#how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing what I know...

[its-luna-noel]

your obstinate charge | astarion ancunin

Astarion has never been allowed to say 'no' before. When he does, he realizes who he wants to say 'yes' to. You realize that he could kill you here, right now, in any number of ways. He could slit your throat, drive a dagger beneath your ribs & pierce your heart, bleed you dry until you're nothing but a memory upon this land. You realize this, and yet your body relaxes in his hands. You trust him completely.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, afab reader but any pronouns, durge reader, act 2 spoilers, previous abuse, smut, oral (f! & m! receiving), blood drinking

word count: 5.3k

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hello! i wrote this last year and posted on ao3, and i wasn't going to cross post since my blog is mostly jjk, but i reread it and was really proud of it, so here it is on tumblr! ty for reading & hope you enjoy!

Everyone at camp can see that Astarion is in a foul mood.

You arrived back at Last Light after your first journey to Moonrise Towers, finally having arrived at your end goal to destroy these tadpoles, and before you could all share your discoveries with the rest of the party, Astarion strode off towards the waterline, ducking into darkness before you could grab him.

You stare after him for a moment and shake your head. Then you turn towards the fire, folding your legs under you as you ready yourself for dinner.

Gale passes you a wooden bowl of the same stew you'd been eating since arriving in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. "How did it go?" he asks.

You shake your head again, shoving food in your mouth, and lift your shoulder in a shrug. "We found Ketheric," you explain, offering the memory of your meeting to Gale through your tadpoles. He grimaces as you share the images of Ketheric pulling the axe from his chest. You withdraw your mind from his and continue to eat. "We've convinced them that we're True Souls, for now. We'll see where it takes us."

Gale begins to speak over his own meal, airing his many ideas to the party as the others gathered around the fire. But your thoughts drift, and you aren’t even lucid enough to feel guilty for ignoring him; all you can think of was how you know Ketheric was somehow involved in your previous life, that life you can't remember. Determination begins to burn deep in your chest; you must find out what this all means.

Before you can try to sort out your disordered thoughts, Karlach plops down beside you, the heat of her warming you on all sides as she digs into her stew.

"Hey," she says through a mouth full of food, "what's wrong with Fangs?"

You shrug, pulling apart your warm roll of bread. "How am I supposed to know?"

"'Cause you're all cozy with him, or whatever." She looks at you, her bright eyes keen and knowing. "Whatever happened today, you know what must be bothering him. Maybe you should go check on him."

You almost laugh. "He doesn't want to see me," you tell her.

She gives you a stern look before returning to her meal. "Just think about it, soldier," is all she says.

You all finish your meal and talk about your plan for the next day before retiring to your own tents for the night. You change out of your armor and clean it, rubbing off stubborn stains of goblin blood. You try to lose yourself to sleep, but it does not take you, with your many worries for the next day. And, even though you don't want to, you can't help but think about what Karlach said.

"Maybe you should go check on him."

So, unable to sleep, and unable to think of anything else to do, you leave your tent and make your way towards Astarion's.

You walk over, the chill of the night making you shiver. You almost hope to find the tent closed up for the night, to find him already trancing for the night, but the entrance is still tied open. You peek inside, expecting to find your companion reclined and reading a book by candle light; you try to prepare yourself for whatever sly flirtation he has for you.

Instead, you find the tent empty.

You frown; you know that Astarion hasn't been able to find suitable prey since you'd arrived in the cursed lands, so you can't imagine that he's out prowling. You stand there for a moment, at a loss and trying to decide whether or not to just go to bed. But you sigh, as whatever blackened heart inside you pushes you forward.

You, thanking your lucky stars that he wasn't trying to hide when he skulked away, follow Astarion's tracks down towards the river.

—

You find him propped up on his elbows across the river, staring out across the water. You don't bother to try and hide your footsteps; you simply cross the river, taking care not to lose your footing on the loose stones along the way.

"Come to collect your obstinate charge?" Astarion sneers without looking at you as you approach.

You sit beside him, tucking your knees against your chest. You try to keep your dirty shoes off his cloak that he spread out on the ground beneath him.

Those words are familiar enough; that dreadful Drow called him that to your face when she asked for him to bite her. "She really got to you, huh?" you ask, resting your cheek on one knee as you turn to look at him.

He's still in his armor from the day, and he'd found a bottle of wine somewhere in the crates surrounding Last Light on his journey over. It's something cheap, something you're sure he finds repulsive, even as he drinks. He stares across the river towards the inn, and he's silent for so long you resign yourself to the fact that he's ignoring you. Then, as you're deciding if you should just leave him to his thoughts, he shakes his head and says, "I can't get it out of my head. The way she leered at me."

You watch him, waiting for him to speak. He swirls the bottle of wine and takes a drink, then grimaces at the taste and lets the bottle hang loosely from his fingers. He doesn't look at you as he thinks.

Eventually, he sighs, the sound light and airy. "I was being too precious, wasn't I?" You can tell he's trying to convince himself, to talk himself back into some dark line of thinking he'd grown accustomed since being turned. "We could have used her potion. A moment of unpleasantry doesn't matter if there's a fine reward. I should have just gritted my teeth as always and let her have me for a bit."

You feel your heart sink at his words. "Astarion," you whisper, unsure of what to say next.

He barks out a laugh, a short, derisive sound. "Oh, darling, I don't need your pity." He throws the bottle of wine towards the water, and the glass shatters against the river bank. Wine starts to spill into the river, spreading like blood.

You shake your head, confused by how quickly his mood shifts. You struggle to keep up. "Astarion, I don't pity you," you tell him. You turn to face him properly, to take this conversation seriously. He still doesn't look at you. "But you have the right to say 'no.' You don't belong to anyone anymore."

At those words, he shifts his gaze from the waterline to finally examine you. His eyes are narrow, the expression behind them inscrutable. "You really believe that, don't you?" He laughs again, but he's not amused. His voice is bitter as he continues, "Yes, well, I must admit, a part of me feels sick when I think about getting on my back for breadcrumbs again." He tilts his head, suddenly curious. "But you, you could have convinced me to take the deal. To just push through and get the potion, and we would've all just moved along with our lives. Why didn't you?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Your voice is slightly incredulous. "You said 'no,' and that's your right. I'm not here to force you to do anything." You, now, laugh without mirth. You know enough about not having a say in what you do, with your strange visitors haunting your every move.

Astarion is still watching you. He has to admit to himself, he doesn't understand you one bit. No one in this life or his last ever showed him any ounce of kindness; even the gods couldn't be bothered to look his way. But here you are, some insignificant wanderer with gore for brains and a strong propensity towards gruesome violence, sitting beside him and telling him he had a choice. "But you could've," he pushes, and he suddenly reaches forward, dragging aside your neckline to reveal bruised teeth marks from where he'd last fed. You stiffen slightly, caught off guard by his quick movements. "What have I done to deserve any of your grace? I deceived you, tried to hunt you in the night, have taken everything I could from you with no promises to give any of it back."

"Astarion," you whisper, and for the first time, you think you are finally seeing him. "What makes you think you have to earn it?"

And that, finally, is what breaks him.

He rises up on his knees and takes your face in his hands, and there's a frenzy there, a desperation that makes you tense. You think he might shake you so hard your ruined brain will rattle around in your skull, and you watch the thought form behind his eyes. You realize that he could kill you here, right now, in any number of ways. He could slit your throat, drive a dagger beneath your ribs & pierce your heart, bleed you dry until you're nothing but a memory upon this land.

You realize this, and yet your body relaxes in his hands.

You trust him completely.

The look in his eyes is suddenly wild, confused, exasperated. Of all the prey he's ever hunted before, why did you have to be the one he showed the monster to? Anyone else would've run; you should've, too. Yet here you sit, on this riverbank beside him, looking into his blood-red eyes because he's led you right where he wanted you. Surely you aren't too stupid to see that.

Yet here you are, staring at him with those big, trusting eyes as he holds your life in his hands.

There must be something wrong with you, he decides then. Beyond the parasite in your head, and beyond the spells of very bloody memory loss; there is something fundamentally, elementally, seriously wrong with you. It's the only way he can explain to himself why you're still sitting here, prey in its predator's sight, unwavering & unafraid.

At that look in your eyes, that brave, corruptible expression, he leans closer. He says your name, and it's like the last prayer he'll ever speak. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, and he's almost begging.

You lean in, too, until the tip of your nose brushes the slope of his, and you breathe, "You."

And then he's kissing you, and you let out a small gasp, because you can't believe this beautiful elf has chosen you. He breathes you in, his hands still cupping your cheeks, and you thread your fingers into his silvery curls, beckoning him closer. One of his hands traces down your side, wrapping around your waist and holding you closer so you can feel the lines of him through your camp clothes. You gasp again, surprised by his unyielding grip, and his tongue slips between your parted lips, searching, exploring, tasting. You groan quietly, low in your throat, and his other hand traces from your cheek to your neck, fingers searching for the source of the sound. They find it, and they squeeze…

With his hand on your throat, feeling your pulse through the delicate skin, Astarion is nearly hypnotized.

He wishes that hunger deep in his belly would fade, would disappear and leave him to enjoy this, to lose himself in the moment like he hasn't in two hundred years. But it burns hot, and he can hear your heart beating strong in your chest, quickening as he moves against you, presses into you. It gnaws at him, spurned and getting harder to ignore, and you feel him bracing, beginning to pull away because he shouldn't do this to you— he can't—

You pull back from him, and he wonders how you could have possibly known his thoughts and braces for the impact of a stake in his heart—

Instead you tilt your chin and arch your back, and your hands in his hair lead him right to where he needs to be. His mouth brushes the pulse at your throat.

