#easy pickings for the great predators.

[orcelito]

6.5hr in the car was rough. But I'm all bundled in my beddie bye and I have the box fan going (so glad I thought to bring it) and the view outside the cabin is beautiful and I'm going ziplining tomorrow morning

It is time to sleep bundled like a rat in its bedding and then have a wonderful day tomorrow

[bunnis-monsters]

Yandere wolf breeding willing bunny reader😚

He couldn’t help but take you away to his den after seeing you all alone, your fluffy bunny ears twitching from the cold.

You had lost your way, separated from your fellow bunny hybrids and had been fending for yourself for nearly a week now.

At first you had been waiting, sure that the others would return to save you… but winter was approaching, and as snow started fall, you realized they wouldn’t jeopardize themselves to help you.

Now, you were trying your best to prepare for winter all by yourself. It was no easy task, your fat barely able to keep you from freezing as you scavenged.

Nothing was growing anymore, and all the other hybrids had long since barricaded themselves in their own homes.

The wolf hybrid had been out on a hunt when he spotted you. He had followed your scent and was ready to pounce, but one look had him ready to pounce on you in a very different way.

You were a chubby little thing, your cotton tail wagging as you shivered and bent over to pick up sticks for a fire. He could see your plump ass and fat thighs, your hips perfectly wide. The wolf could already imagine breeding a litter of pups into your sweet, fat bunny cunt.

He planned on using his size and your species innate fear of predators to scare you into coming with him… but went differently than he had expected.

“Hello, little one.”

You jumped at the sound of a deep voice behind you, squeaking before scurrying away. He caught you easily, holding onto on of you ears. “Slow down, bunny.”

When you finally turned to look at him, instead of screaming or pleading for him to spare your life, you teared up and wrapped your arms around him.

“D-did you come to help me?”

This made him pause. You were looking up at him with the cutest teary eyes, your chubby cheeks warm and covered in tears. He was going to reply, but you were already opening his jacket so you could burrow into it, making sweet little purrs as you snuggled him.

“Warm…”

Feeling your chubby body press against him was both comforting, and made his cock twitch in his pants. At that movement, he decided that you were his completely, discarding any thoughts of devouring you that he lingered.

“What’s a chubby little bunny like you doing out here during winter, hmm?”

He cupped your cheek, pinching it gently. He had to be careful with his sharp claws, making sure not to pierce your chubby flesh.

“M-my… my colony… they left me behind…”

Your voice was shaky, and he could feel tears soaking into his shirt. That was all he needed to hear.

With one swift movement, he scooped you up and carried you to his den, already rubbing his scent into your soft neck. Claiming you was the only thing on his mind, and he honestly wanted to mount you the second you were inside his den…

But you were cold, tired, and hungry…

He was already attached, watching you munch on some stew he prepared with great interest. The way your chubby cheeks puffed out as they filled up with food, how you sighed in happiness as you finally filled your belly after a week of barely eating… it all made him fall further in love.

His obsession was growing, and he was determined to have you all to himself.

You slept in the furs he prepared for you, so innocent and trusting. The urge to pounce on your sleeping body then and there did surface, but he pushed it away.

You were a sweet little thing, and he felt an ache in his chest when he thought about you looking at him with fear instead of the soft, thankful look you gave him.

Never before had someone instantly attached themselves to him, willingly curling up by his side and even grooming him. You slept with him every night, the two of you sharing warmth as winter came.

His sweet bun became so much more than something he wanted to fuck, he loved you with all of his heart. Everyday that passed only cemented his feelings, you were now his ray of sunshine that kept him warm during the cold, harsh winter.

So when you got ready to leave when spring came, he couldn’t have that.

“Thank you for taking care of me…”

You were hugging him, your little cotton tail wagging furiously as you softly groomed him in a sign of affection. God, he could hold you forever. Your scent was like a drug for him, making him feel woozy and needy.

“I’m sorry I took up so many of your resources… I won’t bother you any longer.”

Before you could leave, he grabbed your wrist and growled lowly, his nose burying itself in your neck.

“W-what are y-“

He placed hot kisses along your neck, nipping at your collarbone, his warm fanning against your skin. “You think you were a bother, little one? If you were a bother, I would have eaten you.”

He wasn’t surprised when you just tilted your head, your chubby cheeks warming up. You were such a sweet, innocent thing. “Really? Then… did you… like me being here?”

The wolf laughed, his chest vibrating against your back. “Oh, my sweet little rabbit… I could barely hold myself back from claiming you all winter long.”

You blinked, looking up at him in adoration, your eyes so soft and warm. God, he wanted to protect that innocence of yours… but he also desired you so carnally that he couldn’t wait to be inside of you.

“Claim me? Y-you wanna be my mate?”

He tilted up your chin, purring softly as his thumb brushed over your plump lips. “Desperately.”

Your lips met his in a hot, needy kiss. It was almost instant, the way he had you pinned down and half naked. You moaned into his mouth as he groped your breast, pinching your nipples with a bit too much force.

“Mmph!”

You squirmed a little, feeling his hand slipping into your panties to play with your fat bunny cunt, two fingers already moving in and out of you. It felt so strange, you’d never had someone touch you there before…

“How cute…”

He purred in delight, watching your eyes grow fuzzy and teary as he pushed you over the edge, his thumb rubbing your clit to help you cum.

Your first orgasm felt like fireworks going off in your belly, your hips bucking uncontrollably. His sweet little bunny, crying out and writhing under him was certainly a sight to behold.

His fat cock rested on your pussy, and you looked at it in awe. It was huge, you’d seen another bunny hybrid’s dick once or twice when they’d try to court you, but it didn’t compare to the wolf’s.

It looked so thick and red, and the way he was looking down at your little bunny cunt looked like a predator ready to devour its prey.

He quickly mounted you, his cheeks red and eyes hazy.

As the tip pressed against your tight hole, you whimpered, holding onto him. You didn’t complain or move away because you wanted to be a good mate for him… but he could tell you were afraid.

“Hush, little one. I won’t hurt you…”

He licked your cheek, nuzzling against you in an attempt to comfort you as he started to push into you.

You cried and held onto him, your plump thighs resting on his hips as he bottomed out. He couldn’t help it, immediately starting to fuck into your fat pussy, unable to stop himself.

The sounds of squelching, your squeals and moans could be heard from the den. You were so tight, he couldn’t stand it! He gripped your plump hips, eager to knot his pretty little mate.

You yelped as you were turned onto your tummy, your hips lifting as he held you up and rutted into you as your little cotton tail wagged.

He grabbed onto your fluffy bunny ears, pulling and tugging on them as the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. Your poor cunt was being abused and used by your mate… but you just loved him so much.

And it felt way too good.

Being knotted for the first time made you cry, your already stretched out pussy having to accommodate for his swelling cock.

“F-fuck, baby… my little mate, all mine, okay? Gotta knock you up…”

As he continued to rut his swollen cock into you, he kept whispering how cute you’d look with your belly heavy with his pups, how he’d provide for you and keep his pretty little mate fat and happy.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, his knot keeping you attached for him. He groomed you, licking your hair and cheeks and cooing soft praise.

“My sweet girl, did so good… gonna be a mommy soon, aren’t you?”

Exhausted, you drifted off, happy that you had someone that would care for you, since you were a helpless little bunny that needed someone to coddle you.

He watched you sleep, his eyes narrowing as he left a bite mark on your neck, claiming you as his.

You were his little bun, and every other creature in the vicinity would know you were his entirely. No one would dare touch the wolf’s mate, dare they anger him.

————————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam

[yanderedrabbles]

Cheat on me please

How to safely rid yourself of a yandere

There's no easy way to get rid of him. He's too obsessive. Too controlling. Too bloody single minded.

You tried talking through it and he just scoffed and said you were being silly. That you were just too hormonal and would calm down in a few days.

You tried going no contact and he showed up at your door. Hammered at it until the neighbours called the cops and they dragged him away.

You tried being nice about it and all he did was grab your wrist so hard it bruised. His eyes like chips of stone when he said he didn't want to hear it.

You weren't breaking up with him. You had no reason to.

And the worst part? He was right. You don't have a reason.

On paper, he's the perfect man. Attentive. Generous. Handsome. He buys you gifts, he lavishes you with attention, he's funny and charming around your friends.

And he scares you.

Not because of anything he's done. (Perfect guy, remember?) But some instinct deep inside you tells you to be careful around him.

This one's a predator, he's got claws and fangs, he'll fill you with venom and never let go, some ancient part of you insists.

But try explaining that to him. He's so mindlessly logical. He's not going to leave you because of a silly gut feeling. Come on baby, what sort of shitty boyfriend would do that?

And that's why you're down to half thought out, borderline silly plans to get rid of him. Get your hot friend to sleep with him. Catch them in the act. Throw a tantrum and finally get to break up with him.

You can't try and excuse cheating. It's abhorrent. And his logical side will surely see that, right?

One little hitch though. He's actually loyal to a fault.

Part of you finds it hard to believe. Is he really turning down your absolute bombshell of a friend? The girl all your exes were just a bit in love with?

Maybe he's just being cautious. Maybe he isn't lonely and needy enough to risk it.

So you up the stakes. Decide to avoid fucking him as much as possible. And oh boy, does it drive him crazy. He gets irritable and needy and somehow even more horny the longer your dry spell lasts.

And you know that you almost have him. He's just a man, no matter how logical he pretends to be.

You pick a fight over nothing. Blow it all out of proportion and storm out to stay with your parents for a while.

Piss him off just enough that a revenge fuck seems like a great idea.

He ends up drinking at a shitty dive bar and oh what a coincidence, your gorgeous seductress friend just happens to turn up. The last text she sends you makes it seem like she's finally hooked him and you hurry over to her apartment, feeling just a little giddy. Your plan actually worked! You feel like a goddamn genius.

And sure enough, his car is parked at her front door.

For a second, you feel a little hurt. Yes, this is the outcome you wanted. Yes, you deliberately manipulated him to get to this point. But it still feels like betrayal.

When you make it to her door, it's oddly silent for a supposed drunken hookup. But you're too geared up to notice it.

She left her door unlocked like you agreed and you tiptoe inside, your heart going a mile a minute. Her bedroom door is cracked just a little and a shaft of light cuts through the dark of the hallway.

You swing the door open with a crash, getting to ready to cuss him out.

And you freeze.

There's no guilty couple leaping away from each other, no smell of sweat and cum, no illicit rendezvous.

Instead your friend is tied to a chair, her mouth taped shut with silvery duct tape and her mascara running in black streaks down her cheeks. Her eyes lock onto yours and she tries to scream something through the tape.

The door clicks shut behind you.

You turn slowly. Like putting it off will make the situation less horrible, less like a dissociative dream.

Your boyfriend looks ragged. His eyes are blood shot and his hair is an unruly mess.

But the worst part is the way he smiles at you. Paternal, almost. Like he's caught you doing something naughty but he's willing to overlook it.

"Come on baby, you didn't think I'd actually cheat on you, did ya?"

His voice is condescending, but under the surface you can hear a cold, terrifying anger.

You swallow. Those same instincts that warned you about him are screaming now.

"What the hell is going on?" You demand, trying to sound angry instead of just afraid.

He steps toward you and it takes everything in you to not step away. He picks up a piece of your hair and rubs it between his fingers. Proprietary, possessive.

"What's going on? You should know babe. You're the one who tried to set me up... As though that skank over there ever stood a chance."

He tsks. "I knew something was wrong the second you stopped sleeping with me."

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, his breath ghosting across your neck.

"I fuck you too good for you to give it up so easy."

You jerk away from him, your eyes burning like you're about to cry. How did this go so wrong?

"Are you insane? Untie her right now! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He backhands you right across the face.

He's never hit you before and the shock is almost worse than the pain. You stumble, clutching your cheek. Your face feels numb at first and then a sharp, fiery pain blooms across your cheek.

He grabs your collar and shoves you toward the bed.

"Oh baby, you're lucky I love you." His bared teeth catch the light and he looks more wolf than man.

The edge of the mattress digs into your thighs and you fall backward. You're still reeling and he has you pinned under him before you can find the strength to scramble away.

"Thought about killing her, y'know. What kind of whore goes after her best friend's man? You deserve better than that."

His grip is unyielding. A part of you always knew he was strong, but until now you didn't realise how big the gap between you actually was. His knee is between your legs and he brings it up to press against your crotch.

"But then a light bulb must have went off. And I decided to see how things played out."

He laughs and there's nothing warm or welcoming in it at all.

"All I had to do was squeeze her throat a little and..." He grabs your throat and thightens his grip until you see stars. "And she was just fallin' all over herself to tell me about your little plan."

He let's go and pats your cheek with rough little smacks. "It was cute, baby. Really was. But fucking stupid."

He leans down and kisses you. His lips are rough and he bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang of it makes you gag.

Your instincts were right. He's dangerous and you never should have tempted this monstrous part of him.

He tastes like cheap whiskey and you struggle to pull away. Your chest heaves and no matter how you buck and twist under him, he still keeps you pinned.

When he pulls away, something in your expression must please him because he hums and tilts your chin up. "But it's okay baby. We'll work through this."

He reaches down and tugs at your belt. "And I know exactly where to start."

[robo-writing]

wait so I have an idea for single mother! reader and Logan. maybe single mother! reader has a toddler, and she’s just desperately needing help, so like she asks Logan for help, and Logan finding the reader gorgeous, he quickly says yes without hesitation, so he takes care of her and her toddler, Logan and reader are falling HARD for each other, and like Logan had made himself such a big figure in her and her kids life, that he just says “I love you darlin’ please let me stay with you. I can help you. I can help with everythin’ you need help with. Just let me stay. Let me love you, and let me be there for you two.” AND LIKE SO NOW LOGAN IS SO LIKE IMPORTANT FOR THEM and her toddler is so happy because she thinks Logan is her dad, and knows reader is her mom.

Logan comes around much more frequently as of late, as if he didn’t already before.

What were occasional visits now become once a day, it’s gotten to the point that he doesn’t even bother with excuses now—he just shows up to your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and a predators gaze, laces his arm around your back and buries his face into your neck—missed you sweetheart, did’ya miss me?

He holds you close, firm—the smell of oak and bourbon assaulting your senses—it makes you dizzy; the intimacy of it all, the carnality that bleeds from his fingertips. Possessive of something he doesn’t even have.

“Logan, you shouldn’t—“ you begin, palms splayed against the wall of muscle that is Logan, only to be met with mocking laughter.

“Shouldn’t, or can’t?” His breath is hot, nicotine laced. His tone is sweet, but his words betray the beast that lurks within. “Because I’ll tell you now—you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy.”

His words give you pause, and in the moment it takes for your brain to catch up he’s already leaning away. “Besides, I like this little game we’re playing—you pretend you don’t want me to fuck you stupid, and I pretend that you don’t walk in front of the windows in nothing but a t-shirt and panties at night.”

You sputter in embarrassment, suddenly self-aware. “I-I do not—“

“No, no, it’s fine sweetheart,” he begins. “But if you want my opinion, I like the lacy ones the best.”

“You’re a fucking pervert,” you growl, and he has the audacity to laugh in your fucking face. The need to meet your hand to his face rises, but you’re not a hundred percent sure it would even phase him—worst case scenario, it would actually turn him on.

As much as you want to kick him out, you can never seem to find the courage to do so—he’s great with your daughter, and unfortunately a babysitter is too expensive for your income, so you grit your teeth and bear with it.

You let him in—of course you do—if only to appease your squealing daughter galloping towards the door at the sound of his voice. He picks her up in a single arm, leaving the bouquet impressively untouched as he hoists her into the air, her laughter bringing a smile to your face.

It’s not because you actually enjoy his company, and it’s not because the thought of him sets your blood on fire. It’s not because he’s right about how you bury your head into your pillow, two fingers deep imagining how his cock would fill you better than his fingers, and it’s most certainly not because you moan his name when you come.

He’s just a very good babysitter.

He’s just a very good babysitter.

As your daughter leads him further inside, he looks back at you with that cock-sure grin—the one that makes your hand itch again.

“Same time tonight?”

[kurikive]

CASUAL | danielle marsh.

— "is it casual now?"

