (even though it was only about an hour).

Across the way in the little park you’ve both found yourself in, a young couple is sitting on a bench.

The woman has long, flowing, blonde hair that frames her face in loose curls. She’s wearing a gorgeous floral-patterned dress, and on her left hand is quite possibly the biggest, gaudiest ring you have ever seen.

To her right, a man sits, one who bears a striking resemblance to you, regardless of gender.

And in the middle, a little baby. A perfect mix of the two, her hair and his eyes, her nose and his jawline, all swaddled in a cute little onesie.

You’re about to turn to Rosalie to point out the cute baby (she always loves to look and maybe go touch it if the parents allow her to) when you see that she’s already looking.

Her face is grave, like she’s looking at her own headstone. Her face is twisted in grief, and she looks on the verge of tears.

It takes you a second to connect the dots, but once you do, your heart clenches for her.

That woman looks like her, reminds Rosalie of herself. And the man looks like you. And that baby is what she wants, all she’s ever wanted. What she can’t have.

Babies are always hard for her, but this struck a deep chord.

“Rose… do you wanna go home?” You ask softly, not wanting to come off as pushy.

“…”

“Come on, let’s go,” you grab her arm to pull her up, she goes with you, but keeps her head craned back to the young couple the whole time.

Once you’re far away, she breaks down. You’ve never seen a vampire cry, and that’s probably because they can’t. But if they could, Rosalie would be sobbing.

You know it’s bad because she doesn’t even care that she falls to the floor in this dirty, nasty alleyway. Normal Rosalie would rather die 100 times over than get her clothes dirty, especially here.

You sit down next to her, letting her dry heave and gasp into your shoulder, her wails breaking your heart.

You’re helpless here. Cause what can you really do? You can’t give her a kid, she can’t give you one either. You can’t go back in time and stop her from being killed. And you can’t go back and steal that baby from that couple (even though you kind of really want to).

So you just hold her.

You run her hair, pat her back, kiss her head, and whisper into her ear. How much you love her, how she’s perfect, how it’s okay, how you don’t think less of her.

Once she’s calmed down and her breathing has slowed, she looks up at you.

“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be seeing this side of me.”

“What? I want to be here for you, Rose. I know I can’t fix this for you, but at least I can-“

“Fix it? Darling, don’t worry about fixing me. I’m already completely broken, there’s nothing to fix.”

With that you just take a moment to look at her. Her face screams that she is broken. In her soul, at least. Her and Edward are a lot more similar than they like to think.

“Rosalie. You are not broken. There is nothing wrong with you.”

She scoffs at that. “I’m not human. I’d say that’s pretty wrong. Not to mention the fact that I can’t even look at a couple with a baby and not want to violently kill someone.”

“And that’s okay.”

She scoffs again.

“No, really, Rose. I mean it. I’m never ever going to think less of you for something like this. You went through something I can never even imagine and now you’re left to pick up the pieces. Just let me help you.”

She looks at you, her eyes staring into yours. The grief that she’s feeling is evident. But deep in her eyes, you see a touch of something else. Trust, maybe.

“You know, you’re gonna be picking up pieces for the rest of your life.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind. Not if it’s you.”

Emmett:

He likes to pretend to be all big and bad all of the time

But in reality, he's still a person

He just has a hard time remembering that sometimes

You don't know where he got all of that energy from.

I mean, realistically, you know that he can never get tired.

But really, even for a vampire this was unnatural.

Some nobody in school had challenged him to an arm wrestle. Of course, he can never resist. He grabbed the guy's hand and prepared to pummel him, only to flinch and have his hand thrown down against the wood of the desk.

The guy had one of those fake shock things in his hand, and as soon as Emmett clamped down it vibrated like crazy.

To say he was pissed would be an understatement.

And now he was taking all of that anger out on the trees around the Cullen house.

"That-" punch "fucking-" punch "ASSHOLE!" punch punch punch

It had been days. And you were honestly getting worried. He hadn't hunted in those days, much less came inside the house. You're surprised the park ranger hasn't come knocking yet.

You heard a hollowed cracking sound and looked to see Emmett standing triumphantly as a rather large oak tree fell to the ground, followed by a guttural roar from the man.

"Emmett," you called, barely above a whisper. But you know he heard you. "Come over here please."

He looks at you with a slightly guilty look, the anger from before fading away as he hangs his head and trudges over to you. He stops just a few feet in front of you, lamely kicking the rocks beneath his toes as he avoids your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s that stupid fucking guy-“

“No,” you stop him, putting your hand up to silence him. “What’s actually wrong? Don’t tell me you’re seriously this pissed about losing an arm wrestling match with some nobody.”

He just stood there in silence for a second. You took this chance to stand up and grab his face in your hands, instantly he leaned in, perching his head on your palms.

“I just… need to be strong. That’s what I am, I need to be strong,” he whispered, his voice coming out shy and meek.

You just smiled at him sadly and rubbed his cheek.

“I can be strong too you know. So every once in a while you can let me take care of you instead.”

He laughed at that.

“You, strong? As if. I could fold you in half!”

You punched him lightly in the arm.

“You jerk! I’m trying to be sentimental!”

He laughed again and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to their previous spot cradling his face.

“Ok ok, serious sentimental time.”

You just laughed and kissed him.

Esme:

She has a bad habit of overreacting

Just a dash of anxiety

So when something-anything happens to you, she freaks out

This is bad.

Like really, really bad.

You were supposed to be driving to go see Esme at the Cullen house, but of course your piece-of-shit car decided that now would be a perfect time to break down.

Too far away from home to walk back, too far away from the Cullens to walk there, and the nearest anything was also too far.

Not to mention the snow covering the ground didn’t really entice you to get out of your still-warm car.

So you tried calling someone to come get you.

Only, of course there’s no service out here because why would there be.

Just your luck.

You weigh your options, and decide that walking is just gonna have to do.

You didn’t pack a winter coat because you didn’t think you’d be outside for this long, but you had a blanket stored in your backseat and it was better than nothing.

So off you trekked through the freezing cold winter storm to the Cullen house.

Inside, Esme was (in)patiently waiting.

Your favorite meal was waiting for you, already plated and getting colder by the second on the dining room table.

You said you were on your way 30 minutes ago. It takes about 30 minutes to get from your house to their house.

So where were you?

Her ears perked at the sound of a slowly beating heart coming from down the driveway.

It didn’t sound like one of the foxes or deer that roam around this time of year. No, it sounded a bit bigger, a bit more human.

She was out the door in a flash. Before anyone had the chance to ask what she was doing she was by your side.

“Oh my god, honey, why are you out here?!”

“An angel…” and then you collapsed.

Cue Esme absolutely freaking the fuck out.

She has you in front of a lit fireplace, a heating blanket rested over your shoulders and a warm towel on your head.

She’s pacing back and forth in front of you. She wants to hold you so bad, to kiss you, cuddle you, protect you. But she can’t. She’ll just make the shivers wracking your body even worse.

“Es…” you croak, your eyes blinking open finally.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Why were you out there? Where’s your car? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Shhhh,” you whisper, bringing your finger up to shush her. “Just come here.”

You open up your blanket in an invitation to her.

“Are you out of your mind? I can’t cuddle with you right now, I’ll freeze you!”

“Please, you deserve to be taken care of too.”

She crumbles at that, you can see the resolve leaving her face. And then she figures that you won’t get too cold with the heated blanket and everything.

She cuddles up next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and ducking her head into your neck.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been there. And least of all I shouldn’t be such a mess right now.”

“It’s okay to be a mess, I’ll always be here to hold you.”

Carlisle:

No one really talks about the stress of being a pretend father for a bunch of eternal teenagers

Really, it’s a blessing that he doesn’t need sleep and isn’t affected by long hours

But despite that, he still gets so worn out

Today had been a long day for Carlisle.

It was student-teacher conference day. And while that’s not usually an issue since he always tells the kids to behave, Emmett decided it was necessary to punch a kid last week.

To be honest, Carlisle didn’t really care if the kid was a bully or not, all he viewed it as was something more drawing attention to them.

On top of that, the cattiness between Edward and Rosalie seemed to be especially bad today.

They were at each other’s throats for the better part of the day, and nothing would get them to separate.

At work, at least a dozen new patients showed up. A factory that was close by had a gas leak, very minor. None of the people were harmed at all, but many still insisted on going to the clinic.

Carlisle’s not one to discourage people from getting checked out, but he is one to tell people to go home when they’re fine, which everyone was.

But these people kept insisting something was wrong. A boy with a broken arm had to wait for three hours for a room to open up because the factory workers refused to leave.

By the time he got home, he was exhausted, you could tell. His eyes were heavy, as were his footsteps. His hair was disheveled, he had clearly been running his fingers through it all day from the stress.

He looked like a mess. But even then, he greeted you with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

He always takes such good care of you, whether you’re sick or not, he’s always there with whatever you want.

Now it’s your turn.

“Carlisle, are you busy?” You ask, peeking into his home office. Even after the super long day, he’s a man of habit.

“Not particularly,” he turns to look at you, setting his pen down, “why?”

“Follow me.”