His vision flashes red; he can feel your blood thrumming against his lips, feel the seductive brush of each pulse against his mouth. He groans, and he wants to fight it, because gods he wishes things were different, but his lips part and his jaw opens, and he's biting into your throat.

A breath hisses from between your teeth at the sensation, at the ice traveling down your spine and chilling you to the bone. His mouth on you is unyielding as he cradles you in his hands, drinking you in in every way possible. Your eyes fall closed, and you begin to float, your thoughts becoming lighter than the clouds. You smile, because you can still feel him grasping at you, wanting you, needing you.

You trust him completely.

That hunger inside him pushes him to drink you dry, to tear your life from your hands until it burns in his chest instead. But he pries himself away from your throat, mouth dripping with scarlet and breath stuttering from between his lips. You can feel his chest heaving against you, can feel air fanning against your neck. You're still smiling.

"You," he gasps, easing you back down against the ground beneath you as he licks his teeth clean, "you ruin me." And then he kisses that smile on your mouth, and he's hovering over you, holding himself above you. It feels like a question.

When he pulls away, you open your eyes to see the stars painted over his shoulders. He looks predatory, like he's standing over the tattered remains of his latest hunt, but you see the softness in his expression, the vulnerability. He doesn't want to hurt you; he doesn't want this to be like all the other times, and he surely doesn't want this to be the first of its own terrible kind. He wants you, you realize. Not your blood, not your power, not your protection or your loyalty or your allegiance; he wants you.

You're ready to let him have you, if he'll take you.

"Astarion." You whisper his name, and he leans closer, his curls brushing your cheek. It tickles, and you giggle under your breath.

He tries not to stiffen at the sound. He forgets how soft you are sometimes, how gentle. It creates an air of innocence, though he watched you tear through goblins and cursed undead only hours before, and he knows without a doubt you can handle yourself. For a moment, he feels like the monster under the bed again.

But you touch his face, so very gently, and kiss him. Softly, sweetly, you call him back to you.

"I'm yours," you breathe, "if you'll have me."

And oh, it’s not even a question.

He’ll have you, he decides, pressing you back against the ground until rocks dig into your shoulders. He’ll take whatever you will give him, and when you’ve had enough, he will probably still be on his knees before you, begging for more.

Before that thought can scare him away, he trails his touch over your thin, casual clothes, grasping at the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up. He pulls back to look at you, to admire you, but you — suddenly cold and bashful — wrap your arms over your chest.

You hide from him, and he’s suddenly confused.

He examines the nervous look in your eyes, the way you're flushed in embarrassment and trying to hide beneath him, and all the little puzzle pieces suddenly click into place. This is new to you, he realizes. Maybe not truly and entirely; maybe you were taken to bed in whatever life you had before, but you don't remember that now. For you, with your absent memories and shattered persona, this was your first time.

It's suddenly all too much for him, and he shrinks away from you, leaning back into his heels. He holds his face in his hands, and he shakes his head ever so slightly, because it's too familiar a sight, to pin down bright innocence beneath his hips and drag it into the darkness. He wants to run away, to curse you for ever asking him to come to your camp and join your little band of misfits.

For a moment, he wishes he never met you; at least he wouldn't have to question every action he takes.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he recedes from you, and very slowly and gently take one of his hands in yours. He's shaking, just barely, but your throat seems to close with a flood of emotion.

"Astarion," you whisper, and you gently pry his hand away from his face. His eyes are shut tightly, his lips twisted in a grimace. You bring his hand towards your lips, and you leave a kiss on his palm, feather light. "Astarion," you say again, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Of course, you have to be the first person to say those words. The first person to encourage him to say no, when all he wants — for the first time in two hundred years — is to say yes.

For a moment, he’s bitter, and you can see the flash of frustration in his eyes when he finally opens them. But it’s gone in a moment, and he grins, flashing his teeth as he leans back in. “My dear,” he says, his silver tongue and honeyed words his only protection against the overwhelming confusion that’s threatening to settle over him, “I want this, trust me.”

He moves to catch your mouth with his, but you put your hand on his chest and stop him before he can. Your brows are creased, pulled together in concern.

The message is clear; you won’t let him use you to destroy himself.

His eyes flutter closed once more, and he breathes deeply, reminding himself where he is, who he is with. When he opens his eyes, they are gentle, softer than you’ve ever seen. You think, for a moment, maybe he has grown to trust you, too.

Slowly, without that same underlying malice, he leans in, close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. “I want this,” he repeats, his voice so quiet you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it. But then his mouth is on yours again, and he returns to his work removing your clothes.

His movements are slow, now, methodical. Like he’s trying to shake off decades of ghosts as he slides your pants down your thighs; maybe he is, you think. The fabric reaches your ankles, and you help him wriggle you free, and he tosses the clothing aside. Your underwear soon follow. Then, for one long, languorous moment, he looks at you, naked under the moonlight. Your mouth is red and sinful from kissing him, and the chilly breeze of the ever-present darkness raises goosebumps along your skin. Your nipples grow hard and pink, and you shiver. His gaze continues lower, to where you nervously squeeze your legs together in one last attempt at preserving your decency.

He wants to ruin you.

He brushes your thighs apart with one commanding swipe of his hand, and you shiver at the look in his eyes. Pupils blown wide with desire, he stares up at you through his lashes as he dips down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the valley between your breasts. He settles his body between your legs, and he veers to one side and licks a line towards one nipple, catching it between his lips. The wind cools his saliva until you’re shivering, and you’re not sure if it’s the cold or the pleasure as your head tilts back, your body arching against the ground.

Astarion suddenly sucks, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he pulls at your nipple. You gasp, and he relishes in the sound, watching you bare your throat to him. He gazes up at you, admiring the sight, as his hand slips between your thighs.

Suddenly, you gasp when fingertips stroke against your core, revealing your glistening slick. Astarion groans, the mound of your breast still in his mouth. “All this talk,” he teases, reaching up and grabbing your jaw in one hand. With the other, he rocks his touch back just slightly, barely brushing against your clit. “You should be the one telling me how much you want it, desperate little thing.”

Your face burns at his words and his casual tone, but you can’t even argue with him before he sweeps his tongue into your mouth. He licks your teeth, and at the same time he presses two fingers inside you, and you let out a broken moan against his lips. You can feel his wolfish smile as he pulls back before pumping back inside you.

You can feel how wet you are, can feel it dripping down the inside of your thighs. He moves slowly, though, allowing the gentle stretch of his fingers as he kisses you. His thumb draws lazy little circles over your clit, and he catches each of your moans with his mouth, learning exactly what you like with a few strokes of his expert hands.

Then, just as your breathing starts to hitch and break, he pulls away, taking his hand from the wet heat between your legs.

The sound you make almost comes out as a whine, and Astarion laughs, watching you flush deep crimson. “Someone needs to mind their manners,” he chastises playfully, and then he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

Your flush impossibly deepens, and you almost look away in embarrassment. But you can’t tear your eyes from the shameful scene, and you can tell that he knows how much it turns you on to see him like this. He grins again, and then he dips his head, disappearing between your thighs.

Before you can process his quick movements, you feel him lick molten heat up your core, and you throw your arms out to the sides, scrambling for purchase. You gasp his name, and you feel him chuckle more than you hear it.

”Yes, my dear?” he asks before running the flat of his tongue against your clit.

Your body stiffens, and your face lifts to the heavens. “Don’t stop,” is all you can muster.

And he doesn’t.

He eats you out until you’re shaking, falling apart under him. He presses his fingers back into you, three this time, and sucks on your clit while he strokes you from the inside. He stares up at you while he does it, watching you writhe in breathless, beautiful agony. One of your hands finds his hair, brushing through his curls with a touch that’s much too gentle for what you’re suffering at his hand.

You can feel your pleasure mounting, tightening like a coil deep in your belly while heat flames between your legs. Your moans are coming out in pants, now, barely intelligible noises that break against the riverbed. Your hand in his hair tightens, gripping for dear life and holding him there and pushing him away all in the same movement, and your back bows off the ground, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head as he pushes you higher and higher—

Then, like a band snapping, your orgasm rocks through you, and your vision goes black while your hips stutter and your core clenches and quivers.

Bliss washes over you, and you slowly come back to earth, and you find Astarion unbuckling his armor, nearly frantic in his movements.

”Astarion,” you croak, reaching for him.

He leans over you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. His hands tug feverishly at the buckles.

”Astarion,” you sound like you’re begging. “Astarion, please—“

He huffs playfully, still pushing off his leather armor one layer at a time. “What is it?” he asks, sparing one hand to stroke gently at your throat. “Do you need some attention? Aren’t you just obsessed—?”

”No,” you whine, finally rising up on your knees and reaching for his hands. “Let me— I want you to feel good.”

By now, his chest is bare, and he’s kicked off his boots. “Sweet thing, the thought of being inside you is driving me insane.” His leather pants slide down his thighs. “Do you want—?”

”Astarion,” you say again, your voice emphatic. You take his hand and bring it to your mouth, parting your lips against his fingers. “Please.”

Astarion freezes suddenly, staring at you with an expression of recognition. His eyes trail from yours down to your mouth, where his fingers sit. He can feel the heat of your breath, and he grows impossibly harder at the thought of what you’re asking.