6thmember!reader, situationship/fwb but nothing sexual, angst, fluff at the end i promise, dani swears, reader is a (closeted) lesbian, reader is horrible at reading people, written in 2nd person, they work it out on the remix

warnings : A LOT of internalized homophobia !! reader refers to herself multiple times as a predator but it's just from fear and insecurity, nothing actually predatory is happening in the story. extremely brief mentions of starvation

wc: 5.4k words

inspired by: Casual — Chappell Roan

you and danielle marsh are friends. more than co-workers, you're friends. although you don't have that much in common except for your age, it was easy to adapt to the harsh environment of the k-pop industry's training system with someone like danielle by your side.

she's always been a ray of sunshine in everyone's lives, you're not the exception. if you were in a bad mood, tired from waking up in the early morning everyday, worked to the point of exhaustion, danielle would be there rubbing your shoulders and saying something sweet like

"you're doing great, y/n! keep up!"

and then you'd smile at her, and she'd smile back, and you'd feel so much better, thanks to danielle.

you didn't have many interests in common. music taste, fashion sense, movie picks, food preferences, personality types, if anything you were almost her complete opposite. and yet, she sat in your bed every night while you scrolled on your phone, talking for hours until it the clock hits midnight and she goes back to her room.

danielle did most of the talking, and you carefully listened to everything she said. the enthusiasm in which she enunciated all her words was endearing to listen to, and it couldn't not bring a smile out of you. the girl never forgot to give you your chance to speak too, trying to get to know you better everyday.

there was one thing she could not know, however. that you're a lesbian.

if it was hard enough being gay in korea, it was ten times harder when you were about to debut in a girl group, in one of the biggest companies in the industry at the moment nonetheless.

there were times where the members would all gather and have girl talks, talking about things like movies, celebrity crushes, past boyfriends and all that stuff, and you felt left out every single time.

sometimes it's more a curse than a blessing that danielle notices everything, because when she asks, "who's your celebrity crush, y/n?", "what do you look for in a boy, y/n?", "have you ever had a boyfriend, y/n?", you never know how you're supposed to respond.

it wasn't safe. it'll never be safe.

you've known the girls for almost a year and there has never been an indication of the way they felt about the LGBTQ+ community. hanni was your safest bet, she seemed the most open minded, but then again you can never be sure.

they were all so painfully straight.

so you try your best to answer vaguely,

"i don't know.", "i'm not sure, i don't really think about that." they complain a little about your mysteriousness, but it doesn't take long for them to let it go and move on.

you don't know how long you have to keep pretending you're not sure. you are sure.

you like girls.

you don't want to keep pretending you don't. but how would they feel?.

they'd feel unsafe, uncomfortable, scared, exposed to a threat, a possibility of being prey to a predator, a little voice in your head tells you.

but you're not. you're not a predator. they know you're not a predator. you'd never do anything to hurt them, or make them uncomfortable.

so you keep pretending. but the shell is starting to crack, and a knot in your throat gets tighter everytime you hear your members ask "is he your type?".

your debut is only a couple months away. you pray to god hanni has noticed by now. she's your roommate after all.

you start playing some specific songs without your headphones in hopes she walks by or enters the room and notices. you hope she's the one that asks. but she doesn't, she never mentions the songs, ever.

so you move on to movies and shows.

when she catches you watching heartbreak high in the living room TV, she only says "oh they're aussies, right?"

when she sees you watching heartstopper on your phone while eating dinner she just says, "kit connor is soooo handsome."

she doesn't mention it when she goes into your room and you're playing but i'm a cheerleader on your laptop. but hanni has caught on.

and the next time she goes into your shared room, she closes the door behind her. you're in your bed, and you're staring at each other, both of your eyes shine with nervousness.

"can i ask you something?" she says from the door, so shakily you start fearing she's not going to take it like you wish she would.

"sure." you didn't mean for your voice to come out as quiet as it did.

it's a nerve-wracking couple of seconds watching hanni take a seat in her own bed and face you. she takes a big breath before asking, "do you- no, sorry. are you... gay?"

yes, yes, yes. i am a lesbian. i like girls. you want to scream, but the realization of reality strangles you and your throat feels so tight, and you can't say anything.

"it's not like there's anything wrong about it, i'm just... asking." she tries. you can tell she's trying. it's sweet that she's trying.

"yes." it's a struggle to get it out, and your heart starts racing, but just being able to feels like such a relief that you might start crying. but then fear washes down on you again when you can't read hanni, at all.

"i'm really sorry, hanni. i promise i'm not weird or predatory or anything, i would never try to make you uncomfortable and i'm sorry if i ever did. i promise i don't like you like that, not that you're not attractive or anything, that's not what i mean at all. i just- i would never like you like that, you're like my sister and i promise that i'm still the same y/n you met, i really hope this doesn't change anything in our-" she cuts off your rambled apology-slash-explanation with a hug.

"it doesn't. i promise." it hits you now, just now, that hanni knows. she knows.

"please don't tell the others." you're choked up, and that's the only thing you could say before the tears in your eyes caught up. i don't know how they'll take it, you want to say, but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob.

"i won't. it's okay, y/n."

you've grown closer to hanni than you'd ever thought you would. you spend your nights in your room talking and laughing and watching funny videos you send each other.

it's been a few months since you've debuted and you couldn't be happier. you had someone to rely on, someone who knows all your secrets and can trust her with them, and vice versa.

your career has skyrocketed and your popularity is through the roof, and although there are always negative consequences that come with that fame, it's been mostly great on your end.

danielle doesn't really hang out in your room to talk anymore. if you're honest, you kind of miss it, but she surely has her reasons, and you don't think too much about it.

you're currently in one of the vocal practice rooms at HYBE, setting up your phone to do a phoning live. you'd just finish your vocal practice and you had asked for permission beforehand.

after a few minutes of talking with your fans, recommending movies and talking about food, you hear a knock on your door. quite strange.

"yeah? who is it?" you yell loud enough to no cause any ruckus. the door slightly opens and a face peeks inside, "it's me!" danielle's signature smile shining brightly at you, "i saw you were live and wanted to come hang out."

you didn't even need to tell her anything before she was coming right inside the room to grab a chair and sit beside you. "well, come hang out then!" you face your screen to see danielle struggling to bring the chair closer to you, and you chuckle a bit. "dani's here, guys!"

danielle has always been very touchy; with everyone, that is. today was not the exception, resting her head on your shoulder, holding your hand and locking your fingers together, nuzzling her face in your neck, it's all things you're already used to.

it's never been more than just friendly showcases of affection, to you, at least. and you've also never been irritated by it, but there's some guilt you try to suppress.

you don't want to push her away, you're not uncomfortable with her actions, what is uncomfortable is her potentially finding out your sexuality and thinking you let her shower you with affection for your own amusement. you fear it. but you don't want to think about that right now.

you think about it again, however, when you go back home and open social media only to see videos and threads with thousands of likes and views compiling every sweet moment of affection that happened just mere hours ago.

there's a pang in your chest when you see the tens of delusional comments talking of how much they'd like to see you and your friend as a couple. it feels like you're being strangled, and you suddenly feel unwell, so you close the app and turn off your phone.

"i should watch a movie."

you fully believe your debut was your prime. everyday gets harder, scandal after scandal, comeback after comeback, day after day. you work really hard, your members know, your fans know. but it never looks like it's going to get easier.

you win awards, win some more, get another important deal, shoot another session, write another song, the cycle repeats although not in the same order. like a fucked up loop. you're so fucking tired.

you wonder how hyein is holding up. you care a lot for her, like your little sister. she seems okay, eating a bowl of yogurt and fruits in the living room with haerin and hanni. are you the only one having a hard time?

you need to relieve your stress, and there's really no other option other than going to the gym to work out. so you go back to your room to lazily change into your practice clothes and grab your backpack, "i'm going to the gym." you try your best to sound at least a little enthusiastic as you walk behind the living room couch.

"when are you coming back?" you hear danielle ask from the kitchen, a twinge of concern in her voice. "it might start raining soon."

"i won't take long. if i see it starts to get cloudy i'll get going." you try to put her worries at ease. your gym doesn't have windows, though.

you shouldn't have gone. you're not even supposed to go anyway. it's raining hard, and it might start storming soon. but your manager can't know you're here. one of the many downsides of being in a group with four minors and two barely-adults, you can't call any of them to pick you up. so fuck it, you're taking the public transportation.

kind of extremely risky considering you are literally in newjeans, but okay. what else is there to do? what you failed to consider is the only bus stop being about five blocks away. and the bus doesn't drop you off even remotely close to the dorms. so you're gonna be running in the rain and, fuck it again, you do just that.

the first five blocks to the bus stop weren't that bad, you didn't get soaked like you imagined, blocking most raindrops with your backpack over your head. you really should've just brought an umbrella, though.

good thing you brought a mask, at least. nobody seemed to recognize you on the bus. you take a seat as close as possible to the exit and take out your phone to hurriedly text the group chat.

i got a bit caught up, im omw

domt worry 2 much

ill b there soon :))

minji responds with a thumbs up, hanni leaves an "idiot" that gets a like reaction by haerin. you see danielle write and then stop writing about 3 times, but she ends up not sending anything at all, so you just turn off your phone and look outside for your stop.

it only takes a couple minutes of waiting to see the silhouette of your dorm building. you get off your seat and wait for the bus to halt at the next stop to get off. it's raining a bit harder, but there's nothing you can do except wing it.

and when you get off, you immediately put your backpack on top of your head and start running as fast as you could towards your dorm. you get some looks, but no one can possibly be able to recognize you, not at the speed you're going.

after a few minutes, your legs start getting tired not only from running, but all the exercise you did hours earlier. another thing you failed to consider in this mediocre, careless plan.

but you're almost there. and you're almost not soaked.

by the time you reach your building the only thing about you that isn't wet is your scalp. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, it's probably one of your members, but you're almost there, you can't pick up.

you enter the gates of the apartment, and you're probably going to make a mess on the floor on the elevator, but your legs can't take it anymore, and you thank any god that hears your prayers when the elevator doors open and it's empty. you can't take more embarrassment right now.

the doors open once again and you try not to make much noise as you run towards your dorm. someone inside must've heard you fumbling with your keys because as soon as you find the right one the door is already open, a concerned danielle with a just as worried minji behind her. you smile at the sight of them. "hello!"

"get your ass inside!" you hear hanni shout from the couch.

you're drying your hair in your room after taking a shower and explaining the situation to your group members. just as you're about to turn on your phone to see what time it is you hear a knock on your door, "can i come in?" it's danielle.

"yup. come on in!" you answer a lot more energized than a couple hours before. danielle's not wearing her usual bright smile, but rather a more worried expression. "y/n, can we talk?"

you're confused. you've never heard or seen her like this before. she's obviously been worried before, she cares about you just as much as the others, but this time it's different. "yeah, what's up?" you try your best to respond calmly and tap a stop in the bed beside yourself, which danielle gladly takes.

"are you okay?" she asks as she settles down at your side. what?

"what do you mean?" you don't notice it but you start fidgeting with your own fingers. danielle notices.

"it's just," she tries looking somewhere else, but she can't help the need of looking into your eyes all the time, looking for some sort of sign, some crack, "i can tell you're stressed. you're tired and... if you need to talk i just want you to know that i'm here." her eyes are dripping honey and her hand is so warm when she grabs yours.

you show her a sluggish smile, "thanks, dani. i appreciate that." when you look back, her face is already finding it's way to the crook of your neck. "i'm just a little tired of everything. it really feels like i'm doing the same things all over again. i know we've achieved a lot as a group but i feel like i have nothing going on for myself." you sigh, danielle says nothing, urging you to continue.

"all the songs i pitch get turned down, my other drafts feel too personal to release as a group song. every song i write with the group in mind feels, i don't know, empty?"

your eyes unfocus as a wave of emptiness washes over you and the only thing you feel is a water droplet from your bangs fall and travel down your temples. and also the warmth shared by danielle's hand in yours.

"i just feel like nothing's going on in my life." you feel danielle's head leave your shoulder and you turn to look at each other at the same time, "i think i know how you feel." she says with the sweetest eyes ever.

"thanks for listening, dani." you smile at her, but it feels so strange when she doesn't smile back. she just stares, right through you. her eyes are so pretty; you've always known but this is the first time you've looked at them directly for so long (there's really nothing else for you to look at when she's so close to your face).

oh, yeah. in a sudden moment you were inches apart. you don't remember moving so it must've been danielle.

you don't really understand what's going on. maybe this is an eye contact battle and you're not supposed to blink. and you think for a moment you had it easy because suddenly danielle's pretty eyes are nowhere to be found and you're staring at her eyelids and long eyelashes instead.

before your brain even thinks of giving you the chance to mutter "i win!" in a silly manner, you feel your own lips getting shut. covered, enveloped by another set of softness.

oh. this is not what you expected at all.

what are you even supposed to do right now? well, pull away, obviously. but that could could give danielle the impression that you hate everything about this and, really, that's not true at all. it's good. well, not good, but- danielle is not horrible at kissing.

what even is happening, anyway? i mean, you're kissing. but what else? nothing feels like it's moving; it feels like time's stopped. there also hasn't been anything that has lead up to this happening.

so you're just left there, paralyzed, in shock, waiting until danielle pulls away. just waiting until she's done with you. until she's satisfied.

and it's until danielle notices that you're not moving that she realizes what she's done. she pulls away, shaken and distraught.

"y/n, i am so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i am so so so sorry. i really didn't mean to do that. please forgive me, y/n, i am really so sorry." at this point, danielle's voice starts to break. "i don't know why i did that, it's just, i don't know, you just looked good a-and we were just close and-"

"it's okay, dani. i know."

"no, y/n, i really am sorry. i-"

"dani, i swear it's fine." you grab her shoulder to reassure her, but is anything really fine right now? "i..." you don't really know what to say next. "i don't, like, hate you or anything. i understand things like that happen. i'm not mad at you."

"really?" you've never seen her tear up so fast. you definitely didn't expect her to tear up at this. but you know the feeling of guilt so well you can't help but feel sympathy for her. "are you sure? i promise it won't happen again."

"i'm sure, dani. you could never do anything to make me hate you."

you smile at her, she sniffles. it's the last thing you hear before you hear the sound of her wristwatch's seconds ticking. you don't really know what's going through her head. you count about 34 ticks.

"did you hate it?" her voice isn't weak, but it is lower than you normally expect it to be.

you're stunned, but the way she looks at you so earnestly, with a hint of nervousness in her eyes forces you to answer within seconds, "n-no! dani, i didn't... hate it. it was just unexpected. i didn't really process it at first." it's the truth, but it feels so gut-wrenching to say.

another 20 ticks of quiet.

"can i do it again?"

hello? hello? what is going on? hello?

"i-i mean, if you want to." it sounds more like a question than a proper answer. and danielle takes it anyway.

you don't have any romantic feelings for danielle, that's for sure. she's said she doesn't have any feelings for you either. that's established. and yet when hanni is too caught up watching movies in the living room with minji and hyein, danielle is always there, sitting in your bed.

sometime's it's just little pecks while you cuddle and watch something she doesn't care much about. sometime's she's on the verge of kissing the living shit out of you.

it's never more than that. none of you let it be more than that. it's more than okay.

it's comfortable. it's casual.

and yet, every time it happens, you feel guilt eat at your stomach.

because danielle doesn't know. and she can't know.

it's not like this was your idea in the first place, it was danielle's. but the fact that you let her do it anyway could be predatory enough for her to feel unsafe if she ever did find out. even if she's the one who caused this all.

and never once do you think about yourself while it happens. it's not a moment for you, it's a moment for danielle to take. and you're okay with that. as long as she's okay with it.

you're okay with many things just because danielle is okay with them.

if danielle wants to watch a romcom, you watch a romcom. if danielle wants to eat plain yogurt, you eat plain yogurt. if danielle wants to kiss you, you let her kiss you.

it's not that big of a deal if there are no feelings involved. it's just a matter of believing that that's actually true.

you let her do whatever she wants because you're scared to do the taking. because taking feels like stealing, and doing feels like attacking. and you're so scared to hurt danielle that you forget you can also hurt yourself.

but if it's so casual, why doesn't she let go of your hand? why does she call you pretty everyday? why does she look at you with those pretty eyes like you're her whole world?

was the "i love you" she said yesterday something she meant as platonic love? is there such a thing as casual love?

was it just the sound of the raindrops on your window that made you hallucinate the sound of a love confession?

you don't eat anything for the rest of the day.

minji and hyein are visiting their parents. hanni and haerin are out of the country. and you're in the dorm kitchen trying to figure out how blurred the lines are while you mix the milk into your tea.

you feel your heart drop when you hear the sound of footsteps of the line-blurrer herself over the sounds of light rain. it hasn't stopped since the day before.

you don't want to feel anything right now, you don't want to hear anything right now.

she wraps her arms around your waist and says, "good morning." with that big bright smile on her face. at one point it started hurting when she did, but you don't remember when.

she smells like the candles you burnt in your room two days after hanni left. you were trying to get rid of danielle's scent from your room, but you couldn't tell her that, so you just said you were trying something new.

danielle notices you say nothing back, and your eyes are nowhere in particular. "watchu thinkin' about?" her always cheery tone gets you out of your trance, and she notices when you stop stirring the spoon in your cup. you're still silent for a bit, but she lets you take your time.