You lead him to the bathroom, where a nice, warm back is drawn. Complete with lilac scented bath oil and two candles lit on the sink.

“The bath looks beautiful, darling. I’m sure the lavender will be great for your skin.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” you quip. All he does is raise an eyebrow. “It’s for you. I know you’ve had a long day, so go relax and meet me in the bedroom when you’re done.”

You don’t give him a chance to argue before you leave, shutting the door tightly behind you.

He emerges about 30 minutes later, still toweling his hair off.

“Ok now come on over here,” you pat the bed next to you, motioning him to sit there. Again, all he does is quirk and eyebrow but he obliges.

You take the remote to the TV in yours and Carlisle’s room, turning on his favorite movie. A classic one from the silent film era.

“But this… I haven’t seen this movie in years… how did you get it?”

“That’s the beauty of streaming platforms.”

You both sit in silence for a while, Carlisle seemingly happy to just watch his favorite movie after so long. Eventually, he turns to look at you with an inquisitive expression.

“So, what’s all this for?”

“What, am I not allowed to take care of you from time to time?”

He laughs slightly at that.

“A human taking care of a vampire, how twisted.”

You grab his face between your hands at that, drawing him close and looking deep into his yellow eyes.

“It’s not if I want to do it, and I would move the Earth for you.”

“Hopeless romantic,” and with that he kisses you.

Vampire! Bella:

She tends to… shut down

We all know how she was when she couldn’t be with Edward

That translates over

It really wasn’t supposed to be that big of a deal.

Your Spanish class was going to be taking a two week trip to Spain.

Only, Bella wasn’t in Spanish. This time around, she chose to take French. Which was all fine and good, until it meant that she couldn’t go with you.

Cue two weeks of endless calls and texts.

On the phone with you , she sounds fine. But from your calls with Alice, she’s not doing too hot.

She hasn’t been hunting since you’ve been gone, she’s completely stopped going to class, and she also hasn’t talked to anyone in the house.

It’s the last night of your trip, you’re in your hotel room, the girl you’re sharing with is sound asleep in the other bed, but you know one girl who’s never asleep.

You call Bella’s number, and she answers instantly, like she’s been waiting all day for you to call. In all honesty, she probably has.

“Hey, what are you up to?” You can hear the attempt to be nonchalant in her voice, but her eagerness gives her away.

“Oh nothing, I just got off the phone with Alice… wanna tell me why you didn’t leave our room today? Or yesterday? Or the day before?”

You can hear her pause on the line, like she’s trying to come up with a convincing lie, but eventually she sighs.

“I just… I’ve just been missing you a lot, is all. I want you here next to me, I feel incomplete without you.”

Yowch. Right through the heart.

You decide then to help in some way, you don’t know how immediately, but you have to do something.

So you start to hum.

Whenever you have a bad day, Bella hums the song her mom used to sing to her. You always ask her to, and even though she says she isn’t a great singer, she indulges you anyway.

Sometimes it’s the only thing that can stop you from a panic attack or calm you enough to go back to sleep after a nightmare.

You hear her gasp slightly before y he sound of sheets rustling, presumably her laying her head down.

You go through the whole song twice over, Bella never telling you to stop or joining you.

After your voice fades out and the line stays dead for a moment, you swear you can hear Bella overthinking.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I’m an apex predator. I shouldn’t be so upset whenever you leave for a little bit.”

You laugh lightly at that, and you can hear her scoff across the line.

“I don’t mind. Especially when it’s you. Bella, I love you and I would do anything for you.”

“Even if I’m a beautiful monster who was designed to kill you?”

“Even if you did kill me, I would hope that my blood nourishes you for months on end.”

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch. 4: Black Out Days

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Fat!Reader

MDNI | cw: sickness, hallucinations, injury, some light dubcon

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life. Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate.

A/N: the tone of this story has sort of shifted as I’ve worked on the next few chapters/plot points. I hope it’s not too jarring, but I’m excited for the direction it’s going in.

Your mother rises out of her drunken stupor - spine too straight and head flopped back limply. As if her hips are the only thing capable of moving and her neck has snapped at every ligament. The worn sheets pool around her hips, torn neckline of her nightclothes exposing her gaunt, bruised collar bones.

She says your name in that sickening, gruff voice of hers. A voice too exposed to the poisons outside. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth, coats her teeth as she speaks. Black and viscous. “Oh, darling, what have you gotten yourself into?”

You’re small. A child kneeling by her bed like you always did, waiting for her to ask you to bring her water or pain pills. “What?”

“It’s easier if you give in.”

People aren’t buried anymore. There isn’t room. Your mother’s urn is painfully cold in your hands. You stumble as the train lurches. A new voice hisses above you. Wild eyes and big hands that leave clawing, bloodied stripes in their wake down your body. A flash of blonde, some sort of scar. An accent so old you don’t recognize it.

“It’s easier if you give in, little girl.”

You fall back, out of the train doors and onto something soft and silky. For a few beats you stay there, in the quiet. In the dark. Comfortable in a way so deeply foreign to you it might as well be alien. Until some thick cover pulls away from your face. John grins down at you, shirtless with his head resting on his hand and elbow on the pillow below him.

“Knew you were awake.”

You rub your eyes. “Wh- when did- when did I get here?”

He frowns, a deep crease forming in his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” You run a hand through your sleep tangled hair. “I don’t know…”

“It could be so easy, Fancy.” He murmurs, voice low and far away. “It doesn’t have to be… this.”

“I can’t…” Something complicated swirls in your chest. A twisting of guilt and love and unadultered disgust.

The world shifts. You’re standing, now. Simon leans on the railing of the penthouse balcony, staring out at the city. He takes up so much space. Envelopes you without even touching you. “How many memories do you think a person can lose before they’re someone else entirely?”

“What?” You frown. There’s an ache in your head - a drumming pain growing more intense by the second. Your bones rattle along to the rhythm.

“It’d be so easy…”

You peel your eyes open only slightly. It hurts, as if they’ve been glued shut. An offensive light blazes in your face. It takes a moment before you realize the tingle on your skin comes from the UV lamp beside you. Did you fall asleep under it again? No matter how hard you blink your vision won’t clear. When you finally manage to swallow it feels like your throat has been lined with shards of glass.

You grope around the bed uselessly, hands unsure. The edge of the bed takes longer to get to than it should. With a low groan you crawl to the edge, barely managing to swing your legs over. Well, swing is a generous description. In reality you end up on your back on the floor, head thunking against some sort of plush rug or carpet. Your vision swims.

With another groan you slowly pull yourself up into a shaky stance. Wherever you are, it’s big. The bed you fell out of is easily a king with richly woven sheets and a thick comforter. The rug on the floor has such intricate patterns it makes your pounding head dizzy. There’s even a fireplace in the far corner, unlit at the moment.

Something different catches your eye - an item too familiar for this foreign room. Your box of valuables sits on an elegantly carved wooden dresser. Real, actual wood. You run your fingers over the strangely organic material, so rare that it almost feels more unnatural than the plastic plywood you’ve grown accustomed to in the slums.

You limp weakly toward the heavy door on the far wall. A whine escapes you as you pull it open, the heavy wood causes the hinges to creak quietly. You poke your head out, walking down the empty hall like a person with decade long atrophy. Sweat drips down your back, the sickness in your gut turning to anxiety as you realize where you are.

The penthouse.

Voices waft through the mostly open central area - deep and growling. A sound you might mistake for an angry beast if it weren’t for the intelligable words the noise makes up.

“Bloody ‘ell, Price, what the fuck?” That baritone could only belong to Simon. You poke your head around the corner of the wall, peaking into the living room where the four vampires stand.

“I know, I fucking know. I couldn’t-” An exasperated sigh. “I couldn’t lose her again.”

“So you fuckin’ marked ‘er?”

Your hand lifts shakily to the still sore cuts on your neck. They’ve scabbed over but barely. The action makes you look down at your hands - neatly bandaged. Recently, too, you think. At least if your blurred vision is to be believed.

“We’ll lose ‘er anyway if you fuckin’ scare ‘er away!” Simon’s volume continues to grow. He steps forward. John doesn’t back away.

“Guys…” Kyle tentatively steps in, hands outstretched between them as if stepping into a dog fight. He might as well be, frankly.

“You promised her you wouldn’t!” Simon’s voice wavers. It makes your heart skip, the unsteady sound so bizarre coming from him. “We all did!”

“Simon’s right.” Johnny crosses his arms. “We said we’d take our time. See where she’s at.”

“Weren’t exactly taking your time when you fucked her raw were you?” John snaps back. It’s shockingly childish and out of character for the man. Not that you would know. He sighs, rolling his wide shoulders. So much for not being angry about it.

Before you can make heads or tails of the scene playing out in front of you, your vision blackens, one leg stiffening and the other giving out. You barely catch yourself on some random side table, knocking it against the wall in the process. Despite your efforts to hold yourself up you collapse onto the cold, hardwood floor.

“Oh, baby girl.” It’s Kyle at your side first, cool hands tenderly enveloping you as he checks for damage.

“Don’t…” You push at his chest weakly. “Don’t touch me…”

“Dove-” A crack sounds throughout the penthouse, deafening and ringing as Simon’s palm comes into contact with John’s chest, forcing the man back a few steps.