It’s something he’s so rarely done since being turned. A pleasure he’s so rarely accepted.

Your lips brush his fingertips when you speak. “I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, and then you take two of his fingers in your mouth.

His stomach drops as he watches you, and his cock twitches at the sinful sight of your lips wrapped around his long pale fingers. You watch his pupils dilate, and his lips part slightly as you slide your tongue down, swirling gently. Your own desire pools in your belly, watching him watch you.

Please.

He nods, his breath starting to hitch slightly at the idea of filling that mouth. You smile, and you draw back until his fingers leave your mouth with a pop. Then you ease him back gently onto his elbows, picking up where he left off by dipping your fingers into the band of his underwear. You look up through your eyelashes, watching his chest heave up and down.

”Tell me to stop,” you say sternly, and he nods, understanding your meaning. So, having his confirmation, you continue.

You slide his last layer of clothing slowly down his strong thighs, watching every reaction your movements elicit. Watching for any sign of trepidation, of apprehension. But you only see desire, and one of his hands goes to your hair, knotting in your tresses. Encouraging you further.

You move your hands lower and lower, and your mouth begins to water as you follow the shaft of his cock. He’s gorgeous in every way, and when you finally reveal the pink head, glistening with precum, you have to hold yourself back from devouring him.

You tug his underwear the rest of the way off, and then you kneel in front of him, sure that whatever gods may be listening have placed him here in front of you.

You dip your head forward, wanting only to touch him with your mouth. With his hold on your hair, hopefully that would give him enough power to say no if it became too much. Tentatively, and watching for his reaction, your tongue slips out from between your lips and licks a gentle line along his shaft, giving you your first taste of him.

Astarion’s entire body stiffens at the sensation, and you do not move again, waiting for some sign that this was okay. After a moment, he tugs at your hair and very gently touches your cheek, and the look in his eyes is clear direction for you to continue.

You brush your lips against him, leaving gentle kisses, and then your tongue follows to the head of his dick, tasting his precum before swirling and bobbing deeper.

Astarion throws his head back, and he keens as you take him into your mouth. It’s a broken sound, but his hand in your hair pushes you deeper, and you obey. You drool when his hips cant forward, and you match his movements by swirling your tongue and pulling back before sliding all the way back down. He almost can’t believe the skill of your mouth, with how innocent you looked not five minutes ago, but then his thoughts scatter again when he hits the back of your throat.

He wants to press you down until you’re choking on him, wants to cum in your mouth and make a mess of you—

But he stops himself, pulls you back by your hair and kisses you, because he needs to fuck you.

He’s panting when he grabs you by the throat and lowers you onto your back. “Say it again,” he tells you, half delirious with the need to be inside you. “Say you’re mine.”

”I’m yours,” you respond immediately, eyes shining in the moonlight.

He groans your name, cupping his hands under your thighs. He wraps your legs around his waist, lining himself up at your entrance. Your cunt is still dripping for him, and he presses his fingers against your clit, watching you jump as he touches the swollen bundle of nerves. He laughs, a breathless sound, and then he places one hand beside your head, staring into your eyes as he slides inside you.

Thank you, he wants to say. Thank you for saving me.

But that’s much too vulnerable a thought to share, so he simply rocks his hips into yours, watching your mouth fall open in pleasure.

He’s perfect, you think as he slides back out of you before slamming back in, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. He’s perfect and he’s here and he’s yours, and you want to tell him so, but you can’t even speak, so you squeak out moans and scrabble at his chest as he fucks you.

He watches you quickly come undone beneath him, and when he decides he needs more, he lifts one of your legs and props it over his shoulder. The new angle lets him hit a target inside you that has you seeing stars, and you’re a drooling mess beneath him, eyes glazed over with pleasure. His fingers once again find your clit, and he rubs those practiced circles, just like before. He watches your chest heave, and your lips try to form his name, but he’s knocking the wind out of you with every thrust. You feel him inside you, on top of you, all around you, and you know that this is dangerous, that this is the sort of magic that will keep you coming to his tent every night.

And oh, how you both want to tear each other apart each night.

You feel your second orgasm building, so much faster than the first, and you gaze up into his eyes, watching him fuck you, and it quickly becomes too much.

“Astarion,” you finally gasp, your voice pitched so high it almost breaks, “pleasepleasepleaseplease—“

The sound of your voice threatens to send him over the edge, and his thrusts begin to turn wild, frantic. He shoves himself into you until you come apart, unraveling at the seams. Your cunt clenches over and over again, pulling him closer from the inside, and before he can pull out to empty himself on your stomach, you grab his shoulder and tilt your hips forward, begging him to stay there.

Begging him to cum inside you.

The thought shatters him, and he moans into the crook of your shoulder, thrusting erratically as he rides out his own orgasm. You feel his cock twitching inside you, and you hold him close as his thrusts slow, then stop.

As you hold him, you press gentle kisses to his face. His forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. His lips. He kisses you back, slowly, deeply. Then he pulls himself out of you, and you almost regret the sudden emptiness. But you can’t think about it for too long before he lowers himself to the ground beside you, and you follow him, still kissing every inch of him that you can reach.

”I’m yours,” you remind him. And even as you both start to clean up and head back to camp, he remembers those words.

He belonged to no one, but maybe one day, he wouldn’t mind belonging to you.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3

[honeybummer]

NO SAINTS HERE - on A03 Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Fem!OC/Tav

Summary/Setting: Tav cheats on Wyll with Astarion when Wyll cannot satisfy her needs

Word count - 6k

Rating: EXPLICIT

The camp was silent, the night air crisp.

Tav stormed out of her tent, her footsteps heavy against the cool earth. She wrapped her arms around herself, pacing before glaring up at the stars, as if they were somehow to blame. 

Frustration boiled in her chest. Six weeks on the road with the group. Four of them with Wyll. Four weeks, and he—

“You’ll have a trench dug by sunrise at this rate,” came a familiar, silken voice.

Tav jumped, spinning to see Astarion lounging by the fire, a book in his lap, eyes glinting in the flickering light. His silver hair curled effortlessly behind his ears.

“I didn’t think anyone else was awake,” she said, trying to steady her breath.

“And yet, here I am. Vampires aren’t much for sleep, darling.” He studied her. “Now, what’s got our fearless leader storming about like a bull?”

She shook her head and resumed pacing. “It’s nothing. Go back to your scheming.”

“Darling, my scheming can wait. You look about ready to burst into flames.” He snapped his book shut, leaning in with a smirk. “Go on, then. Misery does adore an audience.”

Tav huffed and started toward the forest, hoping the cool air might clear her head. Maybe a walk, or a dip in the lake—

“Let me guess,” Astarion drawled from behind her, lazily amused. “Our ever-gallant warlock has done something to ruffle your feathers. Am I close?”

“Just forget it,” she muttered, picking up her pace.

Then he was in front of her, hands clasped neatly behind his back, eyes glinting. “You’re practically humming with frustration. Unmet needs, perhaps?”

Her cheeks burned. “I’m not—this isn’t—” 

How could he know?

Astarion circled her. “You’re practically radiating unfulfilled desires.”

Tav turned away, embarrassed. “Astarion, please.” She didn’t want to discuss this with him—or anyone.

“Please?” He smirked, leaning in closer. “Please stop? Or please keep going?”

Tav nearly clamped her hands over his mouth. “Keep your voice down!”

Then, just as smoothly, his grin softened, voice dipping into something almost kind. “Oh, don’t pout. I’m only teasing. If you need a willing ear, I’m right here.”

Tav sighed, the fight seeping out of her. She retreated and sank onto a log near the fire, accepting the bottle of wine he offered. The first swig was long, the burn grounding her.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, wiping her mouth. “Just me being selfish.”

Astarion settled beside her with a lazy elegance. “You? Selfish? Hardly. Though, I suppose spending too much time with him might have that effect.”

She shot him a glare, unamused. Astarion didn’t like Wyll, but he didn’t like anyone , really—maybe her, on rare occasions.

“He just…ugh, I can’t talk to you about this.”

Astarion lifted the wine to her lips again, and she took another sip. And another.

“How often does he leave you wanting?” he asked, voice soft, almost conspiratorial.

“How did you know?”

His smile was sharp, predatory. “You keep fidgeting. If he’d made you come once or twice like a normal partner, you wouldn’t be this tense.”

He took the wine back and Tav groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

Astarion arched a brow. “Does he leave you wanting often?”

Tav swallowed, the guilt curling in her stomach. 

She exhaled sharply. “He…he fell asleep.”

Astarion’s laughter was rich and delighted.

Tav snatched the wine back, taking a long swig. “You better not tell anyone.”

“Oh, please.” He waved a dismissive hand, still grinning. “This is too delicious to share. But really—our gallant Wyll, falling asleep midway? Tragic.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s wonderful in so many ways, but when it comes to intimacy…he just doesn’t get it.”

The warmth of Wyll’s kindness was something she couldn’t ignore. When he’d asked her to dance after a night of drinking, she’d accepted. And when he’d asked for a kiss, she’d given it. But when things went too far, she hesitated. Yet, when he looked so sad at the rejection, she relented. 

The next night, he’d asked her on a proper date, and she hadn’t the heart to refuse. Not when the nights were so lonely.

The first time he touched her, it had felt nice—at first. It had been so long since she had felt anyone’s hands on her that even the smallest touch had sent sparks through her veins. But then his rhythm faltered, his thrusts erratic. Her body had cooled, and she had lost the tempo.