"i don't think we should do this anymore, danielle."

you tense up when her arms leave your waist, but it feels oddly freeing. you don't turn back to face her.

"what do you mean?"

"are we still casual?"

there's disbelief in danielle's voice when she speaks, "what are you talking about? of course we are!" but she sounds dishonest, in a way.

"really?" that's when you turn around, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are quite flushed but nothing about her seems guilty at all, "because saying "i love you" doesn't seem quite casual to me."

she scoffs, "y/n, i tell all my friends i love them. it's a normal thing!"

"i'd agree with you if we weren't kissing on the low. it's a little too much on top of that."

"i don't know what you think casual means but-"

"what i mean is we should stop before the lines start to blur, that's if they haven't already." you don't want to yell at her. you hope she understands before you have to raise your voice. "we are public figures, famous figures. if this goes wrong we can't go back and that could potentially ruin everything, not only for us but for our group."

"well, it can't go wrong if there's no feelings involved, can it?" danielle is usually playfully sassy, but she's never responded to you like this before.

"we're human, danielle. feelings can't be stopped." you're not too good at reading people, but you can see something has clicked in danielle's brain.

"what i'm getting is that you developed feelings for me while we were casual, is that right?" she seems so sure and confident that it annoys you. it frustrates you. and you want to cry.

"no, that's not what i said. but i am scared of it happening, and i want this to stop before it has the chance to."

"well, you should've thought of that before you said yes." you never really did.

"why are you upset, anyways?"

"b-because!" her voice gets louder, "i just wanted this to be casual, and now your telling me you're scared of catching feelings, it's just weird. that's all."

you sigh, "listen, i don't want this to end on a bad note. i just-"

"well, i don't want this to end at all!"

it takes you a minute to believe what you're hearing.

"a-are you hearing yourself?" it's shocking, it really is, "this is crazy, why are you being so selfish right now?"

"because it feels good! okay?!" danielle has completely let go of the loose strings of morality she was holding on to, "it fucking feels good, a-and you make me feel good. i like it when we kiss, and i like it when we cuddle and, and, i just like it, okay?!" that's the first time you've heard danielle curse in your entire life.

"okay, well, i'm glad you did. but i don't. i don't feel good at all." it's so scary and risky because you're two seconds away from telling her the truth, and this could potentially damage both your careers irreversibly, but you can't think of any lie or excuse that is true enough to keep hiding it.

"i drown in guilt every time we kiss and i feel like i'm choking when you look at me these days."

you've never seen her look so confused, like she really doesn't understand you. because she never had to.

"why?"

"i am a lesbian, danielle." you can't shatter, not now. "and it kills me because you'll never understand how hard it is to hide like this for so long. and yes, we hide this casual thing from our members, but after this is over you don't have to hide anything at all and i still have to hide everything."

she says nothing. her eyes soften, but you can't read them. not like you ever could.

"i didn't catch feelings for you, but i could, and you're not helping out. and you don't have to worry about that. you don't have to worry about your members being disgusted at you for something you can't change. you don't have to pretend. you don't have to be scared that you're making someone uncomfortable by simply existing beside them. i had to pretend i didn't care when you kissed me, i had to pretend to be okay when you kissed me again. i've been pretending to be okay with so much i don't know what being okay is anymore."

danielle still says nothing.

"but that's all gone to shit now, hasn't it?" your voice can't break now, but it does anyway, even when your not done speaking. "i can't be okay with everything. i can't be casual about everything, danielle. not anymore." there's a hot tear running down your cheek, but you try to hold yourself together.

"i never want to hurt you, ever, danielle. but i am seriously hurting myself. i am eating myself from inside out. there's nothing casual about that."

"i think i might be in love with you." is the first thing she says in minutes. and that's when you shatter completely. you turn around to leave your mug of now cold tea on the counter and you rest your elbows on it to hide your face in your hands.

"do you think that helps?" you're sobbing.

"i'm sorry. i know it doesn't. i just had a moment of realization and i think that's why i was so upset. i didn't want you to end this because i was in love with you since the start and didn't realize."

"this is fucking crazy." it really is, that's why you can't hold down the laugh of complete astonishment that leaves your lips. "do you realize how crazy this is? i just came out to you and you're- i don't even want to think about this."

"i'm really sorry, y/n." it's the first time you see guilt in danielle's face in a long time. "i really am. i really didn't know, i- i didn't know anything at all."

"you were upset of me potentially having feelings for you when it was you the whole time, huh?" this is no time or place to make jokes, you're literally crying as you speak. but this is hilarious. danielle seems to think so too given she also laughs.

"i don't know what i was thinking." she says, hiding her face in her palm in embarrassment.

"i wish i knew too." you say, "i never do."

"so what now? i mean, you clearly don't like me back." you don't understand how danielle does it. she never looks away, she faces the truth, something you're unable to do easily.

"that's a good question, i actually never thought about that." i mean, you thought the possibility of danielle ever liking a woman, let alone you, was at a mere 0.1%, can you blame yourself for not thinking of a solution to this?

"i mean, you did say you could."

"selfish asshole." you mutter to yourself, but danielle hears it anyways. "hey!"

"i'm crying right in front of you out of fear and frustration, have some respect, dude."

"i would say it wouldn't hurt to try but it clearly does so i don't know what you want to do." wow, danielle really could never do anything to make you hate her. nothing at all. "i don't mind being the selfless one this time."

"cheesy." she's always been like that, you can't say you hate it. "i'll reheat my tea and think about it."

danielle waits for you. maybe it wouldn't be so bad to risk falling in love with her too. you've risked it once.

the microwave beeps and you take your mug out. it's hot again. you turn to face danielle and she's still there, hasn't moved an inch. "i'm willing to give it a try. but nothing casual."

she shines you the widest grin you've ever seen from her. "nothing was ever casual, i fear."

"i still can't believe you cursed." you say as you walk past her to go to your room (that probably smells like danielle's perfume again).

"i did?!" she trails behind you. you nod. "i almost jumped."

"hey, am i the first one to know?"

"what, that i'm a lesbian?" she nods, now beside you. you shake your head after a sip of your tea.

"hanni knew."

"i'm not even the first? fuck..." is she doing this on purpose... she has to be, right?

"dude? hello?"

"don't dude me, i'm your future girlfriend." she hits your arm as you walk into your room. you don't know what you're gonna say to hanni when she comes back.

"confident much? shut up and pick a movie to watch." you'll figure it out later.

end.

🗒️ this wasn't as long as i thought it was gonna be THANK GOD

[dragongirlpoet]

Dark Signs

Pt II I Pt III

Alucard x you

Summary: A flirty, playful night with Adrian takes a dark turn.

TW: Dark fantasy, horror, blood, smut (explicit) 🔞 I Words: 1.6k

This is my first fic & attempt at smut. I hope you enjoy it!

“…And there, in the dead of night, under a moon so maroon, the White Wolf prowled — ravenous. Sturdy were its footsteps, calculated were its gait. Ahead, still as a rosebud in a windless twilight, its prey lay splayed out — helpless. 

Something about its small intakes of breath, its unsuspecting demeanour, made it all the more enticing for the imposing predator. Ever so slowly, the White Wolf, eyes like the golden gleam of a rising dawn, emerged from the thicket, pressing forward, inching closer, closer, closer…”

Body hovering over mine, Alucard’s words were a rasp above my cheek. The antiquated tome he had been reading from now a forgotten humdrum between our bodies. As velvet lips collided into me, I melded into his being. He was a hypnotic wave crashing into shore, and I was but delicate driftwood being dragged underwater.

His kiss was insistent, impatient. I had no escape, no cavity of air to quell the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Still, I kept going, because he was the only breath I needed. My fingers clawed ruthlessly at his back — muscle and bone Herculean from years of battling night creatures and evil forces. Skin so utterly cold, yet I wanted — needed — more.  

His body was a frigid storm to my fervent summer. “You are glorious as the solstice sun, darling. With you I am forever warm, within you I live eternally,” the confession falling easy from his lips the day he had taught me how to hunt.

Faces lost in each other, bodies entwined and limbs tugging like our lives depended on it, Alucard let his hand roam under my nightdress, finally finding solace in the swell of my chest. I shifted slightly at the unusual chill. Was he ever this cold?

Over the months I had become accustomed to his half human intricacies. His unnerving stillness, his undeniable thirst for blood try as he might to hide it, his erratic need to stay up nights in a row roaming the castle “just to be sure…” 

I was no fool. Those witching hours almost always had him back in his childhood room — he would stare, as if entranced, at the spot he had staked his father. And I would see the grief in his eyes — the absolute contrition at his travesty, one he wished he could take back, but couldn’t. 

Alucard, the son of the great Dracula and benevolent Lisa Tepes, the almighty dhampir. A being so beautiful he could bring a kingdom to its knees, yet one so cruelly tormented by his past.

“Baby, eyes on me.” My eyes fluttered open, realising I was lost in the wrong moment. He crashed his lips into mine once again. 

As if in a bid to stop my obsessive thinking, he started to grab at my breast, kneading furiously, thumb toying with my nipple. I leaned in closer, but alas my human endurance had reached its limits and I pulled away for air. 

“I want to know what happened to the prey. I am most opposed to unfinished stories,” I tried to play coy in between ragged breaths. Nose to mine, he wore a smirk on his handsome face. He had a playful glint to his stare — contemplative, as if taunting me to continue with my officious fib. 

Alucard picked the tome up from my stomach, grazing his fingers ever so slightly over my abdomen. He trailed the book slowly down my navel, its cracked spine against my bare skin sent fireworks to my core. I watched with bated breath as the print finally landed where he wanted it — in between my legs. He dragged its spine down, then up again, repeating the motion, teasing, eyes never leaving mine. 

Satisfied with how wet my undergarment had become, he hushed, “I think it better if I showed you instead. Don’t you agree, princess?” 

“Ye..yesss,” 

“Do you like that?”

“Yesss…”

“Open your legs wider.”

I obeyed. Submitting to him was easy. Too easy.

“Let’s see just how wet you are for me, hmm?” 

Without warning, Alucard ripped my soaking cloth off my hips and plunged two fingers inside. I cried out at the shock and how good it felt, and as if by instinct grabbed his hands and guided them deeper into me. Alucard let out a stifled moan at my brazenness, his erection growing fast under his black britches.

He watched with eyes half-lidded, completely spellbound as I bounced into his hand, my breasts rising and falling with every thrust. Body and mind so turned on he reached urgently into his pants and started stroking his length. 

For a long moment we just sat there, eyes locked on each other, legs spread wide, our sex stimulated. And what a profane sight it must have been for our bed chamber was filled with nothing but wanton “fucks” and the squelching of his fingers coated in my lust. 

I fucked myself into his fingers harder, and reached desperately for his cock. With more force than necessary, he caught both my wrists with his free hand and pinned them to my stomach. “That’s for later,” he chided. 

Alucard was usually wary of his inhuman strength around me. But tonight, tonight he was carnal, rough, like an animal being let out of its cage. His knuckles went white with how much pressure he had put on my wrists, and I bit my lip knowing it was going to bruise. 

As if to edge me further, Alucard pulled his fingers out and gazed at them ever so intently, admiring the slather of fluid glistening like diamonds on his digits. If his etherealness hadn’t killed me, then perhaps what he did next would have driven me close to death. With deliberate calm, he brought his fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue over my juices, savouring every single trickle.

My dhampir, hair like a divine cascade of golden waterfalls, on his knees, drinking my lust as if it were vital sustenance, yet all that he was was in direct contrast to his reverence — powerful, dominant and deadly. I marvelled at his masculine elegance — the way his pectorals tensed as he licked his fingers dry, how his faded sanguine scar stood distinct against his alabaster skin, the definition of muscles that ran down his pelvis…

I swallowed. 

“God, you taste so good. Only for me, yes?” 

“Yesss…” Being thoroughly educated and well-read, I was fairly ashamed it was all the vocabulary I could muster.

And it would seem that more crude words were soon to follow, as Alucard then dove in between my thighs and sent his tongue plunging — deep, depraved — into my clenching walls.  

“Fuuuck, Adrian!” 

Hearing his name sent him over the edge, and he started sucking hard — wet pillow lips against wet pillow flesh. I was heaven and hell collided, rising from it like the luminescent birth of a star. I ground my core into his face, hands grasping his woven-gold hair, willing him to dive further into me. 

Alucard groaned in pleasure against my clit. Powerful, cold hands gripped my thighs apart, and my sweet lover lay soft kisses to the insides, thumbs expertly caressing my sensitive folds. In all his vampire glory, he bared his fangs ever so slightly, sharp teeth just barely peeking through, grazing them over my clit and thighs, nibbling, never breaking skin. I was undone. 

“Adrian…Adrian please…”

“Please what?”

I was all heavy pants and delirious to give a coherent reply.

Head still positioned at the apex of my thighs, his eyes raked over his masterpiece — delicate features coated in sweat, nipples hard from stimulation and the soppy, pulsating cunt laid out like a feast inches from his mouth. What a mess he had made of me, and a mess he was most certainly proud of. 

From in between my legs, Adrian was a fallen angel from a paradise unknown. His eyes like gold afire were so wholly glazed over they looked like one with the smouldering flames nestled atop our chamber candles. 

Patience waning, he asked again. “Please…” humming the words into my clit…“what?” A loud moan escaped my lips. I arched my back in sheer pleasure, feeling the build up in my core.

He dragged his fangs against my thighs, eyes fixated on mine, drinking in my desire. 

“I want…I want…” my chest heaving so violently from how close I was to release.

“What do you want?” Adrian moved to whisper against my ear. This was too much. 

“I want…I want you to turn me.”

Alucard went very still, his pupils blown wide. Everything went very still. The flames lost its dance, the curtains absent of sway.

“What did you say?” His voice was still water with undercurrents of danger. 

His statuesque figure towered over me, pinning me under. 

“I said, I want you to turn me.” 

Alucard held my stare, and as I took them in, an unearthly shadow seemed to lurk beneath those incandescent irises. 

If my question threw him off guard, his unsettling stillness made it clear he wasn’t most fond of surprises. It took a long moment before he finally moved, his supernatural speed having him by the window in seconds. 

Frustration soon shrouded my orgasmic high. I forced my spent body off the reprieve of our mattress. He was going to answer me whether he liked it or not.

“Adrian! You cannot disregard my question any longer! I’ve wanted this from the first time you made love to me, don’t pretend it was never asked of you,” exasperation evident in my tone.

“Peril or not, I am not afraid. I…”

A sudden squall of wind extinguished the flickering flames. Our bed chamber was plunged into chasmic darkness, summoning a bitter chill that seeped through the wooden floors. There, still as a predator hunting prey, hovered the glowing golden orbs of Alucard's eyes, the blacks of his pupils far wider than I’d ever seen. 

“A…Adrian?” 

Pt II I Pt III

[orcasoul]

Marcus Acacius Imagine #2

Warnings: Violence, mention of sexual harassment, fluff, yearning.