“You’ve done enough.”

There’s a moment, long and silent as you watch them stare each other down. A power struggle. John is the head of the coven, objectively. The only way to change that is an exchange of power. A death. You’ve seen it out on the streets within lesser covens. Simon is bigger, but you can see the cold, dogmatic shift in John’s eyes. The look he gave you in the car. The one that says he is well and truly Right and there is nothing to stand between him and what is Right.

The moment ends when you double over, lungs heaving as you choke and cough. A slimy, viscous glob of red-black comes up from your throat. Barely liquid with the thickness of it. You fall limply against Kyle, as much as you’d rather be left in a dark alley than with these psychopaths your body just can’t hold itself up.

Someone scoops you up, pressing you tightly to their chest. Johnny or Kyle, you think. A touch so soft and sweet you might mistake it for love. Not that you would know. You’re back under the wave of nothing before you even touch the sheets.

You sit still as you can, arm growing tired of the stiff angle you have it positioned in. Laid out across some old loveseat that creaks every time you move even slightly. You don’t trust it to not have at least a little dry rot considering it’s from a good few centuries ago. One of those random pieces John hoards for some secret reason. The light positioned carefully above you feels too warm, discomfort making you twitchy.

“Johnnyyy!” You whine. “Hurry up!”

“Ye can do it, bonnie. Just sit like me.” He goes still. Inhumanly still. Transitioning from living (well, undead) being to a marble statue in barely a second. It sends a frightened shiver down your spine - the prey instinct in your hindbrain moving into overdrive.

You take a shaky breath. “I hate when you do that.”

When he does what? Has he done that before? Have you been here before?

“Jus’ be a good lass f’me.” Johnny murmurs. A different sort of shiver runs down your spine.

You recognize his room but it’s… different. Lighter, somehow, than the last time you were here. The only time you were here. The wall has far more drawings tacked to it, nearly doubling the amount and bleeding across onto another side of the room. You squint. It’s you. Well, mostly. All in different poses, some more salacious than others, each carved out with a deep attention to detail. Were… were those there before? They couldn’t have been.

Your body lights up, the room grows darker. Nearly pitch black. Your hips roll lazily. You feel… good. Ecstatic. The warmth from the light replaced by an immeasurable heat. The man below you comes into focus as the dream settles - a mountain. Blonde and pale and scarred. Part of his right ear is clipped off from a fight. At least you think it was a fight. His hair just barely long enough for you to tangle your fingers in. You’d know those dark eyes anywhere - the ones that look right to the very core of you. That know you wholly from Eve.

“Fuck, Si…”

“Tha’s my girl.” He grins. The action pulls at a scar covering his lips. “Always so good f’me.”

The hands on your waist lift you like nothing. Like you weigh as much as paper and are just as delicate. A burning fills you, a tension that pulls a grating whine from your chest.

A distant part of you remembers to question what this is. Why you’re here, with him. Why you’ve never seen his face before but seem to know every detail of it by heart. The rest of you falls into the moment without a care, allowing yourself to be consumed entirely by him and his desire. It’s all you want - all you need.

Simon’s voice rumbles in a sort of call and response to your devoted babbling. “I love you.”

You jolt, snapping forward and sloshing water around you. For a moment, you panic that you’re drowning. That you’ve been dropped into some great sea and left to flounder.

There’s a quiet rumble behind you, vibrating through your back. Simon. You couldn’t make out whatever he said.

You relax instinctively. Some unconcious part of you falls back into him. Until he runs a soap rag over your chest and you tense, clumsily attempting to cover yourself and curl into a ball. The water sloshes over the edge of the tub again. You don’t get very far, despite the massive size of the bath you’re utterly surrounded. Bracketed by Simon’s strong thighs and large hands.

“None of that.” He barks, pulling your arms back to continue washing you. “You’ve been sweatin’ in bed for four days. Gonna make y’self worse.”

Four days? Worse?

You stay quiet, limp and pliant as he pours a hefty glob of shampoo into your hair. Vanilla. Far too exhausted to put up any sort of fight. Not that you would win. It feels good, if you’re honest, the way he systematically scrubs every part of your scalp, slowly detangling with conditioner. You nod off for a moment, coming back when he pours water over your head to rinse you.

“Simon?” You murmur weakly.

He grunts.

“Why am I here?”

The hands in your hair pause. Only for a moment before going back to their gentle movements. “Because you’re ‘ome.”

You shiver, another coughing fit wracking your body. At least nothing comes up this time. There aren’t bandages on your hands, just the scabbing wounds that have obviously been carefully tended to. Even as the coughing subsides your breaths wheeze, shallow and hollow in your chest.

When you were young, your mother would set you in a cart to walk to the supermarket. The cracked streets would bump and rock you uncomfortably but it was better than walking all those miles. You always hated the market. Too loud and confusing. A maze of sterile white tile and shelving so high it felt giant to you.

One time you lost her, distracted by a massive plushie that she said you can’t afford. You’d stood there staring at it, angrily contemplating why you couldn’t afford it. What sort of societal disservice had been done that you can’t have that bright pink creature. Angry and lost you ended up wandering the aisles for what felt like an eternity. Walking through that white void in search of… you’re not really sure what, actually.

That confusion continues to eat at your mind as the aisles transition into a small, lush greenhouse. The UV lights above you would burn, if it weren’t for the large hat covering your head and shoulders. Gardening gloves protect your hands as you carefully harvest a few tomatoes. They came in so well this year, bright and firm.

You’re lost in it. The green. So accustomed to grays and neon lights that it feels unnatural. You turn your gloved hands over, palm up, down, up, down. They’re yours but distant. As if you’ve possessed some alternate version of yourself. You suppose you have, in a way, if these fever dreams are in pattern. Not that you remember the others well.

The lights turn off suddenly and you freeze, muscles tensing and hackles raising. You turn slowly as the door begins to creak open, trowel in hand. Not that it would do much against whoever has you cornered. John said to be wary.

He’s been acting strange lately.

Isn’t he always?

A hand clamps over your mouth and you shriek behind it. You claw at the stony hand covering you, instinct taking over. Adrenaline pulses through you.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” Kyle coos, letting you go quickly. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t do that!” You snap, harsher than you meant. Or less so?

He deflates a bit, shoulders sagging. “Sorry, I just wanted to come in here with you for a bit.”

“Why?” You snort. Kyle is the only one brave enough to venture in. Even with an external light switch, the others are far too wary of the UV lights hanging across the roof to enter. It’s a joke between Simon and Johnny - that they’ll throw Johnny into the greenhouse if he doesn’t behave.

Kyle nods, scooting forward. You can barely make him out, the only light being that of the faux stars drifting gently through the fogged greenhouse glass. “Missed you.”

“I saw you, like, five minutes ago.” Did you?

He shakes his head. You wish they would tell you more. They always hold back so much, as if your puny human brain can’t grasp what they think. You could. You’d learn to. Even if it was some horrid, eldritch secret you would bear it for them. He pushes you back until you’re laying on the floor, slowly resting his weight on you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Just let me stay like this for a bit.”

You frown, but only move to reach up and pet his hair. It’s smells like vanilla. He stole your shampoo again. A fraction of you screams, rails against the idea of being this close to an apex predator. To a man you don’t know. Strange. You know Kyle. You love him. Both the fear and the fondness swirl together into a confusing mixture in the back of your mind.

“We can stay. For as long as you want.”

Something heavy and cold coils around you. You weren’t out as long this time, you think. If you’re even awake now. The room is dark. A pitch black void that you float in outside of the grounding weight holding you in place. That vanilla scent felt so real, still wafting through your nose. A nagging sense of despair settles in your chest as it dissipates.

“Need t’go home.” You croak, unsure of why you say it. Your tongue feels heavy and numb. God only knows why.

“Ye are home.” Johnny murmurs in your ear, voice low.

“Not m’bed… sheets’r t’nice.”

“It’s yers.” Johnny’s arms tighten around you. His voice shakes. “It’s always been yers.”

“N-no…”

“Knew it was tae soon tae bring you back.” He buries his face between your shoulder blades. “Told Kyle it’d be tae much.”

“Wh-”

“Ye make us such a mess, bonnie.” He sighs. “Cannae believe Price-“

Johnny cuts himself off. You can’t find it in yourself to argue or press. A sob wracks you out of nowhere. Something about Johnny, about being wrapped up in his strong arms sends you over the edge of it all. The weight of him mimics the one in your chest.

“Dinnae cry.” Johnny sits up a bit, running a thumb under your eye.

“I’m s-so confused-“ You sob. “I can’t- I-“

Somewhere in the midst of your crying fit the bed dips in front of you. Kyle cages you in between himself and Johnny, pressing you tightly in the center. It makes you want to thrash, to fight and scream.

It also feels so, so good.

You’re back in the slums, in your apartment, with some random man groaning above you. He works down the street, you think. Smiles at you whenever you go get a coffee or cigarettes. You stare at the ceiling blankly. You brought him here… why did you bring him? What- You hiss at the living heat of his hands, burning through your skin - gut churning at the blue of his eyes. It’s wrong. Neither bright nor tranquil enough. You can’t voice it. Can’t place it. They’re just wrong.