And then he had finished—and fallen asleep.

He hadn’t even asked if she had come.

The next time he tried, he had pressed his fingers against her, clumsy and hopeful. It hadn’t worked. It never worked.

And she never faked it, either.

But what boiled her blood was the fact that Wyll knew . He knew she hadn’t finished, and still, he had simply gone to sleep . Like it didn’t matter.

She would never do that to him. Never take her own pleasure and leave him wanting.

Astarion’s voice cut through her thoughts. “How unfortunate.”

Tav snorted and drank more wine.

“Perhaps…I could be of some assistance?”

Tav looked at him, stunned. “What?”

Astarion leaned in, eyes glinting with intent.She was reminded how earth-shatteringly gorgeous he was. “You need release. I need something to occupy my time. And I do have an impressive repertoire…”

Her breath caught.

Astarion grinned—lazy, confident. “Unless you’d rather trudge back to your tent and spend another night wanting?”

Tav looked away. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” He took a long look at her, up and down. “Such a shame to let you go to waste.”

She shook her head. “I…I’m with Wyll.”

Astarion only watched her.

“I could never do that to him. He’s too…good.”

He shrugged, utterly unconcerned. “Yes, yes, the noble Blade of Frontiers—so devoted, so honorable. But tell me, darling, how devoted can he be if he leaves you wanting?”

Tav inhaled sharply, gripping the wine bottle too tightly. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, but it is.” He shifted closer, his thigh brushing hers, voice dipping, silk and sin. “Why should you suffer for his shortcomings?” His lips curled, firelight casting sharp shadows over his face, making him look almost… dangerous. “You deserve better.”

She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to react. But Astarion saw it all—the flicker of hesitation, the breath she swallowed down.

“Tell me, darling,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Have you ever been worshiped?”

Her breath hitched. She turned away, but his voice curled around her like smoke, thick and intoxicating.

“I mean properly worshiped.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “The kind that leaves you trembling, moaning my name.”

Tav squeezed her thighs together.

Astarion hummed, catching the movement, his grin sharpening. “No? Tsk—what a tragedy.” His fingers ghosted over her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. “I could teach you, you know. Show you what it’s like to be devoured.”

She swallowed hard. “Oh, please.” Her voice was shaky. “You don’t even like me.”

Astarion laughed, soft and indulgent. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You really think that matters?”

He leaned in, just enough for his lips to ghost over her jaw, not quite touching, but so close. “Liking you isn’t the point,” he whispered. “ Wanting you is.”

His fingers brushed her collarbone, barely there, his touch sending a shiver through her. “And gods , do I want you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “So tell me, darling,” he drawled, smirking as he tipped her chin up with a finger. “Would you really rather go back to your tent, aching and unsatisfied, all because of some foolish notion that I need to like you first?”

Tav knew parts of his backstory, how he was trained in the art of desire. How he could get anyone into his bed. She shouldn’t fall for it.

“Imagine it, love. My hands on your body, my lips on your skin—making you feel everything you’ve been denied.” His eyes darkened. “Wouldn’t that be… delicious?”

But.

Heat pooled low in her stomach.

“I—” She exhaled shakily, grasping for something solid, something real. “I shouldn’t—”

“Oh, darling.” His fingers curled under her chin, tilting her face to his. “Why shouldn’t you?”

She met his gaze and drowned in it. Red eyes, deep and endless, full of promises she shouldn’t want.

“Tell me,” he whispered, lips just shy of hers. “Do you want me to stop?”

Tav’s heart thundered.

She should say yes.

She should.

The fire crackled, but it wasn’t what made her burn. It was him—his scent, his nearness, the coolness of his skin against her heat.

“I could make it easy for you,” he murmured. His lips nearly brushed hers, teasing, coaxing. “I wouldn’t make you do a damn thing, darling.”

Tav’s fingers twitched. Her breath shook.

“All you would have to do…” he breathed. “Is spread those pretty, little legs for me…”

She shuddered violently..

“Just like back…and let me…”

Tav bit her lip.

“ Have you.”

And then—

She cracked.

With a frustrated noise, she grabbed his collar and crushed her lips to his.

Astarion groaned low in his throat, as if he had been starving for this. His hands were on her in an instant—one threading into her hair, the other gripping her waist and yanking her against him.

Gods. He devoured her.

His lips were soft, insistent, his mouth moving against hers with a desperate sort of hunger. His fangs scraped her lower lip, sending a bolt of heat down her spine, and she whimpered—actually whimpered.

Astarion growled.

In a swift motion, he had her beneath him, the firelight flickering across his pale skin as he loomed over her. “Now, that’s more like it,” he murmured, his breath ragged, lips already red and swollen from kissing her.

Tav barely had time to process before his mouth was on hers again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against hers, his hands everywhere —her waist, her back, her thighs.

And gods help her, she was burning.

His cool fingers trailed under the hem of her shirt, barely touching her skin, and yet it sent a full-body shiver through her.

“Cold, darling?” he murmured against her lips, but his grin was wicked, knowing. “Or is it something else?”

She shivered again, and his fingers dug into her waist, his hips pressing against hers just enough to make her feel—

A gasp tore from her throat, and he chuckled, the sound dark and delighted. “Oh, my sweet thing,” he purred, his lips ghosting down her jaw. “I can’t wait to feel your heat.”

Tav squeezed her eyes shut, trying—failing—to remember why this was a bad idea.

But with Astarion’s mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, his hands exploring her like she was something to be devoured—

She found she didn’t care at all.

Except. 

There was a rustling nearby. 

Tav scrambled out from under Astarion and got up. She stood there, panting, while her worst fears came true. 

The flap of Wyll’s tent rustled and he came into view. He looked around and then spotted them on the far side of camp, by the fire.

“Tav?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and walking closer.

She wiped at her swollen lips, trying to look composed. Astarion, on the other hand, remained utterly unruffled, lounging back on his elbows with an infuriating smirk.

“Tav?” Wyll repeated, stepping forward, brow furrowed. “What are you doing up? I heard something.”

She swallowed hard, panic twisting in her gut. But then—relief. His expression wasn’t one of suspicion, just sleepy confusion. He didn’t see. He didn’t hear.

Before she could string together a response, Astarion beat her to it.

“I woke her.” His voice was smooth, nonchalant, as if nothing had just happened. He shifted up, stretching lazily before giving Wyll an almost bored look. “I needed to feed.”

Wyll’s brow furrowed deeper, his gaze flickering between them.

“She offered, of course,” Astarion continued smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. “And I’d hate to refuse such a generous donation.” He grinned, showing just the hint of fangs. “We were just about to get started.”

Tav nearly choked.

Wyll’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She needs her sleep. It’s late and I—”

“Oh, no need for that,” Astarion cut in, voice silken with amusement. “Tav was very eager to help.” He leaned closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. Casual, but his fingers pressed just enough for her to feel him. “And you know how these things go. Could take a while.”

Tav clenched her jaw, trying not to react.

Wyll sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Just… be careful, alright?” He looked at Tav, something soft in his expression. “Don’t let him take too much.”

Astarion placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “What do you take me for? A savage?”

Wyll didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, then. I’ll probably be asleep, so just wake me when you get back.”

Tav forced a nod as Wyll turned and disappeared back into his tent.

The moment he was gone, she whipped toward Astarion.

“What the hell was that?” she hissed.

Astarion grinned, utterly unrepentant. “That, my dear, was me getting us out of trouble.”

Her pulse pounded. “By implying we were busy?”

He gave an elegant shrug. “Well, weren’t we?”

Tav opened her mouth to argue—only to close it again when she realized she didn’t have a damn thing to say to that.

Astarion leaned in, voice dropping to something dark and wicked. “Now then. We should put on a little show, don’t you think?” His fingers ghosted over the pulse in her neck.

“This is what you offered, after all.”

“Fine,” she muttered, rolling her neck for him. 

But he didn’t lean in. 

“I say I bought us some time. Come on.” He grabbed her arm and led her deeper into the forest, away from camp. 

“Where are we going?”

Astarion said nothing as he pulled her through the trees. The deeper they went, the thicker the shadows grew, moonlight slicing in jagged slivers through the canopy.

They passed the nearby waterfall, the sound making her uncomfortable. She couldn’t hear if someone or something approached.

Tav’s heart pounded—not from fear, not from the dark, but from him.

“Astarion,” she tried again, breathless. “Where—”

But before she could finish, he spun her, pressing her back against the rough bark of an ancient oak. He leaned in, his hands braced on either side of her head.

“I thought you wanted to be fed on?” he teased, his voice a silken purr..

“I…” she started, but Astarion was already moving, brushing his nose along the curve of her jaw, lips hovering over her pulse.

He dragged his lips down the column of her throat, slow, indulgent.

“I could take my time with you,” he mused, voice barely above a whisper. “Taste you properly. Make you feel it.”

Tav’s breath hitched, her hands curling into fists against the bark.

He chuckled. “Oh, my sweet girl.” His tongue flicked out, just the faintest brush against her pulse, and her knees buckled.

Astarion caught her, hands sliding down to grip her waist.

“Careful now,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t want you collapsing before we even start.”

And then—he kissed her.

Not teasing. Not playful.

Hungry.

Tav gasped against his lips as he pulled her flush against him, the sharp edges of his body a contrast to the softness of his mouth. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

Heat flooded her, spiraling down her spine, pooling in her stomach. She shouldn’t be doing this—she really shouldn’t—but gods, she wanted him.