Word Count: 547

Dominus Acacius who - having sacked your village under the command of the emperors - saw how his soldiers were manhandling you, groping your body with no shame, and after seeing the fear in your eyes and hearing your pitiful cries for mercy immediately commanded your release, his unexpected urge to protect you surprising even himself. Who picked you up off the ground, holding you firmly to his chest while you sobbed and carried you into his praetorium (tent), gently setting you down in his chair. Who personally cleaned your cuts and scrapes while you looked at him like a petrified prey animal waiting for the predator to strike. Who had no choice but to give you an ultimatum; either you would be brought into his service or you would be taken to the market with the other slaves.

Dominus Acacius who kept you by his side at all times while sailing to Rome, well aware of what sexually frustrated men would do to a woman caught alone. Who gave strict orders to his squire to take you to his villa and have Alba - his most loyal and motherly-like female slave help you settle in and bathe, while he has to deal with all the pomp and fanfare of his triumphant return. Who sent for you upon his arrival home and gave you your assigned duties, explaining that being here was the best option for you in a world that would otherwise chew you up and spit you out; with him you'll be safe, fed and sheltered. Who's chest tightened slightly when you wiped away a sorrowful tear as you left the room. Who had trouble sleeping that night as the image of your vulnerability and obvious sadness hunted his conscience and his dreams.

Dominus Acacius who exercised great patience with you as you acclimated to your new life and tried his best to make the transition as easy as possible. Who asked Alba to look out for you when he wasn't there. Who found his thoughts drifting to you throughout the days; said thoughts carrying a pang of worry when he had to leave you for any length of time. Who felt a strange elation whenever you entered the room, as if your presence alone had lifted an invisible weight from his shoulders. Who began to seek you out and draw you into conversation more frequently and noticed over time that you had began to relax around him and even smile, his heart smiling in return.

Dominus Acacius who can't ignore what his heart harbours any loner. Who knows he can never voice his feelings to you in a society that would never accept a union between a slave and general. But he can at least acknowledge it himself; he has fallen deeply in love with you. Who has never understood the meaning of "other half" until now; you are all the parts of himself that he is missing. Who knows he will never be able to love and cherish you as your husband, but as your Dominus he will love and protect you for as long as he draws breath. Who will adore you from afar and will do everything within his power to give you a comfortable life while he secretly yearns for you forever more.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No. 16, No. 19, No. 22

Prompt 16: Swamp

Prompt 19: Abandoned cabin

Prompt 22: Tourniquet

Warnings: Animal death; severe injuries

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending. This one has been a work in progress since the beginning of the month and I just can’t get it to go any further. Maybe I’ll continue with a second part later.

gif is not mine - google

Neither human nor beast had moved since you had spotted the predator—a dragon by its own right. The alligator’s eyes reflected both the water’s surface and a sinister promise. Daryl, the water easily reaching his shoulders with his feet touching the swamp floor, was breathing quickly through his nose but remained otherwise motionless. The only thing you could see in his eyes was naked, implacable fear. 

“Daryl.” You whimpered. 

“Get outta the water.” You knew better than to argue and moved the slightest inch to turn before he spoke again. “Slow. Don’t splash.” He added. 

“Okay.” You tried to keep your movements fluid, deliberate. Each step beneath the murky surface felt heavy and so slow that you thought you would never feel the water receding around your upper body. You momentarily considered shedding your backpack but decided against it. There was a strange noise behind you but you kept your eyes on the overgrown shoreline. “Daryl?”

“Doin’ great. Keep goin’.” 

You nodded and maintained your glacial pace, bending at the waist as you began to leave the water in order to minimize the droplets that would unsettle the surface. The foreboding sense of being followed gnarled and twisted in your gut, and you allowed yourself to believe it was Daryl inching along behind you. 

“Almost there.” The tremble in his tone was easy to detect. You could also pick up that he was nowhere near behind you. 

“Daryl, how will you—” You didn’t see the debris. Of course you couldn’t through the dingy water. You had barely tripped and hit your knees when all hell broke loose around you. 

“Run, run, GO!” Came Daryl’s roar, a half a second before you heard and felt the chaos erupting. You were moving within milliseconds of his command, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder. 

“Shit!” A second gator had—at some point—surfaced, its tail whipping side-to-side to carry it toward you at a speed you would have never been able to outswim. Clambering onto the shore, the weeds soggy and giving beneath your feet, you ran a few meters ahead, trying hard to ignore the sounds that echoed beyond what could be your approaching death. 

The smaller alligator met land with a speed you hadn’t known the creatures capable of outside the water, its four legs carrying that open maw toward you faster than you were prepared to counter. With your only choices being abandon Daryl or fight, you made the only one with which your heart could live. 

Waiting until the last second, just as the animal lunged for you, you leapt to the side, twisting your body to throw your hunting knife. Those lessons with Daryl had paid off. The alligator slid forward until the momentum waned before going still, your knife protruding from its left eye. 

There was no time to catch your breath. “Daryl!” Between the heavy splashing, you would catch sight of a tail or an arm, the glint of sunlight off a blade. He was fighting for his life and you had no idea how to help him. Did you go back in the water? It’s what you wanted to do. There were likely other gators being attracted by the frenzy. Maybe you could keep them—

“Y’alright?!” 

“Oh, Daryl, thank god.” He was already wading toward you, shaking out his left hand while his right still held his knife. There was a decent amount of blood hitting the water with each flick. “Where did—is it dead?”

The archer shrugged a shoulder. “Dunno. Ain’t waitin’ ‘round to find out neither.” 

You were already reaching for him before he stepped out onto the mud, your hands latching onto his vest to pull him forward into a kiss that had him gasping against your mouth before just as quickly settling to return the gesture. After a few breathless heartbeats, his forehead rested against yours.

“Fancy knife work there.” 

You opened your eyes to find his still closed but you knew what he spoke of without separating from him. “Learned from the best.” You peppered his lips with several more chaste kisses before finally straightening to go retrieve your weapon. “We should probably take a look at—” The words died on your tongue, dissolved by horror and fear. 

Why hadn’t you urged him away from the water? Why hadn’t he moved further on his own? As the strong jaws clamped down around Daryl’s lower leg, the answers you sought no longer mattered. The archer smacked the ground with a shout, attempting to roll over while reaching for his knife. A sharp pull on his leg foiled his attempt. 

“Daryl!” You leapt forward, grabbing for his hand. Your fingers brushed his just as he was yanked into the water, the gator letting go just long enough to seek a better hold, teeth sinking into the flesh of Daryl’s right thigh. He let out a pained yell that followed him beneath the tenebrous marsh. “Daryl, no!”

The surface bubbled and rippled before going still, your heart twisting before it sank. The swamps were silent as you stepped into the shallows, scanning, watching, praying. 

“Daryl.” You whispered frantically, taking another step into the water. If you could do something for Daryl then you’d gladly let death come for you. If you could do nothing, then it could come all the same. Your feet slid forward again, your eyes darting, desperate for just a glimpse of your archer. 

When the surface broke, it was a tail first, then the gator’s belly. Its jaws still held Daryl’s leg as it rolled, his body twisting to turn with the beast. He was alive, and he was trying to remain that way while keeping his limb intact. The gator rolled a second time with Daryl gasping in a frenzied breath before he was plunged once again. 

Gripping the hilt of your knife, you dove under, throwing any consideration of your own safety to the wayside. It was impossible to see below resulting in you reaching for either Daryl or the gator. When you felt something crash into your hand, you made a grab for it and rolled to the surface, quickly opening your eyes to find yourself holding Daryl’s belt. Bending at the waist, you wrapped your legs around him as the movement continued, the gator relentlessly seeking to tear the archer’s leg from his body. 

Above water again, you sucked in a breath and found your target, stabbing at the animal’s head with your knife. You felt it drive home and pulled it free as the rolls continued, repeating the action over and over with nothing but a prayer that you managed the kill and doing so without hitting Daryl. 

The momentum slowed before stopping completely, the water tinted red as you clawed your way to the surface, reaching down to grab Daryl before releasing the hold you had maintained with your legs. 

“Daryl.”

He broke the surface with an agonized groan, groping for you while you held on urgently. 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Backstroking while pulling him along, you managed to get him to the shoreline and struggled to your feet with your hands beneath his arms. You pulled and pulled, dragging him as far from the water as you could manage. He helped as much as he could with his uninjured leg, digging the heel of his boot into the ground and kicking back. “Let me see.”

The flesh of his thigh was torn, flayed at the edges of two wounds that were at least six inches long. They were deep but showed no bone. His lower leg was not unaffected but lacked the severity of the other injury. 

“Fuck.” You covered your mouth for a moment, watching him collapse onto his back, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Shedding your bag, you first grabbed a bottle of water, setting to work at cleaning the wound. When he shot upward with a shout, you began to mutter a mantra of I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. 

“Goddamnit!” Daryl exclaimed and fell back again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The wound continued to bleed heavily, gaping open in such a way that seized you with panic, grasping for any remembrance of your medical training. 

“Stop the bleeding. Clean the wound.” You could attempt to stitch it later, once the blood clotted—if you could even manage to pull the skin together. Gauze would never cover it but you had little choice but to try, your clothing too wet with the filthy water to aid in staunching the flow. You prayed as you dug through your bag that the harder exterior of the medical kit had protected the contents. 

Your prayers were answered, the supplies were dry. With quick movements, you unbuckled your belt and pulled it free of the loops. Sliding it beneath his leg resulted in a groan and grimace of pain but you couldn’t stop, not until it was pulled tight and fastened above the wound. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You repeated as you released your makeshift tourniquet, satisfied with the visible decrease of blood flow. “You’ll bleed out if I don’t.” Grabbing another bottle of water, you removed the cap and quickly emptied it over the torn flesh, wincing in sympathy. Alcohol would have been preferred but much more painful. Still, you worked with what was available. 

“Do—do whatcha gotta do.” Daryl panted. He pressed his palms into the soggy ground and tried to push himself up, making it only to his elbows before he was out of breath. His left hand was still steadily weeping but at least he had managed to keep all of his fingers. “Christ.” He whispered, his wide eyes obtaining their first look at the wound. 

“I know.” You felt sick. What could you do beyond what had been done already? “We have to get out of here. Find the others and get back to Alexandria.” Square after square of gauze was applied before you wrapped the grizzly wound with the only roll you had to secure and press things into place. 

“S’gettin’ dark.” He commented, head tipped back. He was staring upward toward the canopy as his breathing slowed but failed to return to normal. “Can’t be walkin’ through this shit at night.”

“We can’t stay here, Daryl.” You argued. “There’s more, you know there are.” The swamps of Macon, Georgia were abundant with wildlife, including a healthy affluence of alligators. You were going to absolutely murder Rick for this mission when you and Daryl made it back. 

When. Not if. 

“S’try an’ find a place ain’t around the water.” He was still staring upward, dazed. “Ain’t got long to search ‘fore it gets dark.” When he didn’t make an attempt to move, you gathered all you could into your backpack, save for the knife you secured in the holster on your thigh. You even managed to put Daryl’s knife in its place on this good leg without any acknowledgment from the hunter. 

“Daryl.” You tried, watching the quick but shallow pants of his breath. His skin was still wet with swamp water, but was looking pale. “Daryl.” You attempted more forcefully. 

“Hmm?” He finally rolled his head toward you, the personification of calm. “Oh.” He seemed to finally catch on and started pushing himself upward, making it to a seated position only after you had grabbed beneath his arms and helped. Once it was clear he would not fold over onto his lap, you let go. 

“Gotta get you on your feet.” 

“Ain’t gonna get far.” The way he was behaving was beginning to worry you, his lack of panic—even pain.

“Daryl.” You crouched in front of him, taking another look at his leg. Red was already seeping through the bandage, a dark circle soaked into the soil below his thigh. “I need you with me.”  You said sternly, cupping his face with both hands. His gaze was cloudy, unfocused, and only seemed to clear the slightest fraction when you gave him a gentle shake. “Are you with me?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Yeah.” He rasped. “Yeah, m’with ya.” Then he was actually trying to lever to his feet without your help, your hands frantically scrambling for purchase anywhere they could to provide support. To his credit, he made little noise beyond grunts and one sobbing rush of air once he was upright. 

“Okay, okay. Here we go.” He staggered into you while you assisted in draping his arm across your shoulders. “That wasn’t so hard.” You quipped, grinning up at him when those pretty blues glared at you. You had to keep things light. 

“Think—think you’re funny?” He grunted with the first supported step, his hand grasping for a firm grip on your shoulder. 

“I know I am.” 

“Gonna hafta—file a—a complaint.” 

The steps the two of you managed were small and hindered by the struggle of pulling along his right leg. Between blood loss and the tight tourniquet, it was amazing he could feel anything at all. Still, you trucked onward, boots sinking into the mushy ground. There was just too much water all around, too many threats. You kept your eyes peeled for danger, Daryl’s head now resting against the top of your own. He was getting weaker, slowing down, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep him going. 

When he began to shiver, it wasn’t a gradual transition. One minute he was simply a weight against your side and the next, he was vibrating and his teeth chattering. It was anything but cold. It could only mean one thing. 

“You’re losing too much blood.” You commented, not really with the intent of him hearing. If he did, he didn’t respond. 

The pale light that had been guiding your path had since receded before disappearing completely, leaving the two of you shrouded in darkness. Each step had to be calculated, a gentle touch of the toe of your boot to test the integrity of the ground before you would drag him forward. If you fell into the swamp water now, it would be impossible to pull him out. 

Glowing eyes surrounded you, the reminder that more of the apex predators awaited a single lapse in judgment, one mistake. 

“Talk to me, Daryl.” He was growing heavier and heavier, harder and harder to pull along even if the ground had been sturdy. 

“Called a—a death roll.”

“What?” You queried, truly curious about the topic even if you couldn’t pay him your undivided attention. You stepped across a downed limb, your hands never leaving him before you had to nearly drag him across after you. 

“What that—gator—what it did. S’a death roll.” He stopped talking for a moment, gaining his balance, or at least enough strength to keep him from toppling over. “S’how they—how they rip off chunks,” he sucked in a shaky breath, “to eat.”

The information sat like a stone in your gut. It really had been trying to sever his leg, less interested in killing him and more concerned with tearing off a hunk of him to swallow down. 

“Well.” It was the only thing you could think of to say. The silence ensued and dragged on, your hope being sapped out and left in the trail of disturbed mud his boot was carving with each pull of his useless leg. He was less walking and more limping along beside you in graceless movements that did little more than keep him moving. 

By the time the old cabin—more of a shack, really—came into view, you were barely holding Daryl up. Your strength was waning, your body exhausted. You could hear the moans and gnashing teeth of walkers stuck in the marsh, your consciousness just too lagged to give thanks for their inability to reach you and the archer. The very thought of defending the two of you in your current state made your body ache. 

“Daryl. Daryl, it’s a cabin.” You jostled him with your shoulder, relief flooding your senses when he raised his head, albeit slowly. His only reply was a drawn out hum. “We can make it. Come on.” Drawing upon your reserves, you pulled him along. “Hello?” You called, maneuvering Daryl up the dilapidated steps to the door. There was no response, no candlelight. Abandoned. Or so you had hoped before you heard a thump against the door that was followed by a snarling growl. “Of course!”

The walker—an old man—had a bullet wound through his cheek and you would have bet the entry wound was below his chin. He had missed. Maybe he had died quickly. You wished that for him. Without dwelling, you lured him out, keeping his focus away from the man you had placed on the floor of the porch, behind an old rocker. Your knife met the dead man’s temple at the top of the steps, the body toppling onto the ground and out of your way. 

“Done and done.” You nodded and sheathed your weapon, trudging tiredly toward where Daryl lay prone. “Hey, you still with me?” You patted the side of his boot on his good leg, chuckling when he gave you a weak thumbs up. “Let’s get inside.”

Easier said than done, but once the two of you were safe behind the closed door, you allowed your body the moment of rest it needed, sprawling out next to Daryl on the floor. He was still shivering, breaths shallow, and eyes barely open. Nope, nevermind. You were up immediately, searching for anything you could use. 

A dusty blanket, some dried meat, and a useless med kit were all you managed to scavenge but it was enough. At least for the moment. You wrapped Daryl up tightly inside the blanket after beating the dust from it outside. It would be enough to keep him warm. Your bag was situated beneath his feet, keeping the blood flow closer to his heart. And once you had his head on your lap, you set to work trying to get food and water into him. 