You catch a flash of dark irises as you take drinks to some slimy little vampire paying on credit. Immortal but still poor. Pathetic. Suddenly, though, you don’t care when he and his friends grab at you, your gaze trained on the man lounged in a booth on the other side of the club. You can’t stop staring at him, something tugging at you deep down to go to him. His eyes connect with yours, and you nearly leap with joy when he waves you over.

Except, when you get close, you freeze in place. Straddling his lap, a crushing weight lands on you all at once. They’re not what you’re looking for…

What are you looking for?

You sob in your bed late into the night, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re so lost. So hollow. You don’t know why - don’t understand what changed. Some portion of you carved out into nothing. A soulless tulpa born of someone’s imagination. You can’t be human, there’s no way you can be human and this empty. A walking carcass. Not even undead, just barely animated. A puppet, almost.

It’d be so easy…

You wake in a fog this time, limbs heavy. As much as you try to will your arms to move, they won’t quite do it right. Your hands glide over the soft fabric around you, barely moving a few inches. The muscles twitch and shake. It feels like wading through molasses and with a thousand pounds of steel strapped to your back as you attempt to sit up even slightly.

“There she is.” A familiar voice murmurs. It’s soft, comforting, but also incredibly far away. “Hey, lovie.”

“Kyle?” You croak. You might as well be speaking around a massive ball of cotton. There’s something hot and wet streaming down your face. Are you crying?

“You’re alright.” He murmurs, soothing down your hair. Petting you like a dog in pain. An injured, feral animal.

You collapse back on the bed - not that you made it that far in the first place - unable to see more than a few feet in front of you. Kyle, really. Kyle is all you can make out. His face so vivid you’re sure you could draw it from memory. “Where am I?”

He pauses. “…Your room.”

“M’chest hurts…”

“I know, lovie. We’ll make it better.”

“What’d y’do t’me…?” Your vision flashes in and out. You’re going back under, as hard as you try to fight it. The edge just comes closer. You teeter on your heels.

“You just breathed in some bad air. You’ve been out for… a while.” Somehow, you get the sense that what he says is an understatement. That there are layers he has to hold back. Simon said four, you remember, though you can’t quite define if that was real or a dream.

“I hate you.” You whisper, barely audible. “I hate all of you.”

“I know.” Kyle sighs, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. “I know.”

Teeth sink into you. A choked gasp escapes your lips, body stiffening and hands knotting into some thick cloth. The pain is searing but fleeting. A part of you, the present part of you, feels disgusted. Wants to shake and batter whatever parasite has you caught in its maw. Another part, a far more distant piece of you that you aren’t even sure is you, blossoms with warmth. You melt into the strong arms that hold you against a cool chest.

“John?” You murmur. Or, rather, this other you murmurs.

A low groan reverberates from his chest to yours. Your head gets lighter, vision fuzzy around the edges. A hand clamps over the bloodied parts of your neck. Your vision fractures, partially the scene in front of you and partially the ceiling of your room that isn’t your room. Your lashes flutter and you’re back loosely straddling John’s lap.

“Yes, love?” He pants, mouth and teeth stained red. It sends a wave of panic through your veins.

You swallow roughly. “I don’t-”

Something shatters - the staccato sound reverberating through the apartment.

You startle, sitting up and throwing your blankets back. The bed is empty, room dark except for the few embers trapped in the fireplace off to the side. You don’t notice the box missing from your dresser.

“Hello?” You frown, standing and moving toward your door as if possessed by some external force. As if you at all know where you are going. Your bare feet pad quietly against the hard wood, door silently sliding open a fraction.

There’s another smashing sound. Your heart rate spikes, fear coursing through your veins. No one’s home - they left days ago. On business.

How do you know that?

Suddenly you’re in the living room of the apartment, crouched behind the couch and groping underneath for one of the silver daggers stashed around in various hiding spots. An insurance policy. Your breath comes in short, rapid gasps. You have to get out. Get downstairs. There’s security down there. They’ll help you, they know you.

How do they know you? How did you know the knife was there?

With the small dagger gripped tightly in your fist, you flinch at another smash. It came from John’s room across the apartment, another following right after. It sounds like this person (or people) tore his metal bed-frame apart. Splintered into pieces.

You take the opportunity to carefully move toward the front exit, allowing the noise to cover the sound of your movements. Damn the open concept design. You told John you didn’t like it. Breaths come in faster and shallow. You’re not built for running - too soft from all that pampering. A chubby, well loved pet. Not that you’re complaining. It’s just not the best for this particular moment.

A figure moves at lightening speed from John’s room to Kyle’s. You duck down behind the kitchen counter, covering your mouth to stifling the sound of your breath.

“I can smell ya.” A low voice taunts, echoing through the apartment. Fortunately, your scent is everywhere. It will take longer to distinguish where you are in particular than he may think.

Why is your scent everywhere again?

There’s more tearing and smashing. A door groans loudly as the intruder tears it off the hinges. More shattering. Your heart breaks a little - that must have been Kyle’s pottery. Oh he worked so hard on those. Some of them are from a century ago.

Anger begins to boil up your spine. Who is this fuck who thinks he can just wreck your home? Someone you know, for sure. He would have had to be invited in at some point. With a sneer you continue making your way through the penthouse, toward the front door. John’s going to rip this fucker in two when he gets back.

Except, just as you’re reaching for the front door, the vampire exits Kyle’s room. You meet his eyes - glinting in the dark of the hall. There’s barely a beat before you begin to rush, opening the door as fast as you can.

Not fast enough, of course. You’re only human, after all.

A scream rips it’s way through your throat as you connect with the far wall, knife clattering who knows where. Something broke, you’re not sure what. Every nerve ending seems to light on fire as you try to sit up. Your arm doesn’t move more than a twitch when you try to stand.

“Hey there, little girl.” The man pins you suddenly. You get the nagging sense that you know him, his name on the tip of your tongue. Buried somewhere under lock and key in your mind.

You thrash, punching at his chest and tearing at his hair. To no avail, of course. He just lets you, a cruel grin spreading wider and wider the harder you try to get away.

“What do you want!” You finally sob, going limp when your body finally gives out under pain and exertion.

“To destroy John’s coven. Obviously.” He huffs. “Yer step one.”

The vampire grabs your jaw in an iron grip, your teeth crack under the pressure as his pupils dilate. They’re bright - so blue and infinite and you can’t look anywhere else no matter how hard you try.

A clarity washes over you almost violently as you come to - like breaking through the surface of water after staying under too long. Everything from yo ur time under washing away, sinking back into the deep. A forgotten wreckage - old and twisted and grown over. Another lost Atlantis somewhere in the depths of your mind.

“John?” The name falls from your lips before you even realize you’re speaking, before his face comes into focus. Soft and familiar - comforting and enraging.

“Right here, dove.” He murmurs, dabbing your face with something damp and cool.

“Wh…” You swallow roughly, not entirely sure what you even want to say. So any words threaten to spill from your lips and yet your mind feels blank. All fuzz and static.

You want to beg him to let you go. To keep you forever. To tell you why he brought you here despite the ever nagging sense that you know why. Something deep in your marrow that connects you to this place - to these men - at the very soul. You are theirs and they are yours and you want nothing more than to run from them as far as you can go.

Those blue eyes focus on yours, so oddly gentle for all of their inhuman qualities. “We’ll talk when you’re better, okay?”

Talk about what? There isn’t anything to talk about. You don’t know them and they don’t know you, no matter what that tugging in your chest tells you. You’ve lied to yourself before - you’ve lied to others before - surely you’re just doing it again. This man hurt you. Marked you, whatever that means, so why do you still melt into his touch?