Astarion nipped at her lower lip, then soothed it with his tongue. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered. “And I will.”

Tav dug her fingers into his shoulders, her breath coming fast.

She didn’t say a word.

His mouth trailed down her neck and brushed against her collarbones. His quick fingers began loosening the ties to her pants and she let him. 

Astarion hummed in approval as her body melted against him, his fingers making quick work of the ties at her waist. “That’s it, darling,” he murmured against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”

His hands slid beneath the waistband of her pants, the coolness of his touch making her gasp, her skin prickling with heat as he grazed the edge of her undergarments.

“Now, tell me: Am I allowed to touch you?”

Tav could hardly speak, but she managed a breathy, “Yes.”

Her head tipped back against the rough bark as his hands slipped beneath the fabric, skimming over bare skin. She sucked in a breath.

He chuckled, low and wicked. “So responsive. I do love that about you.”

His fingers dipped lower, and Tav gasped, her hips jerking into his touch. He grinned against her throat, his free hand sliding up her ribs.

“You poor thing,” he murmured, lips tracing the shell of her ear. “He never even tried to take care of you, did he?”

His thumb swept over that bundle of sensitive nerves and she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing quick. 

Astarion’s other hand slid under her shirt and palmed her breast. 

Tav squeezed her eyes shut tighter, heat flooding her face. She shouldn’t be doing this. She should stop. But then Astarion’s fingers pressed just right, and all thoughts of Wyll, of guilt, of anything beyond him dissolved.

Wetness flooded past his fingers as he continued to rub against her.

He kissed her again, swallowing the whimper that slipped past her lips. His body pressed fully against hers, trapping her between him and the tree, and gods, she could feel him.

“You’re exquisite like this,” he whispered against her lips, his fingers still working her open, still teasing, still keeping her just on the edge. “Soft, pliant, desperate .” He smirked, nipping at her jaw. “Would you like me to finish what I started, darling?”

Tav nodded. 

Astarion’s lips were at her ear, nipping as his expert fingers circled her again and again and again. 

Just right. 

Tight, little circles. 

She gasped in a breath to say ‘faster’, but he already knew. 

And then she was clutching his arms, legs weak as she tried to keep herself up. The warmth curled and curled, the pleasure so close to breaking and—

Astarion pulled away. 

Tav gasped out a horrendous whine and looked up at him. He smiled.

“Oh darling, I almost got you there, didn’t I? And, oh, how easy it was. I had you falling apart with your clothes still on.”

Tav huffed, suddenly angry. He was making fun of her. He probably never wanted to sleep with her at all. Just to laugh at her. 

But then Astarion was lifting her shirt over her head and grabbing her waist. 

And then she was on her back, the cool forest floor shocking her as Astarion loomed above. His lips found her neck first, before drifting lower—across her collarbone, down the slope of her sternum.

When his tongue flicked against her navel, she jolted, hips bucking instinctively against him. He only laughed, a dark, pleased hum.

"So eager," he mused. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants, pulling just enough to tease.

“Will you be quiet for me darling?” he asked. 

She shook her head, there was no way she could keep quiet. 

Astarion groaned, low and pleased, and then—her pants were gone.

His hands were everywhere, mapping every inch of newly exposed skin. His mouth followed, trailing heat in its wake, and when his lips finally—finally—settled between her thighs, she lost any hope of staying quiet.

The first lick was like the rapture.

Tav's back arched off the forest floor, her hands gripping into Astarion's shoulders as a moan ripped from her throat. 

She writhed beneath him, her hands clenching the grass under them. His tongue licked up her center and then lazily stroked around her clit. 

Tav's hips bucked, desperate for more. "Astarion, please," she begged, her voice shaking with need. "Don't stop."

His finger sought her entrance, sliding easily inside her. Her hands dug into his hair when he curled that finger inside her just right. And when he added another, she was moaning loudly, shaking. 

He pumped his fingers, curling them expertly. The pleasure erupted.

And then she wasn’t breathing—only writhing, shaking, and spasming against him until the waves of pleasure finally subsided. 

Then she gasped for air, body falling back against the forest floor—limp.

And…it was easy to get there. So easy. 

Astarion was seductive, attentive, and it made it all so easy.

It made her think… 

“I never thought your cunt would taste as good as your blood,” he said, smiling. “But it does.”

Tav opened her eyes to see Astarion licking his lips, the shine of her arousal on his chin. 

She could see the straining of his pants, the evidence of how aroused he was. She sat up quickly, feeling her head spin, and reached for him. 

“Lie back,” she said.

Tav wanted him to feel as good as she did. She had to repay him. 

Astarion hesitated for a moment, his eyes boring into hers with an unreadable expression. Then, he lay back, resting on his elbows, his eyes never leaving her face as she straddled him. 

She loosened his stays, releasing him from his confines. 

Astarion’s cock was imposing, long and thick, pale and smooth. Her hand wrapped around its girth, a shiver running through her body as she gripped it.

He was far larger than Wyll. 

The second she touched him, Astarion's eyes widened with hunger, his breathing quickening as she stroked him. He reached up, brushing his fingers through her hair. 

"I thought I was meant to take care of you,” he said. 

“You did.”

His cock was like velvet in her hands, the hardest velvet she had ever felt. She stroked him a couple of times, and he shuddered. She was captivated by the way his pale skin moved over his glistening head. The head of his cock was so swollen with blood it looked purple. 

She ran her thumb over his head, licking her lips, wishing she could taste him. Gods, he would fill her mouth completely. She could hardly imagine how he would fit inside her. 

“Tav,” Astarion gritted out. 

She pumped him again in her hand, squeezing harder. 

Astarion’s hands found her waist. “If you do not mount me, I will fuck you myself.”

She grinned, feeling like she was in power. She stroked him several more times before Astarion shifted, bucking his hips and lifting her until she hovered over him. 

Scrambling, Tav placed her hands on his shoulders and shifted her weight on her knees so she was more in control, but Astarion yanked her down. 

Her legs trembled as his tip brushed against her glistening folds. “Wait—”

Astarion leaned in and nipped at her neck. “I am a man of my word, Tav. Now sit.”

Tav swallowed and lowered herself gently. There was pressure as his head pushed against her. His thick cock bowed slightly at the pressure, and then it slid inside. Just an inch.

Immediately she felt that burning stretch. 

She had felt it once. One night, when she wasn’t very aroused, Wyll had pushed himself inside her while she was still dry.

But she wasn’t dry this time. She was dripping wet, and Astarion still stretched her. 

The vampire’s eyes locked onto hers, his expression unguarded as he watched her struggle—watching her intently as she slowly, slowly descended onto him.

Tav's body trembled, every nerve ending on fire as she tried to ease herself down. Astarion's girth stretched her, filling her in a way she had never experienced before. 

She bit her lip against a scream, and for a moment, she froze.

Astarion's hand left her hip to thread through her hair, stroking the strands gently as he whispered soothing words in her ear.

"That's it, darling..." he murmured, "Just relax and let me in... I won't hurt you."

Tav's breath hitched, her body slowly relaxing at the sound of his voice. She took a deep breath and lowered herself further, trying to focus on his words as more of him filled her until she was seated fully upon him. She was unbearably full. 

Her eyes watered from the intensity of it all.

"You see, darling?" Astarion sighed against her neck. "I told you it wouldn't hurt."

She let out a noise.

“Yet,” he hissed, bucking up into her once. 

She let out a guttural moan and gripped his shoulders tightly. She leaned forward, making it easier for her to control the movements and she began to ride him. Up…and…down. 

Slowly.

It was all she could take.

Astarion's hands gripped her waist tightly as he matched her pace, his hips rising to meet each of her thrusts. 

Her forehead met his as they continued, skin glistening, bodies tightening. 

“Fuck,” she muttered, breathing heavily as she clutched him tightly. He felt incredible, so fucking incredible. She had never felt like this. 

Astarion sat up more, using one arm to wrap around her waist so he could better control the movements, and she knew he knew what he was doing. 

He was a master at it. 

So, when he angled himself differently against her, hitting a sensitive spot, Tav whined so loud she was sure the camp might hear. 

Tav’s head tipped back, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she rode Astarion. His hands were firm, guiding her, coaxing her deeper into pleasure with every movement. His mouth was everywhere—her neck, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, teeth scraping just enough to make her shudder.

And then—

“Tav?”

The voice cut through the night.

Astarion went still beneath her.

Wyll.

A sickening wave of realization crashed over her. What was she doing ?

Wyll was kind. Wyll was good . And he didn’t deserve this.

She scrambled off Astarion, nearly toppling over in her rush. He let out a soft, amused tsk but didn’t try to stop her. Her pulse was a frantic drum against her ribs.

The crunch of boots on leaves sent a fresh jolt of panic through her. Wyll was walking nearby.

Tav ducked low, crouching behind a thick patch of brush just as his silhouette came into view. He was holding up a lantern, its warm glow slicing through the trees, illuminating the furrow in his brow.

He was several feet away.

“Where did you go…?” he muttered to himself, turning his head from side to side. His expression was wary but not suspicious. Not yet.

Tav willed herself to stay silent. Through the gaps in the foliage, she watched as Wyll turned the other way, his lantern swinging slightly. He scanned the forest. 

A hand clutched her ankle and yanked her back, her breasts flattening on the cold dirt. Before she could yelp in surprise, a cold hand clamped over her mouth, quieting her.