“You need to drink. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” You argued, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from his face. “You’re already in shock.”

“M’fine. You have it.” 

“If you’re not drinking any, then I’m—”

He groaned. “Fine.” He accepted a few sips before turning away his head. Satisfied, you drank a few of your own and placed the bottle next to your hip. You only had that bottle and one other. That was a worry for another time. 

“Do you think you can navigate us outta here when the sun comes up?” You asked. You tore off a small piece of meat and tapped his chin. He didn’t argue and accepted the offering, allowing you to lift his head slightly so he could swallow. 

“Damn sure gonna try.” His voice was raspy and tired, his eyes remaining closed. The incident and injury had left him drained. You wouldn’t be sleeping that night, that much was certain. 

“Alright. Then you need to rest.” With the meat wrapped and inside your bag, you settled against the wall, humming and running your fingers through his damp hair. 

The cabin was small, everything in one room. A stove on one side, a broken bed on the other. You distantly wondered why anyone would want to live such an isolated life with nothing but beavers and gators for company. 

Daryl groaned from your lap, your expression falling when you saw the pain etched into his sleeping face. There was no way the man would be fit to lead the two of you anywhere. You’d be lucky if he was even still alive when the sun rose. Your best bet was to stay put, keep him warm and hydrated until the others found you. Maybe you could go out and—no. You couldn’t leave him behind. 

How would the two of you get out of this one?

[strawberri-blonde]

From Palulukan Attacks to Fruit Baskets - Neteyam

Summary: You’re eagerly waiting for Neteyam to return from his hunt. But when he appears bruised and bloody, your irritation turns into a caring instinct, and you start taking care of him.

Warning: Meantions of blood, gashes and bruises, and curse words other than that it’s all good!

Masterlist:

Your heart beats in your throat as half the day's sunlight disappears. Your eyes scurried along the crowd of your people who had just ventured on direhouses coming from a hunt. You clenched your fist around your woven basket that carried all the delicious fruit you'd collect for the tribe's feast tonight. As the hunters poured in from the overnight hunt your nervousness jumbled as if his face wasn't alongside the first group of warriors.

You took a deep breath and slowly let it out, figuring that, of course, the son of the Olo'eyktan wouldn't appear first. He'd be alongside his father, making sure that no predators were stalking the game they managed to sacrifice for the great feast celebrating Eywa's great blessings.

That's why you weren't out hunting with your friends. It turns out that some of the gatherers made a mistake and ate a semi-poisonous berry, thinking it was the lionberry. So, the Ole'eyktan specifically asked you to stay behind and lend a hand, knowing that your mother was a skilled gatherer who had passed down her wisdom to you.

Those moments of picking fruit for your mother and carefully selecting the best ones for your father before a hunt hold a special place in your heart. It was during those times that your warrior spirit truly blossomed. From witnessing the hunters shooting arrows at targets to riding direhorses, it all resonated with you.

Growing up, when it was time for you to become an active clan member, there was no doubt that you wanted to be a strong warrior. You were dedicated to your training, always showing up early and putting in extra effort to excel. Even Jake Sully complimented you multiple times, saying you were the best in the class. His words always made you feel a bit bashful.

Training alongside the great Ole'eyktan was a bonus, especially with his son Neteyam. Neteyam had already earned his place as a mentor for future warriors, and his wisdom surpassed his years. He was truly incredible. Being the youngest ever to bond with an Ikran, he was there to help you bond with yours. Neteyam is not only smart, but he's also incredibly patient. You remember when he patiently guided your arms to help you shoot a gun, understanding that the human way of doing things was new to you. It may have been silly to have a crush on him, knowing that the elders were in the process of choosing someone for him, but you couldn't help it. He was just too easy to like; too easy to fall for.

As your eyes scan the group of hunters entering through the entrance flap, fear races when you realize that Jake is riding in without his sons Neteyam and Lo'ak. Since you oversaw the fruit, it made them down a member, so Jake allowed Lo'ak to join the hunt, which made you feel a bit anxious.

No doubt, you had a liking for Lo'ak. He's always been nice to you and knew how to make you laugh. But after years of pining over Neteyam, you couldn't help but notice how Lo'ak always seemed to get in trouble, no matter what. He was good at it. And what he was even better at was making Neteyam tag along. It always ended with the older brother getting yelled at or hurt; more often than not, it was both.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you witnessed Neytiri rushing towards the Ole'eyktan, her eyes filled with unmistakable worry. Your throat tightened, and a dry sensation washed over your mouth as your mind raced to make sense of the situation. Without thinking, your body instinctively reacted, carrying your feet towards the entrance. With determination, you forged your way through the frantic crowd, maneuvering yourself through the chaos. And then, in a sudden twist of fate, Neteyam and Lo'ak burst through the tall grass. The sight of them brought a mix of relief and surprise, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You couldn't help but notice the painful expression on his strong facial features. His lips were busted, causing him to wipe away the blood along his jaw. Neteyam's whole presence seemed disgruntled, his braids looking messy with twigs and leaves poking out here and there. His chest appeared darker as if a bruise was already beginning to form. Despite all of that, he still looked beautiful in your eyes. The decorative necklace had lost a few feathers, and the loincloth had been slightly torn, but it didn't make him look indecent.

Lo'ak's seemingly untouched appearance made your blood boil. With a stoic expression, you followed your father's advice about hiding your emotions and discreetly handed off the fruit basket to a passing Na'vi, ignoring their confused gaze.

Your swift movements caught the Sully family off guard as you approached the wounded prince. "Neteyam? What happened? Are you okay?"

You gently touched his cheek with an outstretched hand to look closer. Then, you noticed the hidden gash on his forehead, concealed by his braids. Carefully examining the cuts on his face and neck, you tenderly wiped away the blood to assess the extent of the injuries. Your shock grew as you saw deep cuts along his hairline and cheek. The wound under his jaw was equally severe, with torn skin and blood. One of the gashes on his arm leaked bright red liquid, a concerning sight.

"Neteyam?" Your voice rises in pitch with every word you say, "You're hurt!" and that's when the world around you becomes real again.

Who were you to walk up to Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, the prince of the Omatikaya clan, and his family? Who were you to touch his face? You were a nobody, just a warrior, and he was the Ole'eyktan's firstborn son, the heir to leading the clan someday.

Looking into his golden eyes, you crumbled under his gaze, dropping your hand from his cheek. Neteyam slowly blinked as if he couldn't believe you had done that, but he didn't pull away. "We were walking a little behind and ran into a Palulukan, that's it?" His tone was firm, but the pain in his voice was evident.

You felt nervous with his family's eyes on you, but seeing him hurt, the person with the kindest soul you admired, compelled you to act. Without hesitation, you gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, providing support like you would for his lower back.

"Oh, great, Eywa, let's ensure you get to Tsahík first. Your well-being should be our top priority. You've protected our feast, Neteyam." The words tumbled from your lips, and the Sully family exchanged glances, but luckily you didn't notice.

"Yeah, Y/n, you're right," Jake huffed before patting Neteyam's back, trying to offer him a comforting expression. But the clan leader knew something was up when Lo'ak didn't meet his eyes. "Thank you for looking out." With a firm nod, the Ole'eyktan gently pulled away from his oldest, grabbing Lo'ak's shoulder and pulling him alongside him, muttering, "What the hell happened? What happened to 'I won't cause trouble'?"

You glance at Neytiri and lower your head as a sign of respect. But the older woman stops you and gently lifts your chin, making you maintain eye contact. Her eyes no longer show worry; they hold gratitude, and her smile is comforting. "Take care of my baby," she says, words filled with warmth and trust.

"Mom," Neteyam groaned, and you couldn't help but giggle, causing Neytiri to share a giggle, too.

Seeing you and Neytiri laugh together made him feel better amidst the pain.

"Of course, Neytiri," you say, gently nudging Neteyam. Together, you start your journey towards the healers' tent. As you pass by, people stare, and some attempt to stop and ask what has happened. But with a glare, you make it clear that you won't entertain their questions and continue guiding the bloodied warrior toward the healing lodge.

"Tsahik!" you called out, eagerly pushing back the flaps of the tents in search of help. "Mo'at, are you here?"

"Grandmother!"

As you guided Neteyam towards the large woven mat, your hands could feel the stickiness of the blood, creating a sense of urgency. Your eyes scanned the chamber, and you realized it was empty, with the walls adorned with paintings of Eywa's creations. The bowls and jars of paste were neatly put away, and the air was still, carrying the lingering scent of herbs.

"Oh no," you exclaim, panic setting in as you look down at Neteyam's impressive muscular build and examine his wounds. "Why is no one here?"

Neteyam could sense the worry in your voice and feel it in your touch. Your hands were shaky as you gently pulled back his hair to access his skin better. Considering your skill in your field, it was unusual for you not to have a steady hand. Neteyam had witnessed your steady hand firsthand, so seeing this affected him deeply.

"Hey, it's fine. I'm okay." Neteyam's bloodied hands grasped yours, which were over his open wounds.

You shook your head, letting out a scoff in disbelief. "Only you would try to comfort someone when a Palulukan attacked you." This man was too good. He was so used to being a provider for his family and a whole clan that his selfless acts came naturally to him. But he didn't need to be in that role right now. Not with you.

While Neteyam chuckled out a "you got me" at your words, you took a deep breath, not allowing your little crush to get the best of you.

"Don't move." You mumbled out, pulling away from him reluctantly.

"Couldn't if I wanted to." Groans escaped his lips as you scurried around the tent, scrimmaging around to find specific herbs that your mother had taught you from her mother. Finding what you were looking for, you began looking for some needle and thread.

His silent, sharp breath intake makes you hurry through the material, and you let out a silent prayer as you find what you need. You rushed back to him, downing on your knees, scattering the material beside you to have it ready.

Firstly, you dipped your pointer and third finger in a bowl of brown paste made from mushrooms that had many health benefits, from pain relief to clotting blood. You collected the grainy substance and brought your fingers toward his busted lip. "Open." Neteyam didn't protest as you dragged the paste along his tongue, making his lick turn into a suck wiping your fingers clean. If not for his disheveled disposition, you might have passed out on the woven mat, needing medical attention.

You paused for a second to catch your breath, then turned your eyes to the large gash on his cheek. You apply more paste on the cut and smear it around until it hardens and seals the wound shut. You examine the rest of the injuries and use the paste and other healing materials to seal and sterilize his wounds - all the while, Neteyam remains quiet and still, eyes fixed on you.

As you gulped, your hands reached for the bucket of clean water near the post near the middle of the tent, ready to wipe away the dried blood and wasted paste from the parts of his skin that didn't need attention. "You always seem to amaze me." Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, taking in his complimentary words. Neteyam could see the disbelief in your eyes, so he continued. "I'm serious."

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth to dunk the rag back in the cool water to clean it of his blood. "I don't know about that." Neteyam's amber eyes didn't bother leaving your face as you moved towards his busted lip, ridding it of dirt and debris.

"Well, I know." His words struck something in you. Your breath haltered, realizing that you were so close to his face. Even with it being bruised and wounded, he never failed to be so beautiful.

A soft purple hue covered your face, reaching the tops of your pointy ears. Looking up from his lips trailing toward his eyes, electricity filled your body. "You're too kind." Your doe eyes captivated Neteyam's attention, making him inch closer to you. "I just had a great mentor to look up to."

"Your father is a remarkable hunter."

With a soft smile, you let the smile through your body as you hear Neteyam's words. You reach for the bucket and rinse the rag, savoring the moment. Then, you let your wet hands glide over his right forearm, feeling the softness of his skin. You grasp his wrist in your hand, being careful and gentle. Finally, you bring his hand towards the awaiting water, your eyes locked with his. "I wasn't talking about my dad," you say, your voice filled with a low tone.

This had Neteyam gulp, feeling your nimble fingers caress his skin. As your eyes held contact with him, he felt insecure for the first time in a while. A purple flashed on his cheeks from your intense gaze. Neteyam was the first to pull away from the moment, swaying his beaded hair over his shoulder.

You thought you made him uncomfortable, so you quickly grabbed his left wrist and tugged it toward the bucket to wash away the remaining dirt. But instead, you had his heart soaring, so it was surprising when he asked, "Are you going to the feast tonight?" Neteyam winced, realizing it was a silly question. After drying your hands, you passed him the towel and got up.

As you gathered the materials to put them away, your nerves jumbled together. You passed him glances and confidently said, "Of course, why wouldn't I?" It seemed like a loaded question, but you didn't give him time to reply. "Plus, my parents are using this feast to find potential mates." Without looking at Neteyam, you reached for a Spartan fruit in the woven basket on the counter.

What you didn't know was that the elders were doing the same tonight for Neteyam as well.

As you examined the variety of fruits, you picked two perfect-looking purple fruits and began to turn back around when Neteyam's voice echoed through your ears. "Then you and your family should sit with mine." His silent groans filled the air, along with shuffling. You whip your head in his direction, not believing what you were hearing.

You didn't move as he strolled over to take one of the spartan fruits out of your hand to bring it up toward his face, but he didn't bite into it yet. "It's the least I can do to thank you for caring for me. I also know you wanted to go on this hunt, but you had to stay behind to help gather food," he gestured towards the spartan.

You feel your heart pounding as you realize what Neteyam is suggesting. You are stunned and breathless, not knowing how to react to such a request. Your hands clutch onto the fruit, fingers tightly wrapped around it. Neteyam lifts the fruit to his lips and bites into it, his eyes drifting to you.

"You look like you just saw your first Ikran," he smiles, chewing playfully on the fruit. "I'm just asking you to sit with my family," he explains, glancing down at you.

"With the clan leaders." You mentioned making him smile softly.

"Just thought it was a nice gesture," Neteyam doesn't know where the courage it took for him to look in your doe eyes. "With our table overlooking the clan, I'd figure it'd give your parents the ability to see all the eligible people for you. Or maybe," the warrior paused as you picked a twig from his messy hair. "They won't need to look far."

You held onto the twig as if it had some magical power to keep you grounded. "Okay. I think I can get my parents to agree.” You managed to muster out, trying not to get your hopes up with his words. He was just being nice.

You took a bite of the purple fruit slurping up the sweet juices and chewing off the soft textured skin, “As long as you tell me the story about how you and Lo'ak encountered a Palulukan and you seemed to get your ass handed to you."

Neteyam lowered his head in a chuckle before biting himself into the goodness. “Of course! I’ll save you a seat next to me.”

This will be the last Neteyam fic until October, so follow up for updates!

~ Caroline

[redheadspark]

Can you write that Druig x Fem!eternal!reader have a fighting training moment, he tease her little bit during that so...😏 just fluff

A/N - Hey! Sorry for taking so long, I had to finish my prompt session! This was amazing to write, thanks for requesting this, anon!

Soft

Summary - Druig knows how to talk, but you know how to fight.

Warnings - Some teasing and some fluff :)

“Again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, do it again,”

You eyed him as he was making fists at his sides, his icy blue eyes were watching you like a predator who was eyeing his game.  To him, he probably thought this was a game, which made sense since he was the one who wanted to spar with you and learn how to fight.  Properly fight, in his words.  

But for him to ask you?  That threw you off since you knew you weren’t the best fighter amongst all the Eternals.  That was left to Thena, she made fighting look so easy and almost like a dance.  Even Gilgamesh was better at fighting than you were, with his brute strength he would knock a boulder back as if it were a flower petal.

Druig was no fighter, being the mind reader of you all he stayed out of the physical fights against the Deviants.  He could control a crowd of humans instantly with a simple gaze, so there was no real need for him to get his hands dirty.  

But he was intrigued and wanted to learn, which is what brought him to you one afternoon on the Domo before you were going to go on patrol with Gilgamesh.

“You just wanna….learn?” You asked him, seeing him fold his hands behind his back and simply give you his signature smirk and a shrug.

“Better to prepare myself in case it’s needed,” He replied smoothly, you giving him a suspicious look.  Druig was always mysterious to those around him, whether he tried to be or not.  There was always something hidden within him that no one could pinpoint, and this was one of those instances.  You looked from him to Gilgamesh, who simply shrugged and chuckled as you looked back at Druig.