Your name falls from his lips, reverent and frightening. You blanch, eyes wide and mouth falling open. You didn’t tell him that. You didn’t-

“Just sleep for now, yeah?”

~~~

John watches intently as you fall back asleep. There was panic in your eyes for a moment, but your sick body can’t do much more than drift in an out of consciousness. You look more peaceful this time, at least, your breathing even and your body still. You’d been thrashing before, for what reason he isn’t sure. The lower city’s poison air does a number on the body, it’s effects only growing worse as time goes on and the pollution becomes more dense.

He did that, didn’t he? He left you and now you’re sick and hurt. John runs his fingers over the Mark, nearly entirely healed now. Just two small, faded marks that will follow you to the grave.

“I’m so sorry. I just keep failing you, don’t I?” He sighs. You always said he was a good man even when he didn’t believe it. Even with all the things he’s done. Would you still agree?

John‘s eyes sting. He’d be crying if he was human, surely.

He glances at the door. The others are out - taking care of business while he watches over you. The world doesn’t stop even when you need it to desperately. It took Johnny and Kyle nearly dragging Simon away to leave you alone with him.

He takes your hands in his, guilt wrecking him. They’re so much smaller, so much warmer. He can feel your pulse in every fingertip. Surely he’s ruined any chance to fix this before they could even try. He wouldn’t blame Simon if the man decided there needed to be a change - that John needs to be removed. He wouldn’t fight it.

John crawls into bed beside you like he’s done so many times before. Nestles under your pink silken sheets - the ones you picked out for Christmas. That was years go, now. Over two. Two tortorous, draining years that felt longer than the past six hundred.

He ran for days. Weeks maybe. Tearing through the city block by block, dodging and weaving between people and buildings alike. Speaking to anyone, using up every connection and resource he ever gained under this damned dome. It took a week to get through the sewer system.

No one knew where you went.

No one heard a thing. At least, nothing they would admit to. Even under compulsion.

You were gone, just like that.

Two years go by in the blink of an eye for a vampire. Might as well be a day, a night, a handful of hours. Time in such small increments is nothing to an immortal. Decades are barely enough to measure with. Not for them, though. Every second drug on. The days were long and tense.

A fracture formed between them. Kyle retreated into himself - quiet and frayed around the edges. Sometimes John caught him with a far away look in his eye, staring at nothing. He thinks Kyle would have been crying in those moments if he could. Johnny became far too unpredictable. Ripping and tearing any lower level vampire he can find. He spent a few months hunting Frenzies in the lower city without contact.

And Simon…

Simon turned into a fucking nightmare.

After the first year, they at least hoped to find your body. After the second anniversary of your disappearance came around, they gave up. The guilt of giving up brought a whole new wave of grief on them. Johnny laid in your bed for weeks, nearly beginning to petrify as he denied any blood. John couldn’t blame him, opting to re-read your favorite books with shaking hands. Simon fished your last knitting project, eyes heavy and tired. Kyle meandered listlessly through the house, sometimes laying with Johnny but most often sequestering himself in the now empty greenhouse.

They try to fill the hole with pretty girls that look sort of like you. Never enough and they never act like you. Too busy placating to snap at them like you were so willing to do. These others are only place fillers - something to take up the space you left between them. They could never truly fill it, though. It was far too great. A chasm that continues to swallow the four of them whole.

He’s so tired. The others were, too. Kate handled business well enough but their involvement was still required. Each issue and event weighing on them more and more. Kingpins of the city and they’ve been nearly ruined by the loss of a single girl. A single, human girl. None of it mattered in the face of what they lost.

John looks up, the pin-drop silence in the room bringing his attention back to the present.

And there you are.

Like Lazarus returned. An angel bathed in low, red light. Your hair spills around your shoulders framing that face he knows so well, one he’s held more times than he can count. A face that made him pray to a god he does not believe in every day to get back. Just once. Those unmistakable pearls grace your neck, the ruby latch glinting as you twist your neck and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be your Companion tonight.” You say so softly. Almost the way you used to, laid up in his bed, whispering about nothing and everything with your fingers running through his hair. Asking about the things he’s seen with such awe.

“What happened t’ Cherry?” Kyle asks faux casually. John can feel the tension in the man next to him. He’s feeling it out - always so good at that. Better at human subtleties than the rest of them. His dark eyes sparkle, though, with a light John hasn’t seen in so long. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You slide the tray onto the table. You look the same. You sound the same. There’s a few new scars, some scratches here and there. A wariness in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Damage done to your skin that could only come from the lower city air.

Where have you been?

You shift nervously. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” John says far too quickly, smiling despite himself. It might not even be you. Maybe a doppelganger. A distant relative. A clone is more plausible. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” And oh, John is sure his dead heart comes back to life. It is you. It has to be.

“Fittin’.” Johnny says, eyes raking over you. He might as well be vibrating, struggling to keep himself held back from yanking you into his hold.

They’re all measuring you up the same way he is. Feeling for anything unfamiliar. Outside of your distant, distrustful gaze with a lack of recognition that makes his chest ache, it’s you. It’s all you.

“Do you know who we are?” Simon murmurs. You’re having trouble looking at him, only meeting his gaze in small glances. Not so different from when they first met you. You and Simon have always had a certain… connection. Not that you weren’t all close - that they all didn’t love you deeply - but you and Simon had an understanding. He wonders if you can still feel it somewhere, deep down in the back of your mind.

You’re panicking a little, eyes flitting between their faces. John’s heart sinks. He feels it in the others. A deep disappointment - a turbulent melancholy- seeping into their bodies. You don’t know them. You don’t recognize a single one of them.

It’s all gone.

“It’s not a trick question.” Kyle says gently, ever one to soothe.

“No, sir.”

John’s heart breaks all over again.

A/N: My initial summary for this one was just “Fancy tripping balls on pollution while John and co. have a meltdown”

[woundedoves]

How They Would Suck Your Blood: Vampires (Arlecchino, Neuvillette, Blade, Aventurine x GN!Reader) Headcanons Part 1 (NSFW) part 2 part 3

a/n: this took so long to write but im kind of satisfied with it… should i make this a series…

CW: biting, blood play, self deprecating sentiments in Blade’s part, the reader is a switch on Aventurine’s part they bottom for the rest. Not proofread!

Arlecchino

• Whenever she’s in need she simply seeks you out, her nose is especially keen to your smell, and your heartbeat is as easy to find as blinking, you’re so familiar to her that she can find you in 2.3 seconds. Her expression won't change but a small, pleasant feeling blooms in her stomach when she sees the sight of you in her bed, if you’re sleeping, she gives your chin a little scratch to wake you up, looking up at her with tired eyes as she feels your pulse quickening, how cute.

• She likes to have you on her lap the most, the way you squirm as her claws slowly drift towards your crotch, smirking slightly as she feels your already aroused sex, just by being on her lap. Adorable.

• She first grabs your hand after she’s done teasing your sex, and kisses it as gently as she can, her kisses trail up to your neck, giving it one last kiss as she bites down, the sensation has you shivering and pushing your ass onto her crotch as she lets out a satisfied hum. Arlecchino loves the bitter taste of your blood, it isn’t too sweet like how the majority of vampires like it, loves the sting on her tastebuds as she feeds on you; the only thing she lets herself indulge in.

• She also loves feeding on your thighs, oh so graciously working her tongue on your sex as her claws grab and fondles your thighs shamelessly, satisfied as you moan and your thighs quiver in her grip.

• She bites down on your thigh and stops her eyes as they threaten to roll back with euphoria, that bitter taste hitting her tongue as she lets out a heavy breath, your thighs flexing as she runs her claws up and down to soothe you, you watch through half-lidded eyes as she feasts on you. The feeling is ever so orgasmic as you feel yourself getting closer, cumming with a soft gasp as she pulls away from you, some of it getting on her chin. Your eyes widen as you apologize profusely, only to feel hornier when she swipes it off on her fingers and sucks on them; keeping eye contact with you.

Neuvillette

• He only seeks you out semi-comfortably after you’ve been together for at least a year, doesn’t want to impose anything on you, and he doesn’t want you to think he only sees you as food. Even when you smell so good, bounce on his cock while he lets out little whimpers as he feels his claws coming out and his teeth itch his stomach churning with hunger.

• He really wants to hear you cry as he presses his cold body on yours, for you to scream as he bites down, and wants to have you on his cock as he feeds on you, it makes him feel animalistic and ashamed. It’s only when you bring up the topic yourself one day as you two are getting ready for bed, a rare occasion you want to make use of as you tell him that it’s okay, you’re lovers, whatever he needs you’re willing to provide him with it. He slowly sits beside you as he takes your hand in his own, his claws already out as he’s relaxed and needs no reason to hide. He looks into your eyes with anticipation and nervousness, his pretty features twisted with guilt as he asks, “are you genuinely, absolutely, with no doubts…sure about this, beloved?” You smile softly as you nod, “of course, dearest. I wouldn’t suggest it if I were not certain about the matter. I want to know watch and every part of you,” he lets out a breath as he pulls you into a deep kiss, his arms situating themselves on your hips as he lets out a breathy moan into your kiss, already hard and ready to show you all of him.

• He gently lays you down on your shared bed, kissing your neck softly as he undresses you slowly, making you let out a soft gasp that derails into a moan as his fangs graze your skin. He bites down as gently as he can as you cling onto his arms, crying out his name as his fangs pierce your flesh, your body inching upwards towards him as you feel his claws on your ass, keeping you in place. You let out quick breaths as your chest heaves with arousal and adrenaline, it feels so good. Holy shit, how and why does this feel so fucking good?