“Hush, darling. We wouldn’t want your sweet, ignorant beau to see you being ridden by a dangerous vampire,” he whispered.

What was he…?

His body climbed over hers, his knee spreading her thighs. Her heart pounded as she saw Wyll slightly turn his head in their direction. 

Astarion’s hand was still clamped over her mouth, his body a solid weight against her back. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice a whisper of silk and sin.

“He’s so close,” Astarion murmured, his hips shifting against her in a slow, deliberate grind. “Do you think he’d hear you if I made you moan?”

Tav squeezed her eyes shut, her breath escaping in a ragged exhale against his palm. He was insane . Reckless.

The lantern light wavered, flickering through the brush.

Tav felt undeniable pressure against her backside, and then Astarion exhaled in her ear as he slipped inside of her again. His hand muffled her gasp as he pushed himself deeper. 

His other hand was braced on the dirt, the veins in his hand raised as his hips pressed against hers. 

Astarion was larger than Tav, and heavier. She tried to raise her torso, to better see, but Astarion’s weight held her down. 

“Shhhhh,” he whispered in her ear, his voice so sweet and silky. 

Tav swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs. She could feel Astarion’s amusement in the way he held her, in the way his fingers dug into the earth beside her. He was enjoying this—the thrill of being on the precipice, the sharp edge of danger just a breath away.

Wyll’s lantern swung closer. Tav could see the gleam of his boots through the underbrush. He was only steps away.

They were lucky the waterfall hid some of the noise, but there was no way Wyll wouldn’t hear the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Astarion’s lips moved again, his breath hot against her skin. “Do you think he’d be angry, pet?” he mused. “If he found you like this? Would he be heartbroken?” He punctuated his words with a strong thrust of his hips. “Or simply humiliated?”

Another deep thrust.

Tav clenched her jaw, willing her body to stay still, to not tremble beneath the weight of him. She should be ashamed. She was ashamed. But gods, it was hard to think when Astarion was like this—when he made her feel so alive.

When his cock was sliding through her and it felt electric .

He began to pick up the pace and Tav dug her fingers into the earth,nails biting into pebbles. 

No, no, no. They were making too much noise. 

Wyll was going to hear. 

Through the brush he swung his lantern and walked a few steps to the thicker side of the bushes. 

Astarion grinned wickedly, his eyes locked on Wyll's movement. "He might hear you, darling," he whispered, thrusting more forcefully now. 

He was fucking her into the earth, just like how a vampire might.

Tav bit her lip. She had to stay calm, focus on keeping quiet. But her walls were clenching, her arousal growing higher and higher. 

She had never felt an ascent this intense. 

She was going to erupt.

Tav felt Astarion begin to speed up, his movements growing more urgent and desperate. Her name was whispered over and over again from his lips as he plunged deeper into her with every thrust.

A twig snapped to the far side of the forest and Wyll turned his head, and began to walk farther away. 

“Finally,” Astarion grunted, and began pounding Tav into the dirt, hand still over her mouth. The slap against skin was audible now. There was no way Wyll couldn’t hear it, even as he was walking away. 

Astarion let out a groan, his rhythm faltering for a moment, before picking back up. His pinky caressed her bottom lip, and she could feel the slickness between them as he pushed himself closer, deeper. 

“You know, pet. I said I was going to feed. We have to keep up appearances, don’t we?”

His mouth grazed the back of her shoulder, then up her neck. “Should I bite your scruff while I fuck you in front of your boyfriend? Like a wild beast?”

The shame of it all mingled with the dirty delight that coursed through her veins. Astarion was right; she had never felt anything like this before. The devilish thrill of being caught, the illicit nature of their encounter in front of Wyll... It was too much, too intense.

The pleasure was building, her body coiling tighter and tighter. 

Wyll turned around and began walking back toward them. 

Her panic flared and she writhed.

Astarion’s hand clamped down harder against her mouth. “Shush darling,” he whispered tightly in her ear. “Can you keep quiet while I bite you?”

They were going to get caught. 

She might as well give up.

Her head fell against the floor as her body coiled tighter and tighter and tighter. 

Astarion’s teeth sank into the side of her neck, biting part of the muscle in her shoulder. The pain was more intense than when he first bit her all those nights ago. 

She bit his own hand, body shaking. 

Wyll had stopped moving. The light from his lantern flickered in the darkness, casting eerie shadows over the forest floor. Tav could almost feel the glow of the lantern, and she knew that any moment he might see them.

The thought was almost too much for her to bear. 

In that moment, Astarion gave a deep thrust, and she felt his cock swell slightly, and his seed erupted inside her. 

The heat was unlike anything she had felt before, the pressure of his come making her walls flutter and clench. 

Her body reached its peak, the pleasure came in beautiful, powerful waves, and she cried out in spite of herself. 

Astarion’s hand instantly tightened on her mouth.

The sound was small, muffled, but it was there.

As if on cue, Wyll whirled around. Astarion stopped moving completely, but his cock was still spasming, and her walls clenched again and again, making her breath in quick gasps through her nose. 

Astarion pinched her nose, as well as covering her mouth, so that no noise came from her.

His mouth was still on her skin, and she felt a trickle of blood leak down the side of her neck. 

The shine of Wyll’s boots was a few inches away, right on the other side of the bush. And Astarion was as still as stone on top of her. 

Her lungs were burning. 

The lantern was almost illuminating them. Any second now Wyll would yell at them. 

“Where the fuck is she?” Wyll mumbled, and stepped back. 

And back. 

And back.

And then finally, the glow of his lantern disappeared as he walked deeper into the forest. 

Astarion removed his hand and Tav gasped in a breath, chest heaving in gulps of air.

Astarion licked up the thin line of escaped blood, savoring it as he slowly withdrew from her. She winced at the pressure, her body still thrumming from what they had done.

She let out a shaky breath. Her limbs felt weak, her heart still hammering in her chest. Gods . What had she just done?

Her fingers reached up and brushed over her throat, where his fangs had sunk in moments before. She could still feel the ghost of his touch—his hands gripping her, his lips at her skin, the heat pooling between them. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to glance over her shoulder at him.

He was brushing dirt off his thighs.

Tav slowly pushed herself up from the ground. She knew she must look disheveled. Hair a mess. Eyes glazed. Face flushed. 

Astarion stood there, utterly at ease, a lazy smile curling his lips as he extended a hand to help her up. His fingers lingered at her hips before he let go.

He then pressed her bundle of clothes into her hands. Tav accepted them, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched the fabric to her chest.

She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head at herself. Reckless. Stupid. She had let herself get carried away—let him carry her away.

Astarion pulled his pants up and over his glistening cock. Tav couldn’t help but stare. 

His seed slipped down her thigh.

Astarion walked up and slid his hand gently against her skin, catching his seed, before plunging his fingers inside her, forcing her to take all of him. To keep him inside her.

Tav gasped and clutched onto his arm.

He laughed, low and knowing. “Oh, darling,” he whispered. “We’re going to have so much fun together.” 

Astarion sucked at his fingers when he withdrew them from her trembling sex.

He patted her bare bum, smirking as she sucked in a breath, and then, just like that, he turned and strolled back toward camp.

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 6

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay! I was focused on my studies. I took the exam, then I couldn’t focus on writing because I was too worried about whether I passed or not. I found out yesterday that I did pass! Having said that, please allow me a few extra days for the next chapter than my typical 7-10 day posting routine so I can prepare myself for my job. Once all that is taken care of, things should go back to normal. I strive to give my audience quality writing rather than trying to speed through it and have the story suffer. I know that this chapter is a bit shorter, but I wanted to give you guys at least something! Thank y’all so much for your patience <3 - Captain

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can’t recall when the hell you got home last night. It was almost like you woke up from a dream that was too realistic— the kind when you wake up and briefly forget where or who you are. An annoying, dull headache brushes against your skull as you kick your bedsheets off of yourself. You groaned, slowly sitting up as your headache lightly pulsed. It would have made you want to smack yourself for drinking too much last night, but every beat of pain came with fond memories of your night with Vi.

You chuckle to yourself at how dorky the two of you probably looked on the dance floor before you managed to grab some drinks. You stand up, putting a hand to your mouth to stifle a gag. You groggily walk to your bathroom and drink from the faucet to tame your nausea and hangover. You pick your head up and look at yourself in the mirror, feeling nasty for not at least washing your face before crashing out into the bed. Your eyes quickly catch some discoloration on your neck, your heart feeling like it stopped. 

You squint at the mark, your stomach flipping in a way that completely overpowered the nausea. It was faint. Bruiselike. Just enough to make your brain jump to conclusions. You put both your hands on your head, trying to squeeze out any ounce of memory that might have brought this upon yourself. You and Vi were dancing pretty closely… Did the two of you put gentle hands on each other? Well yes, how else can you steady each other after bottomless drinks? Was it your hand that tugged her closer to you by her belt loop? No, no. You did that because someone tried to dance between you guys. Her face got pretty darn close to yours. But how else were the two of you supposed to hear each other? Was dancing always that intimate? It couldn’t have been from anyone else! Vi would never let someone else do that; she was so serious about mending the friendship after all. Is it normal for new friends to be that way?

You press a finger to it, expecting the soreness of a love bite, but all you feel is a dry and chalky residue. Your brows furrow as you smear it.

‘What the hell…?’

Then it clicks. It was most likely a smudge from Vi’s gloves when she grabbed your neck to steady herself mid-laugh on the way home. You exhale, half in relief and half in exasperation, before shaking your head at yourself. You then peel off last night’s clothing to freshen up and to go about your day.