“Why me?” You asked, seeing him smirk at you as his eyes drilled into yours.

“I heard you’re an excellent teacher,” he smoothly replied.  Gilgamesh snickered behind you, and you felt the tips of your ears burning.  Something in your mind was telling you that he was playing games with you, wanting to get a rise out of you and make you sweat.  He was always like this with the others, with you, when it came to his own amusement.  Snide remarks, and jokes under the breath, but they were all harmless in a way.  Yet this time, just in the way he said it and in how he was observing you for your reaction, you didn’t feel like giving him the light of day.

“Fine,” You replied shortly, seeing him grin widely in return.  

“Fine,” he echoed.  But you were already thinking of a great way to teach him how to fight.

By breaking him.

“Druig, I’m not gonna keep going if you’re on the verge of breaking an arm,” you advised him as he was souring off again, his feet planted on the ground and the adrenaline still seeping through his skin.  You could see it, his energy draining him with every round you two were doing.  It was making you want to ease and pull back a bit, but the other times you tried he was pushing you to not hold back with him.  From the very start, he wanted you to be hard with him, which surprised you when you both met up together in one of the smaller rooms in the Domo that was turned into a makeshift training room.

“I don’t want easy, understand?”

“You sure you wanna request that?”

“Yes. Don’t hold back with me,”

“I can do It,” he said to you, but even his voice sounded out of breath with his hair plastered to his head.  You rolled your shoulders, feeling some of the strain yourself since you both were sparring rather hard this day.  It was getting hard for you to find a good spot to pin him down, he was a faster learner and was picking up on questions and punches quickly.  Compared to the very beginning, you would be throwing him over your shoulder within two moves or knocking him off his feet with a swipe of your leg.  He wasn’t quick or light on his feet, he mostly had lead feet and slow hands.  

But if there was one thing Druig would never do, was quit.  

He took every beating and every defeat, his skin would be covered in bruises and his muscles would scream out in strain as the days rolled by.  But he would always show up, you think that he would fold after the first week or two.  Not that you had no faith in him, you did to a certain point.  But Druig was never a fighter by nature, and for him to go against his nature didn’t seem like him at all.  

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying I won’t.” You changed your wording, though now he was giving you an inquisitive look while you placed your hands on your hips.

“Sounds like you’re going soft on me,” he teased to which you raised a brow.

“This coming from you who is about to collapse in exhaustion,” You countered back, though he cracked a big grin.  You knew this was part of his game, using his words as a weapon to try his opponent off.  He did it with Ikaris so many times, along with Sprite when those two would get in a spat.  But now he was trying it with you, and you were trying your best to not let it show.

“You would like to see that, wouldn’t you?” He hummed, maybe hoping that you would smile.  But it was only giving your more adrenaline, to wipe the smirk off his face and to make him eat his words.  He saw your fists at your sides getting tighter and tighter, your legs locking in, and your eyes training in on him.

“Fine, we’ll go one more round,” You replied shortly, Druig’s smirk getting a bit bigger.  Perhaps he thought he got the best rise out of you and was going to win this little game he liked to play. But then again, he must not have known the side of you that you rarely showed the others, only in the heat of battle.  

“You know, softness does look good on you,” He said lightly.  You felt the lick of adrenaline come back over you again from his words, which were trying to shoot you like darts and trying to penetrate you.  But all you wanted to do at this point was shut him up, to somewhat put him in his place with how he was treating you.  There was no doubt you two were friends, but he also knew how to use his words to make himself feel superior.  It worked on Ikaris, on Sprite, and now he was trying to work it on you.

No. Not gonna happen

You made it across the room in a few strides, dodging the first punch he threw out with ease, and threw one back.  The sparring was brutal now, both of you going swiftly and with ease as punches and kicks were being thrown left and right.  Neither one of you were holding back, some cheap shots to the jaw or to the ribs and you dodging everything he gave you.  You did the same with him, noticing how quick he was now and simply not just trying to avoid a punch. 

But he got you in a good enough hold with both of your arms, his own arms wrapped around yours tightly as he was pressed against your side.  You tried to shrug it off one or twice, but he had some strength against him now as he chuckled right against you, almost in your ear.  His body heat longing for yours, his sweat mingling with yours, and simply being this close was enough to make you almost forget the position you were in.  The kind of intimacy that you had with the others being on the ship for so long together, you all had a connection of family and of leaning on one another.  

But this, this was different, this felt like a different kind of intimacy that you never felt before. The kind to make your heart beat a bit faster, to make your head a bit lighter, and that sense of safety being close to him.  But it was odd since he was always there, from the moment you all came to Earth.  Yet now, it felt like a shift.

“I like seeing this side of you, you know,” he said against your ear, making you almost shiver as you were still trapped in his hold, “And to think I got you all soft too,”

You glared.  That did it.

Pivoting with your leg, you pushed it up to be parallel to your body, then pushed Druig a bit to have your foot hit him square in the head as a distract him.  It worked, his grip on your arms loosening slightly but enough to have you move.  Throwing your leg back down as he stumbled from being kicked between the eyes, you know him back with your body and turn to back him.  You knocked him off his feet with your leg within a millisecond, seeing him fall on his back and you perched over him.  Grabbing his arm to pin it down with one hand and the other hand on his neck, right on a pulse point where you knew was his weak spot.

It all happened so quickly, one minute he had you pinned against him and the next he was pinned beneath you on the ground.  But something inside of you snapped, something animalistic and that wanted to prove that you weren’t going to be swayed by him.  You knew your own strength, your own worth when it came to being in a fight, and your ability.  But the way Druig was looking up at you, pinned to the ground and having no way of getting out of it, you saw something in his eyes.  There wasn’t hate, nor was there rage that you won at his own game.

Shock?  Astonishment?  What was it?

“Am I soft now?” You asked, your hand on his neck still soft enough to let him breathe but there was still a grip to keep him in control.  He gulped, you feeling it along your fingers as his blue eyes were searching yours.  Now he was hard to read, which was bothering you now since you felt like you went too far in both kicking him in the head and slamming him to the ground.  But then again, he was keeping his eyes on you.  No longer was he looking at you like some prize, there was another way he was looking at you.  Yet you couldn’t pinpoint it.

“No,” He gasped, not in pain, but out of breath.  Slowly, you were moving your hand away from his neck, right where you were feeling his pulse dancing against his skin and along your fingers.  This was a new sense of intimacy neither of you ever experienced with one another before, and it was fresh and raw and new.  Something inside of you was frightened by this, but it also felt….right. 

You released his arm and his neck, moving quickly to go back up on your feet and holding your hand out for him to grasp.  He was still sprawled on the floor, frozen like he was stuck against the ground, and had his eyes still on you in amazement.  You surprised him plenty of times in sparring sessions, yet this didn’t look like a surprise.  It looked like he was….having an out-of-body movement.

“We’re done for the today, okay?” You asked gently, seeing him finally move his arm up to grasp your hand.  You hoisted him up, seeing him nod his head and still silent as you smiled.  The mood was still tense amongst the pair of you, but it was better than how it was a moment before when you two were tangled in each other’s arms.  

“Come on, let’s get some food,” You said to him, seeing him smile in return for the first time.  It made you feel better to see him smile, not to see him scowl or seem angry with how you handled him. But then again he did ask for you not to hold back, to not reserve your strength to him.  You walked on, thinking he was behind you as you were feeling rather flushed from what just occurred.

You didn’t realize that you left Druig there, speechless with one of his hands reaching up to touch his neck where your fingers were.  You didn’t realize that his mind was turning and wandering to new thoughts, and new feelings.  

You especially didn’t realize that he was suddenly enraptured with you.

The End.

Tagging - @a-lumos-in-the-nox @botanicalbarnes @virtueassassin @saradika @heartofwritiing @pemberlyy @heliosphere8 @reader6898

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

You've done Fidough, yes, but what about Dachsbun? Would the sweet bread doggo evolution make a good pet? ❤️

[I have indeed covered fidough, so I’ll be sure to link to it at the bottom of this post!]

The “sweet bread doggo”, as you put it, would indeed make a good pet! Dachsbuns nearly warrant a “just a dog” rating, and perhaps I should’ve just gone for it, but the lack of data about this fairly recently discovered species makes it difficult to make a firm ruling. This will probably be a shorter post (something I tell myself literally every time), but let’s jump right into it.

To begin with, dachsbuns are a perfect size to be a house pet! They don’t seem to have greater space needs than any real-world dogs do, and they would be pretty easy to transport around. Much like their pre-evolution, fidough, dachsbuns are incredibly friendly and personable. They’ve long been a staple of farming villages in places like the Paldea region, as their peculiar-but-pleasant aroma is said to help wheat grow (Scarlet), so they’ve long been domesticated and have lived peacefully alongside humans. Whereas fidough would make great pets for bakers because of the natural aid they can providing yeast (gross but cool, I guess), dachsbuns would make great pets for farmers due to their natural ability to help crop growth.

A very important thing to keep in mind with this species is that they may be prime targets for certain predators. Like mentioned above, these pokémon emit a powerful smell, described in the pokédex as both “pleasant” and “appetizing” (Scarlet, Violet). This might make a dachsbun that’s playing outside the target of attacks from hungry pokémon. That’s not to say that a dachsbun could’nt defend themselves, of course. They have a natural defense against fiery attacks, as their skin hardens to protect them when faced with intense heat (Violet), and they can use a variety of moves to fight back or even disarm enemies with moves like Baby-Doll Eyes. That being said, the world of pokémon is a pretty crazy place, so I wouldn’t recommend letting your dachsbun play outside without supervision.

Thankfully, these pokémon aren’t all too dangerous to humans, all things considered. Moves like Bite, Crunch, and Double Edge can pack a punch, but their small size and friendly demeanor makes them not much more dangerous than a real-world dog.

If you’re looking to adopt a pokémon that doesn’t differ too much from real-world pets, a dachsbun might make the perfect pick for you (especially if you love the smell of just-baked bread)!

The Fidough Post:

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 5: Yandere Hawks

You know, people should be real glad he's such a nice guy. A Hero. Cause it was WAY too easy to get Her files. Tsk, tsk. Such poor security! He's kinda disappointed, honestly. He was sorta expecting a bit of a challenge.

It IS a Goverment building after all.

But maybe it's 'cause she's not a Hero herself. She's a civilian. So they don't care as much. You'd think you'd just get universal security and then lock down the Heroic files, but no. Glorified safes and lock boxes. Clear and traceable holes in all SORTS of bloodlines.

Gee, wonder why Mr. and Mrs. So-n-So have a redacted kid! Bet THEY'RE not related to any Heros! Sure won't be easy to just go to their HOUSE an find their kid's name THERE along with a few hostages!

It's theater. A joke, really. He's kinda GLAD he basically has no family, if THIS is the security they'd get.

Good thing he's removing Her files. They'll be MUCH safer with him~. A few dummy files left in their plaaaace, aaaand... back out through the blind spots in the camera coverage! Honestly, he's done harder exercises with his feathers literally concussed.

Ooooh~☆ Like that one. And that one~!

He keeps flipping through his social feeds. Might as WELL multi-task. Selfie with the skyline~♡! Aaaand upload. There we go, that's his #Aesthetic post of the day. Now PR will have nothing to complain about. Hmmmm, should like a few memes. Don't comment on THAT scandal. Joke about THAT one. Post a thirst trap modeling pic... aaaand...

He feels his feathers escape the building. Finally! It was his last hit of the night. File finally in hand, he lazily rolls to his feet, stretchs. Tucks the file away but not his phone. Then let's himself drop forward into open air. Let's his wings CATCH.

The magnificent slide of cool air against his feathers, the resistance of wind against his wings. He soars and for a moment... let's himself feeling nothing else. It is perfect.

It always is.

First things first, dropping of the files. Gotta keep them safe after all. Then... then he SHOULD be going to bed. Heck, if he doesn't feel like going alone, it's not like he doesn't have OPTIONS. He honestly has too many. But even then, the thought of it's exhausting...

They want The Mask. And yeah, sometimes it's FUN being the mask. Good for PR. Adds to his good reputation when they inevitably talk.

And they always DO talk.

They spread the word exactly as he expects them too. Dispite swearing, to the last, not to breathe a word. The picture of discretion, they PROMISE, Hawks~♡! Ha. 'Course they are. Pretty, chatty, birds. Picked for their scandal free backgrounds, photo ready faces, and hero positive attitudes.

He gets a LIST for every event he goes too. Has several, ranging from "approved in general" to "by region". Really... the height of romance, his meet-cutes. Picture perfect down to the last detail.

You'd almost thing a team of handlers PLANNED them for him.

Not to say the sex isn't great. Sex is always nice! Just... not when you're not in the mood for something REAL, ya know? When you want to get... get MESSY.

Hunt someone. See those eyes dilate, utterly AWARE and focused completely on HIM. That moment of indecision. Stay and fight? Run? Watching the scales tip and clatter in ruin to the floor. Run. Let um get a head start. RUN. Want to see those Big BEAUTIFUL Wings snap out to their full width, massive and powerful, and RIP through the air as they fling her into the sky. RUN!!!

Run away, lil predator. He's coming to CATCH you~

God, she'd be so POWERFUL in the air. So DANGEROUS. Eating up the distance like she actually stood a CHANCE. Those wings, so far from fragile its laughable. But... oh. Oh, he's FASTER. So, so much faster. Agile in a way her raw power robs her off.

She would never be able to fight him off. Would have NO chance to truely escape.

And then?

Then it's a matter of stamina. Training. And only ONE of them's a Hero~

He'd harry her. Feathers flying from ever angle, deadly sharp and far too close. Better dodge! Use your quirk! Oh DEAR, uses stamina as a fuel source does it? Hope you have ENOUGH~!

Little cuts. Kicks here and there. Pushing her lower~ Pushing her lower~ Watch out for that building! Uh oh! Powerlines! Large wingspan is a benefit in open air~ but it works against you heeeeereeeee~! Better LAND, lil harpy!

Before he knocks you from the SKY.

And he WOULD. God, it would be AMAZING. If he got her at just the right angle? He could kick her into a building, a tree, SOMETHING. Or maybe as she goes to flap? He could trap a wing. She'd DROP.

Wrap her torso in enough feathers to pin it. Slow her fall juuuust enough to really hurt, but keep her from hitting wrong. Ah~ bet she'd SCREECH. Struggle and lash like a cornered animal. Wing slamming the dirt helplessly, flapping uselessly, as she tries SO hard to get free... heart pounding, legs kicking, adrenaline surging through her veins~

He Wins, lil fighter~ now he gets his prize~♡

Ah, he bets you'd BITE. If the HPSC wouldn't kill him for it, he'd probably LET you. Let you scar him up in your rage. Leave your mark. You'd be so PISSED at losing. So nervous. And he can get that, vulnerability is a lot. Big, strong, walls all crumbling down? It'd feel like raw nerves. Being SEEN.

And he'd SEE her alright.

Even if she managed to avoid it. Managed to land, run, get herself nice and lost. He'd chase her down. Wear her down. Til the anger has no more fuel to burn. The threats have no more strength. Make her run and fight and run and climb and RUN... until her body just? Can't any more.

All struggled out~

Nothing but muscles shaking and bruises, feather cuts and the sweat that burns them. Gasping for air that can't seem to come fast enough. She never stood a chance~ But he let her try anyway.

And god. All his senses would be ON FIRE. Practically high on it. He'd be everything he's NOT supposed to be. Every instinct he's supposed to shove down on full glorious display.

He'd feed her till she CHOKES. She wouldn't get a choice. Watch the grease run down her pretty face and neck. Run his fingers through those pretty feathers and feel HIS against her skin. Preening and so, so pretty. All clean~ All those pretty little cuts and poor lil scrapes.

He put his merch on Each And Every One~

Little red feather band-aids all pretty on her skin~♡

His~ Won fair an square. Gotta take care of it. Blood and grease and sweat. Find all the places that make his Harpy bird squirm. But she can't escape. Not ever escape. He won. His, his, his. He'd make those place feel NICE. Watch her as she feels good.