• He pulls his fangs out slowly as he tries to stabilize his breathing, looking down on your quivering form as he watches the blood trickle down from where he bit down, lapping it up like a starved puppy as he closes his eyes. Your blood tastes so sweet to him, like a fontanian dessert. He peppered your neck with kisses as he pulled his cock out, both of you too horny for prep as he swipes some of the blood from the bite mark with his claws. He gasps softly, entering your tight warm hole; making your body shiver with arousal as you feel his cold cock inside you.

• Both of your moans and the sounds of him pounding his fat cock inside you fill the room as you tell him to feed again, which takes him 2 seconds of consideration as he bites down on your chest, right on your nipple as you pull on his hair with a whine; feeling his cock throb inside you as he feasts on your body.

Blade

• It takes him so much convincing and reassurance to make him feed on you, feeling like a piece of shit as he does so and yet, getting addicted to the taste of you. He feels his fangs twitch as he sees you fresh out of the shower, water still sticking to your body as he feels his cock strain against the fabric of his pants, cursing internally when you look at him and get that teasing look on your face.

• He’s silent as his eyes are focused on your body growing closer, slowly letting the towel drop as you sit on his lap, capturing his lips in a slow yet sensual kiss as you feel his hands hesitantly yet slowly grip your thighs as he lets out a quiet moan inside your mouth. You grind your hips on his crotch as you feel his hard-on, he’s hungry too, you can tell.

• You pull away from the kiss as you undo the zipper of his pants and let his cock out, he looks away in embarrassment as you just grind down on it, not putting it inside you; making him look at you by tapping his chin, “c’mon pretty boy, you’re hungry aren’t you?” you tease as he groans and kisses your neck as gently as he can, his cock twitching when he hears you moan as his fangs graze your skin, biting down as he grinds your ass down on his cock, making you whine at the different sensations, letting him drink as much as he likes; he’d never hurt you anyways.

• He likes to drink blood from your fingers the most actually, and loves sucking on them as you moan while he pumps his fingers in and out of your hole; getting you all relaxed and ready for him.

• Every time he feels a tinge of regret when he’s done with feeding on you, always buys the sweets you personally like. He tried to bake for once and almost burnt down the kitchen, so that’s never happening again.

• You tell him it is just his nature and that it’s actually very pleasurable for you when he feeds on you, only then does the guilt slowly wither away as he lets himself indulge in your body, your comfort, things he doesn’t deserve but selfishly takes anyway even if you tell him you want him forever; he can’t let himself hurt you, you’d never see him again, for your own good. Right now though, you won’t let him think about all of that as you clench around his cock, whining for him to fuck you faster, so he does. His thoughts calm for a short time as he feels his cock throb inside you, his tongue and teeth stained with your blood.

Aventurine

• He’s not ashamed about it so much, it’s in his nature, he has to drink blood to survive; he’s seen ‘normal’ humans do way worse for pure entertainment, so he just tells you straight up when he’s hungry, and if you’d be comfortable with him feeding on you. When you do give him your consent that’s when the real fun begins.

• You fuck into him with your cock/strap as he feeds on you, arms wrapped around you as he loses himself in the taste of your blood and the feel of your length inside him, he feels so fucking full. You cry out as his fangs pierce a bit deeper in his desperation, you see the way his cock throbs as you speed up your thrusts, hitting his prostate over and over again as he closes his eyes and continues to suck your blood; you see his dick twitch a few more times as he cums with a muffled whine, coating both of your bellies with his cum as he rolls his hips so he can feel you deeper.

• He coats his fingers with your blood when he pulls away, if you have a dick, takes both of them in his hand as he watches the way your pre-cum and blood mix together; the sensation of his cock throbbing against you making you whine his name as he coos and kisses the corner of your mouth, leaving a faint bloody lip print on your skin.

• If you have a cunt, he loves eating you out right after he pulls away from biting you, moaning into your cunt as he thrusts his tongue inside you; his chin dripping with your cum and blood as he eats you out like you’re the sweetest dessert that has ever graced his tongue.

• He doesn’t eat regular food that much but when you make it and add a drop or two of your blood on it he’s scarfing it down, he loves your blood so fucking much, He’s fed on other people but fuck, your taste is so unique it has his cock throbbing and his brain numb as he feeds on you; like a drug.

• His prized person, his everything, has no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

[cece693]

Touch Starved (Edward Cullen x M! Vamp Reader)

Summary: You were touch starved and didn't mind it. However, not everybody was fine with it. Your mate found it frustrating, especially when this distance caused rumors to swirl.

tags: reader doesn't care about touch, Edward does, rumors, students creating drama, needy Edward

Touch had never been a necessity for you. Even before you were turned, physical closeness felt redundant. You didn’t need to be held or touched to know you were cared for. Love, to you, was a state of being, a quiet understanding, not something proven through gestures or physical contact. The presence of someone you loved—just standing with them in comfortable silence—was enough.

When you became a vampire, this aspect of you didn’t just remain—it intensified. Your heightened senses transformed every little detail into something overwhelming. The smell of a distant forest, the vibrations of life beneath the ground, the heartbeat of a creature miles away, all became vivid. But touch? Touch became unnecessary, intrusive even. Feeling every texture, every pore, every slight imperfection was a reminder of how alien you’d become. Instead of comfort, it brought only awareness of your distance from the human experience.

For a long time, it didn’t matter. When you joined the Cullen family, they learned quickly that casual touch wasn’t your thing. You preferred your own space, your hands often resting quietly in your pockets or folded loosely in front of you. They respected that. Alice, of course, was the exception. Her constant, affectionate touches were something you tolerated, knowing it was how she expressed herself. You didn’t need it, but you didn’t mind it, either. It was Alice. That was different.

But Edward was different too.

Edward was tactile, always reaching out to touch you, needing that physical connection to feel reassured. For him, it wasn’t just affection—it was an anchor, a way to feel grounded in your relationship. He needed the brush of your fingers, the warmth of your hand, the brief press of your shoulder against his. It was how he knew you still loved him, still wanted him. You understood that about Edward, and for the most part, you tried to accommodate him. Even if it didn’t come naturally to you, you wanted him to feel secure.

But over time, your calm detachment, your natural tendency to pull away from physical intimacy, began to stir whispers at school. You had always been composed, quiet, and serene—never one to make a fuss or draw attention to yourself. To the students, your cool distance with Edward was misread as disinterest, something they couldn’t help but gossip about.

"He doesn’t even look at Edward anymore."

"They’re never together—he’s always with Alice. Have you noticed that?"

"I don’t think he’s into him anymore. Relationships fall apart, you know?"

And those whispers, those rumors, fed into something larger. It didn’t take long for people to start trying to test the waters to see if maybe there was truth to the rumors. Jessica Stanley was the first.

"Hey," she had said one afternoon, leaning against your locker, flashing you an overly friendly smile. "If you ever need someone new to talk to, I’m always here."

Her words didn’t register much with you; you'd barely glanced at her. You weren’t irritated or amused—just indifferent. Jessica, like the others, was human. Temporary. It was a passing moment, one that would dissolve as quickly as it came. You saw no need to correct her or give her a second thought. You knew the truth, and that was enough.

But Edward, standing across the hallway, heard everything. He heard the thoughts that accompanied Jessica’s smile, her hopes that maybe, just maybe, she could wedge herself between the two of you. He heard the other students, too—the boys who lingered near you, the girls who whispered when you walked past. It weighed on him more than you realized.

He never let it show but you could feel it. Even if you weren’t one for touch, you could sense the quiet tension building in Edward. He wasn’t just hearing the rumors; he was internalizing them, letting them feed into his own insecurities. His need for physical closeness became a silent plea, something you recognized but didn’t fully understand until much later.

That night, Edward finally spoke.

"Doesn’t it bother you?" he asked, his voice calm, but edged with frustration. You were in your shared room, the darkness outside framing him as he stood by the window, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt.

You looked up from your book, your expression placid, as always. "What do you mean?"

"The students," Edward continued, pacing slowly. "The rumors. They think we’re falling apart, that you don’t care about me anymore."

You tilted your head. "They’re just rumors. Why do they matter?"

Edward’s golden eyes flashed with a frustration you weren’t used to seeing in him. "It’s not about them. It’s about us. They think I’m losing you. That I’m not enough. And then, when I see them trying to—”

"You know that’s not true," you interrupted, your voice soft. "You know how I feel."

"I do," Edward murmured, running a hand through his hair, his movements sharp with tension. "But hearing it—hearing them think about taking you, seeing how you pull away when I reach out—it’s like I’m losing you. Like you don’t need me."

You exhaled slowly, realizing how deeply this had been bothering him. You loved Edward deeply, more than anyone else, and you believed that your bond would be enough. Hell, he could read your thoughts—how they never strayed far from him—and yet, even that wasn’t enough. He needed to feel it, to experience it in a way you had always found unnecessary.

"I don’t need touch to feel close to you," you said gently. "But I understand that you do. And that matters to me."

Edward’s shoulders loosened slightly, but you could see the residual tension in his posture. "It’s just…I need to know that you still want me. That I’m still important to you."

"I’ve never stopped wanting you," you replied, stepping closer, your calm, steady presence meeting Edward’s anxious energy. You slowly reached out, brushing your fingers along his arm, letting the touch linger, even though it wasn’t something you needed. But you knew Edward did. His eyes closed for a brief moment, and you could see him relax under your touch.