You felt refreshed after a much needed shower. It didn’t completely douse out the hangover, but you still felt a lot better. You catch a glimpse of your reflection again: bare s/c) skin, damp hair, and tired eyes. You lean in once more, a tiny smile forming in the corner of your mouth. Just tired eyes. For once, you didn’t see hollow sadness in them; they were just tired from last night’s shenanigans. 

Most mornings were the worst. You wake up groggy despite sleeping most of the day, your face hurting from constantly crying, and feeling the weight of grief shackled to your ankles. But this time, nothing.

You blink, almost startled by your realization. Partying with Vi last night, laughing until your ribs hurt, stumbling in the streets afterwards— it had taken up all the space in your mind. There had not been any room left for reminiscing about your ex. No bitter flashbacks, no ache in your chest, no empty feeling gnawing at you the moment you woke up.

Vi was good for you. With her, you didn’t have to think about the past that much.

You ate some of your subpar leftovers for breakfast, or lunch, whatever time of day it was. You then linger in your apartment longer than necessary. There’s nothing stopping you from heading out; It’s not like you have any real obligations other than wondering about how much more cogs are needed for you to make ends meet by the end of the month. But you hesitate anyways, unsure of what exactly you’re waiting for. Your fingers tap against your thighs idly as your eyes flicker toward your door.

You could go find Vi. You know where she lives after all.

The thought comes so quickly and so naturally that it catches you off guard. You were not much for drinking or nightlife before, but now? You woke up feeling like crap, but it wasn’t the same kind of misery that used to linger after you spent countless nights dwelling on the past. Your ex hadn’t crossed your mind once since last night. But the more you stay put, the more memories of them you recall. You stare at the floor, trying to preserve what memories you had of last night before the haunting of the past smothers all that goodness. You have to make new memories– better memories—and it will start with Vi.

Vi is good for you.

Before you could even move, there was knocking on your door. It made you jump.

When you pull the door open, Vi is standing there with her hands in her pockets. Her expression is relaxed like she belongs there.

“Morning, (Y/n),” she grins, “You look alive. I half expected you to be crawling on the floor to get to the door.”

You blink, caught between relief and confusion. “Vi! What are you doing here?”

Vi tilts her head, her bangs coming off her face. “Last night you asked me to come by tomorrow. Tomorrow is now. You said something about needing help selling shit, or something. Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”

You frantically search for any recollection of that conversation. Nope. Nothing.

Vi shakes her head, “ I knew you were out of it last night, but I didn’t think you were that bad,” she laughs. 

You laugh with her, albeit from confusion and not because it’s funny to you. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Vi, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Vi shakes her head once again with a smile, looking down at the floor before looking back at you. “So… you want me to come back later then?”

“No!” you protest quickly. You clear your throat. “No, no. I actually do need to get rid of some stuff. I didn’t have enough time to sell everything I wanted yesterday.”

Vi leans against the doorway before saying, “Alright, let’s get to it then. I told Loris to find a good spot, so once we find him we’ll get started. Where’s the stuff? I can carry it for you.”

Your eyes dart to the large bag by the door. It was in the exact same spot as you tossed it yesterday. Vi follows your gaze, leaning forward a bit to get a better look. You look at her as she leans forward, spotting the pink roots of her hair. You hum, curiosity piqued. You’re glad she came.

Vi watches you as you grab the bag on the floor. You pretend not to notice her trying to take a peek at the rest of your apartment before you let yourself out. She takes your bag from your hands, not giving you a chance to protest.

As the two of you walked, you kept looking at her. Especially her hair.

 “If you stare any longer, my face will have a hole burnt through it,” she jokes, her powder blue eyes meeting yours, “but if I have something on my face, you better not let me walk around with it.”

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t know that you were a natural pinkette,” you explain, your face warm from being caught, “I don’t see a lot of Zaunites with pink hair. At least not natural, from what I can tell.”

Vi clears her throat, looking away. “Ah, yeah. I prefer my hair black right now.”

“I like your black hair too. I am curious about what you look like with your natural hair color, though.”

Vi pauses before flashing you a playful smile. “Stay curious.”

You exhale through your nose, rolling your eyes.

Vi wasn't sure if she felt guilty about lying to you. You never actually asked her to come by. But what was she supposed to do? Let her new friend struggle to make ends meet? The thought didn’t sit right with her. Besides, selling things was better than sitting around wondering when she’d be able to fight again. 

Yeah, lying to a friend is shitty, but she knew that her loss and absence in the arena probably took a hit on your pocket. At least by helping you sell your things, you are guaranteed to end the day with a pocketful of cogs. But there was another part of Vi that still felt that ache in her pride. You wouldn’t have had to resort to getting rid of your stuff if she was a better fighter. She felt a sense of purpose to have people– especially her friends like you and Loris– to be able to rely on her for something. That sense of purpose—of being needed by someone, of being useful—was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. For all the mistakes she’d made, maybe this could be her chance to do something right. At least for you.

Vi hadn't expected to become attached to anyone so quickly. But here she was, silently caring about how you were doing, even if she isn’t showing it right now. She wasn't used to letting people in—certainly not someone like you, who seemed so... different from the rough edges of Zaun. Yet, when she saw you that first night, when you seemed so downcast and out of place, something about that vulnerability struck a chord deep inside her. 

You needed her.

There was a HUGE part of Vi that was drawn to you because she desires being needed. It wasn't just the fighting, drinking, and amnesia from the past that she craved—it was the idea that she could be the one to help you, to fix something that had been broken. But every time she looked at you, she felt that strange, gnawing feeling deep in her chest. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t sympathy. It was something else. Something that made her feel like maybe she could distract herself from her own mess if she focused on yours. 

Her gaze lingers on you. She has failed the people who were dearest to her time and time again. But you’re still here. She fucked up with you twice, but you’re still here.

‘Let’s do it right this time.’ Your voice echoes in her head. She has never been granted forgiveness that quickly. Not by her own sister or by Caitlyn. But you did.  

However, she couldn't shake the thought that maybe she was doing this for the wrong reasons. Maybe she just wanted to feel like she was still someone worth relying on. Someone who mattered. But she wouldn’t admit that. Not to herself. Not to you.

You’re an escape to all that she has done wrong. You, (Y/n), will be everything she has done right. 

*

The two of you meet up with Loris by the heart of Zaun. If you were here alone, you would rather get yanked by your eyelashes than attempt to sell anything by yourself in this area. The place is gritty, bustling with people who’d either sell their grandmother for a cog or buy something without blinking an eye. 

“I’m glad you two are here with me,”  you say, giving Loris a small smile as you settle your bag onto the ground. You don’t want to look like you’re overreacting, but the weight of the situation is heavy in your chest. “I really appreciate it.”

Vi rolls her eyes, but the smirk she gives you is softer than usual. “You don’t have to thank us,” she grumbles. “We’re just helping you out, that’s all. Don’t get all sappy or I might start calling in favors and make you owe me your life or something.”

“Seriously?” you laugh, “How could I not thank you? It feels wrong not to.”

“You’re giving me cavities here, cupcake,” she jokes, nudging you with her shoulder. Her strength is evident, making you stumble back a few steps, but you don’t mind it at all.

“Cupcake?” you scoff, “That’s what you called me that other night.”

Vi stiffens, a look of shame crossing her face. “Oops, sorry. It’s a dumb nickname. I shouldn’t be calling you that. I used to call my—”

“I kind of like it. But don’t overuse it, alright?” you interrupt, pulling a pair of pants from the bag. Vi laughs dryly, acknowledging your words with a nod.

When she smiles at you, when she makes that sharp retort or that dry joke, you find yourself laughing without thinking. It feels so damn good, like you’ve been holding your breath for too long and now you can finally exhale. But at the same time, there’s something unsettling about it. You know you’re not looking at Vi like a person, at least not entirely. You’re looking at her as a way to escape, to forget what you’ve been trying to outrun for so long. The nagging memories of your ex, the broken promises, the pain that’s still lurking beneath the surface—it all fades when Vi’s around. 

These thoughts begin to haunt you because you don’t want to need anyone that way. You don’t want to rely on someone else just to feel okay, just to fill that emptiness inside you. You know deep down that it can get unhealthy very quickly, that leaning on Vi so much is only going to cause problems. But for now, at this moment, it feels safe. Maybe that’s enough.

Loris and Vi help you out with selling some of your valuables. Their intimidation factor made you feel secure— it was like having two scary dogs. People were more willing to give you a fair price for things rather than trying to haggle with you to lower the prices so much. The negative side about it, however, was that most people seemed too afraid to approach. Only the people who looked somewhat more well-off gave you a chance. 

“Loris, can you try smiling?” you ask him, “I feel like we’re a bit too scary.”

“I’m jollier than Vi on a winning streak,” he remarks. “Trust me, kid, it's not me.”

He gestures towards Vi, who is glaring down every passerby with her arms crossed. She probably doesn’t mean to, but she’s scowling.

You take a few side steps towards her. She looks at you, her face relaxing. “Hey, (Y/n).”

You put a hand on her arms, encouraging her to unfold them. “You can relax, you know.”

“I always look like this!” She looks down at herself.

“If you keep it up, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Vi couldn’t help but chuckle at your words. She tries a more relaxed posture, putting her hands in her pockets and leaning her weight on one hip. “Is this better, ma’am?” she teases, giving you the fakest toothy smile you have ever seen.