She'd be so tired. So sore. She'd WANT to feel good. Be so tired of fighting and pretending. Hungry. And he'd be so good about how he takes care of her. Cause he's a HERO. Massaging hands and feathers that hold her nice and still. Careful kisses and playful teasing. Then? He'd hold those powerful, exhausted, thighs open and show her what worship feels like.

She'd make SUCH cute noises. He bets he could make her beg. Could probably make her cry.

He's fantasized, before, about not holding back. When some hero chaser is in his bed, with the "real" Hawks. Performing once again, a different facet of the Mask, all the better to pretend he is a Real Boy. Ha! What would be like? To do nothing but feel GOOD? To concentrate on pleasure? The feeling of his body moving?

To GRAB and put his back into it? Knowing damn well he'd leave bruises. Because he's stronger then them. Because his body is a weapon. Because wires in his brain were mixed up long, long ago and nothing can possibly undo it now. Wanting to snarl and shred everything around him as he rams home, deep and good like he's melting.

Wants feathers EVERYWHERE. Under him, against his skin, attached to whomever he's fucking. A God damned NEST. With blankets and feathers and tatami.

Wants to be BONELESS for how hard he fucked. How much effort it took. A marathon and a national EVENT. Wants to put on a parade and have a feast and then RUIN all of it. It's like screaming in his head, sometimes. All the instincts he is forced to repress and ignore. They blend together. Violence and hunger and horny and NEEDY AND ANGER AND-!

He lands. Outside her apartment. He's seen rats live in better places. It's an unkind assessment. But he's abruptly feeling kind of... agitated. He really should push her towards a better job. Like working for him. Or living with him. Or being HIS. Maybe both. And he'll need to hunt down a few insurance agents. Have some TALKS.

He slips a few feathers into the building. Her neighbor sleeps with the window cracked. From there? The vents. Gotcha~

The steady sound of breathing. Asleep. The rhythmic pattern... knowing it's from HER... it's...

It's soothing.

He settles back into a watchful crouch. He's still on edge. Hard. But nothing he can't fix. He has a pretty good angle from where he's perched. You forgot to fully close your blinds. And his eye sight is EXCELLENT. You look so relaxed~♡

He feels you breathe. Gently, ever so gently, let's one of his feathers drift forward to land carefully against a cheek. Warm. He can feel your pulse.

He strokes himself franticly. The cold air of night time just adding to the thrill as it teases everywhere his hand is not. His handlers would HATE this. The HPSC would NEVER allow it. He presses his other had to his face, to muffle his voice, as he desperately tries to both buck his hips AND keep his balance. So good. God she looks so VULNERABLE~

He milks the tip. Finally giving in to the urge to BITE his hand, glove leather filling his mouth. The only think keeping him upright on the phone poll he landed on, is the feathers he's grabbed himself with. And even THAT reminds him of his earlier fantasies. He spills, jerking, and raining down on the unsuspecting street below.

Good thing it's so late at night.

His entire body is riding the aftershocks. Sensitive and good. Euphoric. He laughs, wild eyed as he stares down at his hand. How depraved~ His lil hunter is certainly bringing out the worst of him, isn't she? Or maybe it's the best? It's certainly SOMETHING. And god, is it HUNGRY.

He looks back at her sleeping face as he licks his hands clean...

He should do this again~

[dark-elf-writes]

Write more biblically accurate Hawks you coward

“I’m going to regret asking this? But how?”

For his part Hawks didn’t so much as look up at the question, still sitting cross legged on his desk happily munching away from the bucket of fried chicken resting in his lap like he belonged there. It was almost enough for Vlad King to decide to try his luck at strangling the new Number Two hero… almost.

“How am I so handsome? Genetically lottery.”

Vlad sighed, long and soul deep. “How did 1-A convince you to cover yourself in googly eyes and serve as their high priest.”

That actually got a laugh out of Hawks. Bright and sharp. As sunning as his frequent displays of falling feathers and twice as deadly. “Convinced? Vladdy baby, I offered.”

A million questions jumped to his tongue. Why? What did Hawks get out of it? Why those kids? How the hell did Hawks have the time to humor them when he should be patrolling? Why the fucking eyes? The only thing that managed to trip its way over his clumsy tongue, however was, “Don’t call me that.”

A scoff around another bite of chicken, a dismissal of he had ever heard one, but Vlad stayed rooted to where he was. It was his desk that Hawks had taken over if nothing else. After a minute, and once the chicken bones had been picked clean and tossed in a perfect arc into the garbage can across the room, Hawks sighed.

“Look, I don’t expect someone like you to get it and honestly I don’t care enough to try to put it into words that you might actually understand, so let me tell you everything you need to know: those kids are different. Special even. That’s why I offered.”

Vlad blinked. “That’s it?”

“As far as you need to be concerned, yes. I think they’re interesting. They think the eyes are funny. Everyone except you wins in the end.”

“And you expect me to just accept that?”

All at once the air in the room changed. Hawks didn’t move. Didn’t rustle a single feather or set the bucket of fried chicken to the side. Still, Vald could feel the danger pouring off of him in waves. Could all but taste it on his tongue. He remembered then who Hawks was other than the odd little man that broke into UA every other week or covered himself in plastic eyes for the apparent delight of children he found “interesting”. He was Japan’s Number Two Hero hand picked and trained by the Commission themselves to be the ultimate idea of a hero. He took the missions no one ever heard about, taking care of all of the Commission’s dirty little secrets, then washed the blood from his hands and came out to pose for the cameras, the perfect irreverent pretty boy once again.

When Hawks smiled at him that time, it was nothing short of a threat. “It’s the answer you’re being given. I don’t care if you accept it or not.”

Vlad couldn’t say a word if he wanted to. Couldn’t drag his eyes away from the man, the predator, in front of him either.

Behind him, the door opened. Hawks didn’t look away from him when he spoke. “How’s it hanging, Eraser? Miss me?”

Great. Now Vlad was stuck between two eldritch abominations that wanted him dead. This was exactly how he wanted his afternoon to go.

Something sailed through the air, and Hawks caught it without looking, causing a merry jingle. When those eyes finally did leave Vlad’s face, slowly like they were savoring every second of his discomfort and wanted to draw it out just a bit longer, all of the tension left with it. Hawks was just a man again, sitting and enjoying lunch on a desk that wasn’t his.

Hawks snorted at the pack of little plastic eyes in his hand. “I thought I didn’t count as supervision, Eraser.”

“You don’t. Fuyumi will also be there.”

“Oh? The Princess?” Hawks’ smile went sharp in a completely different way.

Behind him, Eraserhead snorted. “She will eat you alive.”

Hawks laughed, bright and easy and so at odds from the animal stillness mere moments before. “As fun as that sounds, I’m gunning for her big brother and nothing pisses him off more than someone flirting with his sister.”

Vlad was out of the room before Eraser could respond again, wisely deciding that the desk was well and truly no longer his.

[yourheartonfire]

Secret Santa 2024!

This one is for @wren-l-winter for the secretsanta2024 exchange! Prompt: Explore the dynamic between two rivals. One, an ancient vampire, and the other, a new vampire hunter eager to have her name written into legends.

It was a properly dramatic confrontation. Sheeting rain, lightning flashes, a marble floored pavilion in the middle of the city's oldest cemetery. The hunter skidded across the water-slicked surface on one knee, ending in a half-spin and a perfect three point landing, sword out and eyes narrowed.

The ancient vampire, the dreaded apex predator herself, rolled her eyes. "For fuck's sake," she said in a perfectly modern accent, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "It's going to be a clear night tomorrow, and this rain is going to wreak hell on all that fancy leather you're wearing. Can't we do this then?"

The hunter sprang. The sword flickered out. The vampire flung herself down into a shoulder roll. Sparks exploded against the pillar, inches from where her neck had been moments ago.

"Ow," said the vampire, brushing water off the shoulder of her wool coat. Somehow, none of the rain seemed to stick to her pale skin or dark hair. "How fun to see someone with a sense of the dramatic. Do you talk?"

"No," the hunter said and lunged again.

The vampire hissed, dodging and retreating from the flurry of blows, leaping with superhuman grace up onto the banister. "C'mon, kid. I'm giving you a chance here to walk away. I don't know which mothball-ridden cult trained you in sword-fu or whatever this is, but I can tell you this won't end well. It never ends well for your type."

"Don't try to get in my head, you monster!" the hunter snarled. "I grew up on social media, and believe me, your psychological warfare has nothing on unsupervised teenage girls."

The vampire arched a flawless eyebrow. "Oh honey. If that's your idea of evil, you are not at all prepared for this."

"If that's so," the hunter said with just the tiniest sneer, "why are you retreating?"

The vampire shrugged, and thunder boomed behind her as she spun around a pillar. "Maybe I'm sick of killing. Maybe the long centuries have infected me with a sense of empathy. Maybe I just don't want to deal with vampire hunter secret society bullshit again. The last time that was in fashion was the nineties. You don't want to go back there, kid. The economy was great but those cargo pants were a nightmare."

The hunter flicked water off her sword. "I think you're afraid," she said, letting the tip of her sword ring against the marble as she stalked closer. "I think you've gotten too comfortable, too lazy. Too used to picking off the easy targets. You don't remember what it's like to face a real threat-"

"I think you're dulling your blade," the vampire said with a half smile.

For a brief moment, the hunter glanced down. The vampire moved.

The world turned upside down with a painful crack, and suddenly the hunter was on her back, head dangling over the edge of the loggia. Hands empty, wrists pinned.

The hunter froze, adrenaline turning to ice in her veins. Oh god, her veins. Oh, no no no. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

"So," the vampire said with a fanged smile, shifting her weight over the hunter's hips. "Now what, honey?"

The hunter swallowed, and then flinched as the vampire's eyes flicked down to her throat. "You said something about a rain delay?" she said hoarsely.

The vampire chuckled, a noise like glass shattering. Her eyes seemed to widen, turning a honey-golden color as slow and sticky and sweet as molasses. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Who are you, sweetheart? More importantly - who sent you?"

The hunter gasped and slammed her eyes shut, before the hypnosis could take her.

"Now, now," the vampire purred. "No need for loyalty. You have potential, I'll grant you that, but whoever it was that sent you after me as your first target is either cruel or insane. Or," she said thoughtfully, almost to herself, "they wanted to send a message. Run a pawn out to take a swing at the queen, while they get the board in order. What an opening move. Where did that sword go?"

Abruptly the vampire's weight and grip were gone. The hunter flailed up to her feet with all the grace of an overturned hedgehog. The vampire was across the pavilion, examining the blade, her back to the hunter as if she'd dismissed her from her thoughts. As if the hunter was nothing.

"I am not a pawn!" the hunter screamed, water running down her face and empty hands. "They sent me to end you and I will!"

"Sweet girl," the vampire said, tucking the sword smoothly into her belt as she stood. "You're a Christmas gift to me from an old enemy. A little holiday treat before the real fight begins." She tilted her head. The hunter took a step back. "But. You do have potential. I'm rather curious to see what happens if you do make it across the board, if you'll be a rook, a bishop, a knight. Yes. A little catch and release might be fun. You go on back to your masters, tell them I reject their trap. Look them in the face and ask them what game they are playing. But-" The vampire's eyes lit up from within. "-that's after you pay the penalty."

The hunter turned and fled. She made it down before a clawed hand caught in her hair, yanking her back into an iron embrace.

"J'adoube, little pawn," the vampire whispered into her ear. Hot breath and sharp points sank into the hunter's throat and everything went white and cold.

[shiftthemoon]

── .✦ SNEAKING INTO THE FORBIDDEN FOREST ? READ THIS GUIDE !

if you’re reading this, you’ve officially gone mad. brilliant, good for you. the forest isn’t just trees and shadows; it’s death with a personality. most of it either bites, poisons, or curses you. the rest? probably waiting to eat your corpse. still, if you’re dead set on going in there (or someone double-dog-dared you), this guide might keep you alive. maybe. don’t get your hopes up.

there’s no “one size fits all” for forest survival. what happens depends on what you find—or what finds you first. and don’t act like you’re invincible just because you know a few spells. the forbidden forest doesn’t care. so read this, prepare smart, and try not to die.

DAYTIME PREP: don’t wait until the last minute, silly

this isn’t some “grab your wand and vibes” situation. the forest is a predator playground. get your life together now. here’s how.

🧳 WHAT TO BRING !

1. your wand:

• i shouldn’t have to say this, but you do need it.

• make sure it’s polished, properly tuned (ollivanders will hex me for saying this, but a quick rub with moondew helps), and capable of these spells:

• lumos: obviously. but practice dimming it (lumos minima) so you’re not a walking lighthouse.

• nox: don’t forget to turn it off.

• protego: your shield charm will save your life, but only if you’re fast.

• stupefy: stunning. aim well; miss once, and you’re done.

• incendio: it’s fire. creatures hate fire. you should love fire.

• episkey: minor healing charm. it won’t regrow your arm, but it’ll stop the bleeding.

• silencio: for you, your mates, or something noisy trying to give away your location.

if you need a wand:

• nick one. i don’t care where. no wand, no chance. but if you’re desperate, try borrowing one from a younger kid—first years are easy to bribe with chocolate frogs.

2. an invisibility solution:

• option 1: cloak. potter has one. nick it if you can.

• option 2: disillusionment charm. harder than it looks. practice near the lake; the squid won’t judge you.

• option 3: don’t get seen. dark robes, quick feet, and shadows are your best mates.

3. snacks (for creatures, not you):

• honeydukes chocolate: nifflers and centaurs like it. snag it from honeydukes.

• raw meat: thestrals are carnivores. ask the kitchen elves—they’ll think it’s for your owl.

• woodlice or shiny things: bowtruckles will pick bark over your eyeballs if you bribe them.

• coins or fake jewels: nifflers don’t care if it’s real, as long as it’s shiny.

4. healing gear:

• dittany: nothing heals like this. sneak into greenhouse three during herbology class. sprout keeps the best batch behind the fanged geraniums.

• murtlap essence: for bites and burns. ask hagrid; he always has some.

• a bezoar: if you’re worried about poison, snag one from snape’s potions cupboard. pray he doesn’t catch you, or the bezoar won’t be your only problem.

5. clothes:

• quiet boots. no squeaky soles.

• dark robes that don’t glitter (you’re not at the yule ball).

• gloves. trust me, some plants bite.

6. extras for safety:

• a rope: in case of quicksand or to climb trees. steal from hagrid’s shed.

• lantern or enchanted candles: lumos is great, but a backup light won’t hurt.

• a map of the forest (if you can find one): rumor says the centaurs have some, but good luck convincing them to share.

ESCAPING HOGWARTS: don’t get caught before you even start

hogwarts is a bloody maze, and you will run into someone if you’re not careful. professors and filch have schedules, and if you don’t know them, you’re done for.

🧙‍♀️ WHERE THE PROFESSORS ROAM :

1. mcgonagall:

• loves the first-floor hallways after dinner. stick to the west wing if you’re moving early.

2. snape:

• lives in the dungeons and stalks them like a greasy bat. avoid the lower levels entirely. if you must go down there, hug the shadows near the potion shelves.

3. filch & mrs. norris:

• unpredictable. loves the staircases, especially the third-floor landing.

🗺️ SECRET PASSAGEWAYS TO USE

1. humpbacked witch statue (third floor):

• tap the statue with your wand and say, “dissendium.” it’ll drop you into a tunnel straight to honeydukes cellar. brilliant for sneaking into the forest via hogsmeade.

2. mirror near the library (fourth floor):

• move the frame. the passage pops out behind hagrid’s hut.

3. tapestry of barnabas the barmy (seventh floor):

• leads to a staircase near the great hall exit.

4. kitchen corridor:

• tickle the pear on the painting of the fruit bowl. crawl through.

THE FOREST: how to survive

it’s not just trees. the forest is alive with creatures—some lovely, some terrifying.

⚠️ THE ZONES

• the thestral glade: eerie but quiet. carnivores, but they won’t bother you if you’re chill.

• acromantula territory: webbed trees = run.

• unicorn pools: shimmering water, pure vibes, very rare.

• centaur trails: hoofprints mark them. don’t stray; they’re territorial.

• dark caves: deep, damp, and cursed. avoid unless you want to meet something worse than spiders.

🕷️ THE CREATURES

1. acromantulas:

• danger: lethal.