"I’ll try," you said softly. "I’ll try for you."

The next day, at school, you made an effort. You didn’t flinch or pull away when Edward’s hand brushed yours in the hallway. At lunch, when your shoulders touched, you didn’t lean away. It wasn’t dramatic, just subtle adjustments. But Edward noticed, and so did the students. Jessica’s glances faded, and the other boys who had started to hover around you backed off.

For you, the need for touch would always be secondary. It wasn’t how you measured your love, and it never would be. But for Edward, it was everything. And for that reason alone, you would keep trying.

[dark-tides-in-faerun]

I have poor blood circulation and on cold nights look like a stereotypical vampire. Could you write a humorous, SFW fic of someone seeing Tav's bite marks and pale complexion and telling Astarion to keep his bloodsucking friend on a tight leash? (Tav can be GN or female, either work for me).

Thank you so much for requesting ilysm! So I realized that I’ve never written anyone in a fit of laughter before (possibly for a reason LOL) but here’s my best attempt 🧡

The Vampire in the Tavern

sfw Astarion x you story!

Astarion is angry.

He’d finally managed to get you to himself, a night at last without the others vying for your attention, and some peasant woman keeps looking over at you from the bar, dark eyes sliding up your body in a way that he knows all too well.

It’s possessive. It’s proprietary. And it’s pissing him off. 

It had started as just mildly irritating, a glance here and there. But she’d been at it for at least an hour now, and not only does that wretch have no right to eye up his partner, but the implication that she finds you more appealing than she does him is vexing. Extremely vexing. And it doesn’t seem to matter how many times Astarion touches you. How many times his fingers lightly graze the line of your jaw or brush against your hand, that godsforsaken woman won’t stop staring.

And you’ve not noticed, of course. For a formidable warrior and your party’s fearless leader, your lack of awareness of your surroundings is astounding, especially where Astarion is concerned. It’s a trait that exasperates and exhilarates him in equal measure. He could do without it on the battlefield, but in a social setting, he delights in it. The way that just catching your eye can cause words to die on your lips, whatever conversation you’d been in briefly forgotten with just a little glance from him. He slips his hand a little higher up your thigh just to prove it to himself, and when your breath catches in response, he smiles.

If only that bloody woman would stop staring, this had the beginnings of a very promising night indeed.

You clear your throat, cheeks flushed and put both hands on the table, pushing yourself to your feet. Astarion frowns but you shoot him an apologetic smile that’s meant to reassure and it does, sinking through his skin and warming his unbeating heart. It’s adorable.

“I’ll be right back. Nature calls.” You say, by way of explanation, and though you’re trying to keep your voice steady, he can hear your desire, thick and sweet as it sticks in your throat. Delicious.

“I’ll be waiting, my sweet.” He lets the words fall from his lips in a way that’s sultry and intentional, staring up at you from beneath dark eyelashes, and you actually shiver. Astarion grins, delighted with himself, as you flush and turn away. His eyes dart back to the woman, and his grin dies on his lips, mood immediately souring again as her beady little eyes fix on you as you make your way to the bathroom.

The absolute fucking audacity.

You see the cords in her throat working as she swallows, biting her lip, and the she does something even more audacious than simply looking at you. As soon as the latrine door swings shut behind you, she rises to her feet and starts to walk over to the table.

Astarion glares up at her, not bothering to hide his irritation, as she comes to a halt at the edge of the booth. She looks uneasy, calloused fingers pulling at the threads of her road worn shirt, and Astarion swears that if she so much as asks for your name he’s going to rip her throat out where she stands, witnesses be damned.

She hovers for a moment, not speaking, and that serves to only annoy him more.

“Yes?” his voice is tight and cold, and she flinches at the harshness. Good.

“I-I’m sorry to interrupt you sir, but…” She trails off into silence and he grinds his teeth.

“Yes, well how sorry can you truly be, given that you have interrupted me.” He snaps and Astarion frowns as he realises that she’s actually shivering. What in the nine hells. He knows that you’re good looking, but this is a bit much. “Come on then, spit it out. I haven’t got all night.”

“I… I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just – I couldn’t in good conscience sit by.” She says and he raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink. A strange way to approach the topic of wanting to snatch his date from him, but at least it was a start. “Sir, you’re in grave danger.”

He splutters, spitting wine over the table in a most undignified way as she stares back at him, wide eyed and fearful.

“I’m sorry, what?” He manages, when he stops choking long enough to speak. His voice is too loud, and the people at the next table look over, but it’s like he’s lost control of his faculties. This is not how this conversation was meant to go.

“It’s true, sir, and there’s not much time. You must leave, now.”

“And might I ask why?” he asks, incredulously, and then immediately recoils in disgust as the woman shoots a fearful glance in the direction of the latrines and slips into the booth beside him.

“That… thing that you’re with.” She whispers, and he has to fight the physical urge to push her away as she grabs his hand between hers. “It’s not a person. It’s a vampire.”

His mouth drops open, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t. The ridiculousness of this situation has actually rendered him speechless. She wasn’t staring at because she fancied you, she was staring because, because-

An uncontrollable feeling rises in his chest.

“You’re not serious.” He gasps, and his voice doesn’t even sound like him.

“Please sir, I’ve seen their kind before and it’s unmistakable. The pallor of the skin, the coldness of the touch.” She’s actually shaking now and it’s too much. He can smell the fear on her, the dampness of her palms as they press against his, the pounding of her blood as it courses through her veins. “They stalk these taverns looking for people to drain dry in alleyways, and that one has its sights set on you, I know it. You have to leave, now!”

He tries not to, he really does.

But he can’t help it.

He fucking cackles in her face.

“Fnnff.” He gasps, grabbing his hand away and covering his mouth, to try and stop the uncontrollable passage of the hysteria that’s flooding from his lips. “Excuse – snnf- e-excuse me.”

“This ain’t no laughing matter, that’s a vampire, in there, I’m sure of it.” The woman cries, wringing her hands, and she looks so earnest that he simply can’t.

“Hah!” He chokes, barely able to draw breath before the next giggle explodes out of him and the woman, for her part, looks appalled.

“I mean it, sir, you’re in danger.” She says, the first hint of annoyance seeping into her voice, and that just sets him off again. He crumples over on the table, hands digging into the wood so hard it buckles beneath his fingers. He almost feels sorry for every time he’s every used Tasha’s hideous laughter on someone, because this is bloody awful. His stomach hurts, tears are leaking from his eyes, but he still can’t stop. Of all the fucking accusations.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the door to the latrines swing open and you step back into the tavern. He turns to get a good look at you. To see the fearsome night stalker in the flesh, the unholy fiend that has this poor woman so terrified, and when he meets your eyes the expression in them is equal parts bemused and concerned and he fucking wheezes.

You, a vampire.

The woman spots you too, and she stumbles to her feet eyes wide and bright with fear. Astarion throws his head back and lets out a guffaw of laughter so loud and embarrassing that it’s almost enough to sober him, but unfortunately, it’s made you, the object of this woman’s abject terror, jump.

He can’t cope.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice is amused, but a little concerned and Astarion can barely nod as he clutches his stomach. He sees the woman’s eyes slide to your throat and the marks of his bite shine accusatorily back at her in the tavern light.

“Vampire.” She breathes, pointing at you, almost falling over herself as she backs away from them and Astarion collapses onto his side, tears streaming down his face as the woman shoots him one final, terrified look and then turns on her heels and flees into the night.

You stare after her, thoroughly confused now and Astarion is barely able to contain himself enough to move over to let you sit down.

“What in the hells was that about?” You ask, as you slip into the recently vacated spot and Astarion swallows down a giggle, barely able to breathe as he grins at you. It would appear his laughter is somewhat infectious, as you let out a little laugh of your own and touch his face with a bemused frown. And it’s only then that Astarion realizes just how much attention his little display has brought to you both. The people of the tavern are all staring at them and it’s not a friendly look. No doubt they heard the word ‘vampire’ and that, finally, is sobering enough for him to get himself under some semblance of self-control.

“That is a story not for here, my blood sucking friend.” He gasps, stifling another giggle as the look on your face is almost enough to set him off again. He nudges you gently out of the booth and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the tavern doors. “But don’t worry, if I manage to survive the journey in your company, I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to camp.”

[ninii-winchester]

Baby

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 630 words

Warnings: none.

A/n : this was better in my head but anyways.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The bunker door closed with a loud thud, Dean appeared in the war room with a bag in his hands. Y/n was throwing paper balls at Castiel in the library, while Sam was catching up on lore. The older Winchester’s boots thumped against the floor as he walked in the library.

“Whatcha doing fellas?” He asked leaning against a table.

“I’m being tortured.” Castiel said rolling his eyes, pointing towards Y/n.

“No you’re being a bitch, that doesn’t even hurt you.” Y/n retorted with a smirk.

“But it does happen to annoy me immensely.” The angel replied with sass.

Dean just shook his head with a small grin, knowing his girlfriend and best friend love play fighting. Sam had opted to tune out the pair of ‘kids’ until his brother arrived. His gaze dropped to the bag in Dean’s hands.

“What’s in there?” He questioned his older brother.

“Oh just a little something for my baby.” Dean shrugged with a smile.

“I wanna see.” Y/n said taking the bag from his hands and he willingly let her. She pulled out the item from inside the bag, the others watching with keen interest. Her face turned to one of confusion when she pulled it out. “Dean, this is a dress?” Her statement came out more like a question.

“Yeah and?” Dean asked equally confused.

“Now you might as well take her out for a candlelight dinner.” Cas commented with a straight face, which made Sam snort.

“I can do that. No big deal.” Dean replied with delight.

“Dean are you sure you’re okay?” Y/n questioned, her face showing concern. “This is absurd.”

“What’s is?”

“You really don’t think there’s anything wrong with buying a dress for a car?” She asked.

“No-” he said nonchalantly. “wait what?” His eyes widened. “You think I am some sort of freak who buys dresses for my car?”

“Might as well be.” Cas replied.

“You did say that’s something for baby.” Sam chimed in.

“I meant Y/n.” Dean replied his cheeks and ears turning red in embarrassment. Sam and Cas burst out laughing at his blushing face. It was a rare occasion when Dean Winchester got embarrassed. “Even you thought…” he trailed off looking at Y/n.

“It’s because you’ve never called me baby before.!” Y/n defended, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. Sure Dean has given her several nicknames over the years they’ve been together but he’s never called her ‘Baby’. It’s been reserved for the Impala.

“I’m outta here.” Dean said his face all flustered. He glared at his brother and best friend who were getting a kick out of the situation, walking down to the hallway.

“Dean c’mon.” Y/n said rushing behind him. “Don’t be a baby.” She teased and he turned to glare at her which made her purse her lips. “Alright I’m sorry. I won’t tease you again.” She said walking up to him and snaking her arms around his shoulders.

“You sure?” He asked tilting his head.

“Yeah promise. I love you too much.” She pecked his nose. “even if you’re a bit obsessed with your car.” She couldn’t help but add with a grin. Dean groaned dropping his head on her shoulder. She glanced at him with a mischievous grin. “So, do you love your car more than me?”

He looked at her, a playful glint in his eye. “Well, it’s hard to compete with a classic,” he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “I guess I’ll have to settle for being the second love of your life.”

He pulled her into a warm embrace. “Don’t worry, you’re first in everything that matters.” She smiled knowing she was the one who can make his heart race.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@suckitands33 @starkleila

[elliots-an-idiot]

Heloooooooo!🙌 How ya doing? I hope you’re having a *lovely* day! Seeing as you’re opening your inbox, I’m just gonna…leave this here ;)!

*leaves scroll*

What do you reckon the Dimis would think of forms of affection? Hand holding, kissing, cuddling, quality time, etc. do you think they’d approve of such displays in public, or just in the privacy of their room? A bit of good old fluff. Feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t take your pick!🙌

See ya :)!

🧁- anon

Hiii! This is an amazing ask :3 I love them so much and EAUGH I WANNA CUDDLE ALL OF THEM!!!! You said the dimis so I’m gonna include alcina :3 this is pure filthy fluff heheheheh :333

Content warning for minor (sfw) knife play. Also blood drinking…. They’re vampires.

The Dimitrescus preferences on affection with their s/o

Alcina 🍷

She enjoys being able to hold you, whether it’s on her lap while she works, or cuddled into her chest while you sleep.

Her hands are… well… gigantic. Which makes “regular” hand holding difficult. But she loves it when you intertwine your fingers with hers during particularly aggravating calls with Miranda.

She is, obviously, the big spoon. Which neither of you mind. She always holds you close to her while sleeping, she likes the feeling of protecting you. Shielding you from any dangers that may lurk outside of her arms.

She prefers to keep anything longer than a peck in private however. Unless of course, she’s showing someone that you’re hers. In which case you can expect to be lifted/pressed up against the nearest wall for her to make out with you.

She loves having her hair played with/her head scratched while laying with you, especially after a long/stressful day. She also likes having her back/shoulders massaged

She isn’t clingy like her daughters, but she loves being able to have you near her. When she’s working she likes to have you in her lap. You’re like a stress reliever to her.

She loves being able to lift and hug you, or lean down to press kisses to your head. She likes the way you look up at her after, it makes her feel like a goddess.

She loves it when you dance with her, you’ll often have dates in the castle, and her favourite place to bring you is always the opera hall. The two of you dance for hours, just basking in each others presence.

She always makes sure to reserve time in her day to be with you, no matter what. She even hung up on Miranda once after she “took too much of our time”

When she gets thirsty (not like that you horny bastard) she pulls you onto her lap and gently tilts your head to the side, she always peppers kisses down your throat before drinking from you.

She loves you so much, and makes sure you know that. Whether it be through words or actions, you always know how much you mean to her.

Some pet names she likes to use for you are dragâ (darling), iubire (love), little one, and pet.

Bela 📚

She, like her mother, loves having you with her while she works. She says your presence calms her during especially stressful days, your scent specifically helps.

She likes to have you on her lap, not during formal events or dinner of course. But when you’re reading together in the library she’ll pull you onto her and wrap her arms around you.

She loves it when you bury your head into the crook of her neck to press a gentle kiss to her throat, which normally leads to her squeaking and getting flustered. Only when you’re alone though, she thinks it’s “improper”.

She absolutely loves having her hair played with. Untangle her hair with your fingers? She’s a blushing mess.

She loves massages, getting them and giving them. You better believe homegirl is practically a professional at them.

She likes sitting next to you whenever possible, she always intertwines her fingers with yours. She loves being able to hold you, even if it’s subtle.

She has a busy schedule, to the point that she often forgets to eat. So when you walk into her office after a long day and offer up your neck? She practically melts, before hugging you tight and telling you how much you mean to her.

She normally hates giving you anything more than a gentle peck when in public, but please expect to be pushed up against the nearest surface as soon as you’re alone.

She loves it when you rest your head on her chest, or vice versa.

She’s bad with words, especially when you first start dating, but she always shows you how much she loves you. Her favourite way to do so is by taking care of you, bringing you a snack when she smells you getting hungry (blood sugar maybe?), or reading to you when you’re sad.

She loves calling you little one, darling, dragâ, and dove.

Cassandra ⚔️

Cassandra hates doing anything that could make her seem weak or soft in public. So hugs, hand holding, cuddling? Absolutely not.

She can and will push you up against the nearest wall to make out with you. She likes knowing that other people see, so that they know you belong to her.

But in private? You can’t convince me she wouldn’t love having her hair played with, and if you scratch her scalp? She will moan.

She’s not used to gentle displays of affection, especially at the beginning of your relationship. But after she warms up to it? She loves it, privately of course.

She especially enjoys having you sit in her lap while she’s sharpening her weapons. Often using your skin to test if they’re good enough, if she doesn’t smell blood as soon as she presses it up against you it’s not sharp enough.

She loves your blood, everything about it, so when she comes home from a particularly annoying hunt and finds you on her bed with your neck exposed for her? She growls before swarming right on top of you.

After drinking from you, she likes to lay on top of you and bury her face in your neck savouring your scent and taste.

Normally, if you’re alone, she likes to intertwine her fingers with yours or pull you onto her lap.

Shockingly, she’s incredibly clingy. Not so much as Dani, but still, very clingy. So if you’re especially busy or have to make a trip into town on any given day she’ll whine and complain until you get back.

She loves it when you trace her scars, she’ll often tell you the stories of how she “won” them to calm you down if you’re upset. She often tells you stories of her hunts, not only to introduce you to that part of her, but to analyse your expression for any hint of fear.

She often falls asleep on top of you, she likes how warm you are, and being able to protect you.

Cass is horrible with her words. Like. Horrible. Before you started dating she called you her blood bag… to flirt. She is b a d with expressing how much she loves you. So she shows you. She often kills maids who are rude to you and gifts you certain parts of them. After the fourth pair of eyes you had to explain to her organs weren’t exactly a gift you could keep. So she started bringing you teeth.

She likes calling you pet, little one, doll, morsel, snack,and (sigh) blood bag

Daniela 💌

She absolutely loves physical affection, and she truly doesn’t care what other people think. She constantly has to be touching you, or she will whine until she is.

Obviously, she’s the most clingy of her family, and the best cuddler. Like, are you sad? Bonk, Dani’s got ya.

You can’t convince me she wouldn’t love to sit in your lap to read, she loves it. She often reads aloud to you when you’re upset, and loves the same being done for her.

She loves it when you hold her, whether it be her hand, or her thigh, she constantly wants your hand on her.

She loves hugging you, like, absolutely loves it. She loves feeling your arms wrap around her and hold her to you, she says it makes her feel calm. I swear to the gods a hug from this girl could probably cure my depression.

She wants to spend as much time as physically possible with you every single day, which often leads to you not finishing your work.

When she’s particularly hungry, she loves pulling you against her before burying her head into the crook of your neck and inhaling as much of your scent as she can. She always marks you up before drinking from you, to show everyone you’re hers.

During the colder months, she enjoys nestling under a pile of blankets with you. Often giggling when you squeak at the feeling of her freezing hands against your sides.

She loves kissing you, it doesn’t matter to her who sees, all that she cares about if being able to feel your lips on hers.

She loves being treated like a princess, bow for her or twirl her? She is squealing and giggling in delight.

She loves spending time with you while reading, but, (when it’s warm enough out for her to go outside) she often drags you out to the garden to make flower crowns together.

She loves sleeping curled into you, with her arm flung around your waist and her head buried in your shoulder.

She like calling you more cheesy and romantic pet names, and expects the same from you. She calls you things like my love, dearest, sweetheart, little human, and her Knight. (If you call her princess she will melt)

That’s all! I hope you like this :3 thank you for my first ever ask :3