• massive spiders with a taste for meat.

• what to do: back away slowly. don’t scream, and don’t run. use incendio if they’re too close.

2. thestrals:

• danger: chill, if respected.

• skeletal horses. they’re carnivorous, but they won’t eat you unless provoked.

• what to do: offer raw meat. they’ll vibe with you if you’re polite.

3. hippogriffs:

• danger: depends on your manners.

• proud and powerful.

• what to do: bow. wait for them to bow back. don’t get cheeky.

4. boggarts:

• danger: emotional damage.

• takes the form of your worst fear.

• what to do: riddikulus. laugh, even if you’re dying inside.

5. unicorns:

• danger: none.

• pure and shy.

• what to do: stay soft. let them approach you.

6. werewolves (during the full moon):

• danger: instant death.

• feral and fast.

• what to do: climb a tree and pray.

7. centaurs:

• danger: medium.

• intelligent but territorial.

• what to do: no sudden movements. speak respectfully.

8. red caps:

• danger: sneaky.

• little goblin-like creatures that thrive in blood-soaked areas.

• what to do: light scares them. use lumos maxima.

9. hinkypunks:

• danger: misleading. lure travelers with lanterns into danger, though will rarely be sighted around here.

• what to do: lumos maxima breaks their hold.

10. grindylows:

• danger: moderate. water-dwellers with grabby fingers.

• what to do: stay out of the water. expelliarmus disarms their grip.

11. erkling:

• danger: high. goblin-like with mesmerizing laughter.

• what to do: cotton in ears, stupefy.

SNEAKING BACK IN

1. timing:

• be back by 4 a.m. professors wake early, and you don’t want to meet mcgonagall in a corridor.

2. clean up:

• mud, twigs, or spider guts? get rid of it before someone sees.

3. cover story:

• “couldn’t sleep. went to the library.”

• or, “peeves pulled into one of his pranks. you know how he is.”

final thought: you’re either brave or stupid, but at least you’re prepared. good luck. or not. the forest doesn’t care.

[lassieposting]

Chinhands

Okay so like, long post incoming, but here me out:

This isn’t my first post on Astarion & CPTSD – there’s this one here, about some of the more obvious symptoms he might end up dealing with during his healing journey; there’s also this one, about some ways his lover might use magic to help support him in a world without therapy; and then there’s this one, which is headcanons rather than meta, but has my thoughts on vampires as camouflage predators, and how Astarion might change physically as he goes from starving to well-fed. Those kinda tie into this so, linked for easy context.

But those posts all focus on the visible aspects of CPTSD – the symptoms everyone around you can pick up on. And. The thing is. A lot of the longterm effects of extensive trauma are actually not outwardly obvious. They're quiet. Insidious. Fundamental facets of your worldview become warped and twisted by your traumatic experiences. You look at the world - or at least, the parts of the world affectd by your trauma - through a goddamn funhouse mirror, and that's your normal. And part of the healing process - I'll pause here for us all to share a collective bitter laugh - is realising just how broken your idea of How The World Works is, and having to relearn from the ground up how things actually function outside of your trauma bubble.

So, y’all know what I think Astarion would struggle with without even realising it?

Disordered eating. A messy, complicated, love-hate relationship with food and how feeding makes him feel about himself.

Like. Most living things are hardwired to avoid certain negative experiences. A creature that has starved will often hoard food to ensure they won’t starve again. A creature that has fallen from a great height and experienced physical pain will be more careful to avoid other falls in future. A social creature that has experienced humiliation or disgrace will be distressed by those feelings, and adjust their behaviour to try and avoid feeling them again. The more bad experiences we have with a specific stimulus – drinking blood, in Astarion's case - the more we associate that stimulus with the negative physical or emotional consequences we will suffer, and the more avoidant we are likely to become.

As a real life example: an autistic child who talks enthusiastically about her special interest and is met with mockery and social rejection by her classmates will learn to hide her authentic self from the world to try and fit in: the pain of the bullying motivates her to distance herself from her own autistic tendencies, which are an essential component of how her brain works. She ends up trapped between her deep desire to engage with her special interest, and the training she has received from her peers that to do so is bad, unacceptable, social suicide. She learns to hate her autistic behaviours for causing her to be bullied, but she still feels the need to engage in them.

Astarion is in the same boat. He craves blood anyway as a vampire, and the hunger is made all the more intense because he is starving. But for the first 200-ish years of his undeath, we know that feeding has been a deeply unpleasant experience for him, and that will have left a deep imprint on how he sees the act of feeding, how it makes him feel. To eat is one of the most basic instincts of every single living (and, in this case, undead) creature, a fundamental source of positive emotions (satisfaction, fullness, satiety, enjoyment, happy taste buds etc) with a massive impact on a creature's quality of life - and Cazador has gleefully warped and twisted the very concept into an attack on his spawns' personhood. He uses it to dehumanize and humiliate them, and that's all they've ever known. So they will have learned to associate feeding with deeply negative emotions - humiliation, shame, disgust, fear and pain. For example:

STARVATION

Astarion tells us that Cazador fed him just barely enough to keep him functioning. Starvation is a trauma that, on its own, is likely to cause disordered coping behaviours in the victim. We actually see some of these in-game:

Astarion keeps a sizeable stash of bottled blood in his tent. This is an example of resource hoarding – he’s afraid of starving again, and he’s stockpiling food as a safeguard.

Individuals who have suffered starvation (or who have been forced to follow a restrictive diet by a parent as adolescents) often find that they struggle to impose healthy limits on their own food intake once food is plentiful lor they age out of the parent’s dietary control). We see this in Astarion during the bite scene: he can kill the player character if they fail a roll to convince or force him to stop feeding before he drains them dry.

We know that Astarion's feeding time is late at night – he tells the player that he’ll come to them for a meal once they’re in their bedroll and everyone is asleep. This seems like a strange choice, considering Astarion's tenuous self-control, but my personal headcanon is that he feeds so late because, like many starved creatures, he’s food-aggressive. Cazador absolutely seems the type to throw an insufficient number of rats to his starving spawn for them to fight over: Astarion is likely used to having to viciously defend his paltry meal, or one of his siblings will take it from him. So the player starts out offering him breakfast along with everyone else – but they’re interrupted, Gale nearly loses a hand when Astarion snaps at him, and the decision is made to feed him separately, so he doesn’t feel threatened.

SENSORY DISTRESS

Astarion talks about being compelled to choke down the blood of bugs and putrid rat corpses - at one point idly remarking that, "I've eaten things that would disgust most vultures." - so we know that a lot of what Cazador was feeding him was a) already dead and b) actively going off, and that offers up so many potential sensory triggers.

After death, blood begins to coagulate, clotting and curdling into a semisolid - that could be a texture issue.

Rotting corpses smell vile - that could be a scent issue.

We know putrid corpse blood doesn't taste good to vampires - iirc he calls it sewer water or dirty ditch-water, in comparison to "plonk" (woodland animal blood) and "fine wine" (the player character's blood).

Corpses often also come with the lovely bonus of maggots, which are a hardcoded signal to humans (and presumably elves) that food is no longer fit for consumption. The disgust response is instinctive, to make us avoid eating the rotten item. But Astarion would’ve had to choke it down anyway – probably wanting to hurl all the while.

NEGATIVE ASSOCIATIONS

Astarion tells us at one point that if he refused the disgusting carcasses Cazador gave him, his alternative was being flayed alive. That makes the disgusting food a choice, and one he doesn't really have any choice but to make. He would also need to be fed after his torture sessions in the kennels, to give him enough blood to heal himself before being sent out after more victims. This would eventually build a link in his mind between being fed and being hurt.  

There's also a dialogue where Astarion explicitly tells us that Cazador would suggest they dine together after Astarion brought someone home for his master to feed on. The alternative, as above, is getting flayed. So that makes a horrible three-way feedback loop of negative emotions: being forced to prostitute himself -> being forced to feed -> being tortured -> being forced to feed again -> and round and round again.

BODY IMAGE

This one is more headcanon than theory and ties into my other post about vampire biology, but it's still a point worth mentioning imo. Astarion's life has essentially revolved around sex, however unwilling, for 200 years, and that's become intrinsically linked with his identity - the way he sees himself, the way he interacts with the world. He makes several comments that all but explicitly state that he views himself as a prostitute, and his entire survival strategy in the outside world hinges on his ability to essentially leverage his attractiveness and his bedroom skills to snag himself a smitten protector. Iirc, there's a point in one of the breakup dialogue trees where he'll bitterly refer to sex as his only talent and say that he knows what people think he's good for. He is putting on an act almost constantly, always thinking about how best to portray himself to get the outcome he wants, how to make use of his target's desire for him.

And? This man has, for 200 years, been taught that people like him starving. He knows that the dehydrated-muscle, prominent-collarbone, deathly-pale hungry-eyed vampire look works for him. He's been found consistently desirable even though he doesn't look anything like a healthy, well-fed vampire should, and for someone who's so reliant on being hot, that's going to be hard to let go of. At this point, it may well make him anxious to be so well-fed that his body functions start coming back online, that he can fill out a little to how he looked when Cazador first turned him, that his unshakeable seducer act can be disrupted by things like blushing for flattery. After 200 years of seeing your body starving and thinking that that is how you are at your most attractive, being able to far better imitate a living elf could well be quite distressing for him.

So. At this point, as the game begins, Astarion most likely mostly hates feeding. It makes him feel terrible – degraded, humiliated, disgusted – and has almost no redeeming features. The blood he’s getting doesn’t even taste good, let alone sate his hunger. Feeding him is, essentially, just another torture technique of Cazador's. And yet, he still craves it desperately – debases himself begging for it, feels pathetically grateful for the tiniest scrap he’s given, finds his mouth watering at the sight of vermin. That’s already a horrible, mixed-up place to be emotionally.

And now it's going to get more confusing for him. Enter the player character.

Astarion gets to feed on a thinking creature for the first time, and with it, an array of positive emotions and sensations he's never gotten to experience before, in all the time he’s been a vampire. For example:

SOCIAL SUPPORT

When the PC calls Astarion out for trying to sneakily bite them in their sleep, he explains that he usually feeds on animals, but he's currently too weak and slow to bring any down. This is interesting, because in his Origin, it's a nightmare about Cazador that prompts him to bite a companion. But...I don't think it's a lie. We see multiple times throughout the game that Astarion doesn't cope well with being put on the spot - he gets flustered and kind of starts rambling - but this line comes off without hesitation. It is, if not the truth, still a truth. And the PC doesn't take advantage of that admission - he's vulnerable, but the PC doesn't hurt him or try to make him pay them with sex. Instead they just...feed him.

PHYSICAL STRENGTH & MENTAL CLARITY

He explicitly tells you that he feels strong after drinking from you – and he goes straight out hunting, backing that up – and he has a surprised exclamation that his mind is “finally clear”. He’s been living with hunger-induced brain fog for centuries. He must feel like you’ve given him his brain back.

JOY

He’s sated. He just had a meal that tasted good. He's getting all those positive food feelings for the first time - a massive rush of endorphins to a brain starved of happy chemicals for two hundred years. How many things have made this man happy since he died? It would be overwhelming.

CONNECTION

Held up against how Astarion is used to being treated, this gesture from the PC is an overwhelming show of kindness and generosity. They choose to trust him - even though, as he'll admit in the graveyard, that's an objectively stupid thing to do - and they offer freely something that makes him feel good. Him, a man who's usually forced to degrade himself for "rewards" that make him feel terrible. And as if that's not enough, they accept him for what he is, continue to give him the protection of a group, and they defend him to the others in the morning. He's feeling grateful and giddy and warm for the first time in centuries, and he knows it's all thanks to you.

But

That's going to give him a lot of complicated feelings, because he still has all those negative emotions related to feeding too. And they're not going to go away just because he's found out thinking creature blood is actually nice. They're going to clash against that new enjoyment and make him feel all confused and weird and mixed up. He might still feel shame, even though he enjoyed the meal. He might still find himself wrestling with pointless dread, because he associates feeding with torture and abuse, even though he knows Cazador is miles and miles away. It's a small step towards seeing feeding in a less negative light, but that’s all. And like, up to this point he hasn’t even realised that he might be able to enjoy drinking blood, because to him, Cazador's horrors are normal. That’s all he’s ever known – the only experience of food he’s ever had as a vampire. Feeding Is Horrible And Degrading is a fundamental fact of life that he’s just starting to realise...may not actually be true. That’s like...having a rug yanked out from under his feet. Scary. Distressing. Out of control. Which could make him lean more towards avoiding feeding for a while, to get that control back.

So how do the scales start to tip more towards really enjoying feeding?

I think it would be the introduction of the social aspect. As just this once becomes regular feeding arrangement, he's going to realise that he gets the high of all those positive emotions every time he feeds from the PC, and he's going to start associating that giddy, happy feeling with them specifically. Because we know that while animal blood is Fine He Guesses, and he does get merry on bear blood at one point, it's nothing remotely close to person blood. Woodland creatures still make up a decent chunk of his diet, but he doesn't get the same emotional kick out of them.

And like. He likes feeling good like that. It's addictive. So he'll keep wanting to go back for more – making excuses to spend more time with them, with feeding being a very convenient excuse. He's creating a positive feedback loop for himself of happy chemicals and like, crush feelings, and every time he indulges, he’s unwittingly handing over tiny little fragments of trust and affection in exchange. It's difficult not to start liking someone who makes you feel good, especially if you're so unfamiliar with the feeling. He finds himself that little bit less tense around his willing midnight snack. He laughs more easily around them, finds he's more inclined to indulge do-gooder tendencies, realises he's starting to enjoy spending time with them. He doesn't necessarily realise it, but feeding is no longer just about quenching his blood thirst. It's become a bonding activity. He’s like a semiferal rescue animal, building an emotional connection with you as protector and provider. He’s learning that you’re trustworthy.

And then, as your relationship with him develops and deepens, sex gets involved, and he plays himself.

In one of the dialogues where Astarion offers the PC sex, he explicitly calls it a reward for feeding him, and flirtatiously brings up PC's biting kink - that he can tell they enjoy it when he drinks their blood. This always lowkey makes me laugh because like. Up to this point, Astarion has had no reason to ever connect feeding with sex. Cazador doesn't let him drink from thinking creatures, and since Astarion talks about his prey being "dragged away" to be fed on, it seems like Cazador generally took his meals privately, so mixing the two isn't something Astarion got from watching him. This is something he's picked up from you.

Anyway. I'm not sure which way around they happen, but during his first sex scene, Tav gets the option to encourage him to bite them again, and he will. Obviously, he's not going to turn down "vintage wine", but this also makes strategic sense from the perspective of his plan to get Tav to protect him - he's probably thinking that he's locked them down because they can't scratch this particular itch elsewhere. They now need him. Except - whoops, he actually likes sleeping with them, and he's starting to catch feelings. And because he's come to associate biting Tav with all those good feelings anyway, making it A Sex Thing just shifts his perspective a little, makes him realise that he’s getting something out of these interactions that he gets hooked on.

Feeding has become a source of emotional intimacy. He's beginning to feel loved, cared for, valued. Close to the PC. And that, to someone so utterly love-deprived, is potentially enough to make it feel more positive than negative over time.

(As a side note, I quite like the idea that it'll become a sort of self-soothing strategy for him for a while. If he's stressed or afraid or hurting, he'll nibble on the PC to remind and reassure himself that he can - that he's safe and loved and no longer starving. He'll nip at them to deliberately induce those positive feelings of emotional closeness in himself, if he thinks they'll outweigh the bad ones that come with.)

But even so, those bad associations will probably never fully go away or stop affecting him. He’ll probably still always hear Cazador's belittling laughter if someone walks in on him feeding – look at you, boy, not so proud now, are you? Crawling on the floor for vermin, how utterly pathetic. He’ll probably always wrestle with feelings of stress and anxiety after feeding for no obvious reason, because his primitive lizard brain still treats it like a traumatic experience sometimes even when he's feeding on his living, trusted lover. It’s going to take him such a long time to wrap his head around just how fucked up all the reactions Cazador trained into him are, how different from his new experiences as a free vampire.

Anyway. Idk how well I explained all these thoughts but. Yeah. Astarion + disordered eating issues.