You laugh, bumping her with your hip. “You know what I mean!”

The dimming light of Zaun’s sky was casting long shadows across the crowded streets. It made everything appear colorful; the neon lights highlighted concrete surfaces in greens, yellows, and purples. You stood on the edge of the marketplace, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, as you watched people bustle around, haggling and shouting, their voices a blend of desperation and excitement. The weight of the day pressed against you, and you found yourself feeling smaller than usual within all the chaos. 

Vi rummaged through your bag of items. There wasn’t too much left, but she was determined to help you get rid of the last of your stuff. She and Loris were the kind of people who made this kind of thing look effortless, while you had to fight yourself to not crumble under the weight of it all. 

“You can relax, you know,” Vi teases, making you eat your words, “You gonna stare at the ground all night?”

“I’m just tired,” you muttered, glancing at her.

“I think we sold enough,” Loris chimes in, “We could walk you home, (Y/n).”

Vi looks at Loris, then back at you before saying, “Wait! You don’t have to leave now. We didn’t get a chance to go out and do something else. Oh, but… if you’d rather go home we could catch up tomorrow or something?”

You didn’t catch the desperate undertone of her voice. Something, or rather someone caught your eye. A figure, standing on the opposite side of the street. You froze when you saw them. Someone you wished stayed in the past.

Your ex.

They stood with their back to you, chatting with other people. They were completely unaware of your presence. The sight of them, so familiar and so distant, made a lump form in your throat. All the happiness of being with Vi and Loris that you enjoyed was quickly overshadowed by your ex lover’s very presence.

You hadn’t seen them since you kicked them out. The way things ended between you two was still too fresh to process. You weren’t ready to completely process it. It didn’t help that they looked the same as when you saw them last: casual, laid-back, and oblivious to the weight of the pain and suffering they left on you. They had the same mannerisms as they sold a box of their special shimmer to the people who have fallen on hard times. You turned a blind eye to this behavior in the past, but seeing it happen again before you made all the feelings of guilt, shame, and disgust well up in your chest. You were just as shitty of a person as they were for looking past that. 

The image of their empty vials of shimmer lying about the ring flashes through your head. Seeing Vi struggle to fight back. The image of her laying on the floor. Now with the knowledge that it was their damn formula that they sold to The Pit, and the knowledge that they indirectly nearly ended Vi’s fighting career was enough to make you nauseous. 

“(Y/n)?” Loris speaks, sensing the shift in your demeanor. You looked like you were about to pass out. Now Vi turned her attention to you. 

“Hey,” Vi called out, walking up next to you. Her voice was soft. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. You were too fixated on watching your ex.

 Without thinking, you took a step back. Your wide (e/c) eyes unblinking, your gaze never leaving them.

Vi tracked your movements. “You alright?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

They never even looked your way.

Vi, noticing your stiffened posture, stepped in front of you. She looked back to see who or what you might be looking at, but she couldn’t tell where exactly. She faced you again, softly putting her hands on your shoulders. “Hey, let’s get out of here.” Her voice was far from stern or harsh. It was gentle. Nurturing. 

You swallowed hard, still swimming in the feelings that whirlpooled around you. 

“They didn’t… They don’t even… They don’t even know I’m here…” you muttered under your breath, fighting the stink of a sad and angry sting in your eyes.

Vi gently nudges you, her expression serious, “(Y/n), look at me.”

Your eyes focused on hers rather than looking past her.

“Let’s just get away from here, yeah? Come on.” She turns you around, letting Loris grab your things before the three of you disappear into a quieter area. 

*

The alleyway was silent except for the distant sounds of Zaun’s hustle. Loris stood guard while Vi comforted you. She was trying to coax you into a better mood, but everything felt heavier tonight. You already cried on your walk to this area, but now you were just pissed. You were so fucking angry at yourself for letting their presence take away the glee of being with your two friends. You were mad because you didn’t expect this whole situation to hit you that hard. Most importantly, the brief self-reflection about you ever being involved with someone so distasteful made you feel like the dumbest thing to ever exist. You were fuming.

“Come on…” she says softly, almost pleading. Her voice is higher in pitch. This was an unspoken challenge wrapped in warmth to her.

You fold your arms, turning your body slightly away from her. You hated her seeing you like this. You felt like a child. You had a scowl on your lips.

Vi doesn’t give up on you. She nudges your shoulder with hers, the softness of it was a clear invitation for you to look at her. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes averted. But she’s too persistent.

“Cupcake…?” she draws out the word.

Damn it. Your mouth twitches, the muscles in your face wanting to betray you. The nickname had no right making you smile. But Vi noticed that microexpression. A smirk spreads across her face as she steps in front of you. You turn your head away, but she follows. She’s so close now that you can feel the soft puff of her breath on your skin. 

“You know you want to,” she says with a grin, hands in her pockets. She’s beginning to enjoy this. “C’mon. You want to smile so bad.”

You grit your teeth, your jaw tightening. You are fighting your own face. You can feel the edge of a smile creeping onto your face. Vi’s silly confidence had a way of blowing away the angry cloud on top of your head. She was like a beacon of light that you couldn’t avoid. It was so new to you. 

“I don’t…” you start, but speaking made it hard for you to maintain your angry face.

Vi’s grin widens, “You don’t?” she raises her scarred eyebrow as she leans in just a bit closer. “Your mouth is kinda twitchy. Go on, let me see those teeth. Come on. I won’t tell anyone!”

The challenge in her eyes. The warmth of her smile. The way she was so damn close to you— you break. You can’t help it. Your lips curl upwards, and despite your last efforts to look mad, you end up laughing softly.

Vi steps back, nodding in satisfaction, “Ah, there it is!”

You roll your eyes, rubbing your face from the soreness of fighting it. “Whatever. You’re ridiculous.”

“I know. But at least I’m fun.” 

“You two make me sick.” Loris calls out, glancing over his shoulder.

The two of you exchange a glance and laugh. For a moment, the two of you stand there. Your tension fades as her presence grounds you. 

“I won’t pressure you to talk to me about it. But whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Okay?” she puts a hand on your shoulder. You nod, giving her a real smile that she deserves. That she earned.

Even if you weren’t ready to open up fully, it felt a little easier to breathe.

End of Ch. 6

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Ch. 7 (IN PROGRESS)

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart @brbaabs

Sorry again for the delay and shorter chapter! I'm hoping to make Chapter 7 the longest chapter since I'll be taking a few days.

[theprinceandthewitch]

I didn't think the Bible and The Pilot would make Sense and Insensitivity even more suspicious than it was... but it did...

The Lunter kiss really is going to haunt me forever...

[umbreonix]

I forgot I never posted this outside of discord XD but this was a lil secret santa exchange I did for @ponie-cornious <3

[soap-is-an-artist]

Hooray... it's 7 in the morning and I stayed up all night listening to the imperium... I feel so happy and satisfied with my life choices...

I am feeling very much not cowabunga, dude

[SEVERE rambling in tags]

[hanzajesthanza]

the headcanon that regis can hang from the ceiling to sleep or rest like a bat is funny on its own, but when i consider geralt and others in the hanza holding conversations with him like this, it’s made better by my understanding of this as just an advanced “neurodivergent sitting” technique

[coridallasmultipass]

brocal for the ship bingo?

The OTP to end all other OTPs... (Man. This wound up being basically Cori's Masterpost of BroCal. AKA... this got long and has some images, since I realized I can post my own art directly instead of just a text link to it lol.)

Wasn't actually expecting this to wind up with a bingo? But I got basically 2?? (Will explain the lighter heart later.) This is A LONG post, and definitely gonna get SUGGESTIVE, bc man, am I obSESSED with BroCal. I'm just gonna go thru each checked box, since I don't know how else to structure this post lol.

Read More to save ppl's dashboards:

I want them to make out with blood: OKAY. I HAVE A WHOLE THING PLANNED FOR THIS CONCEPT. I AM NOT GOING TO GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT IT JUST YET BC I ACTUALLY WANNA WRITE IT. I'm obsessed with this one fanart of Bro licking Lil Cal, and it spurred on an idea I outlined and really wanna write: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/739969858334294016/hiiii-mutual-i-am-secrecy-asking-if-u-have-anymore

((Sorry for the plain text links, Tumblr app is NOT cooperating with me right now to add hyperlinks. I'd post the image directly if that one was mine.))

Basically, I just really need to see Bro and Cal making out with blood in their mouths, and I started a whole convoluted, unrelated outline in order to make that hapen. It'll probably just be a really short thing that ends at the uh climax, since otherwise it's gonna end up sadstuck. And I don't like sadstuck lol.

Undeniably t4t: Bro and Dirk are always trans for me, and Lil Cal's got that uh... what percentage did I calculate it out to be? 13% of Dirk is in Lil Cal [ My shitpost calculations: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/746702663327072256/i-ran-out-of-tags-rambling-about-this-so-im-just ] so Lil Cal is at least 13% trans because of that much of Dirk being in him, plus however you feel about the other components being trans. LMAO this is ridiculous to type out. Moving on.

EDIT: FUTURE CORI INTERJECTING WITH A:

"Lil Cal Top Surgery Healing Progess: Day 1"

Terrible for each other affectionate/derogatory: I don't even know where the affectionate/derogatory split occurs. I multiship BroCal as both Bro/normal puppet Lil Cal and as Bro/evil juju puppet Lil Cal, and whatever combination in between or outside of that. Terrible in that Bro is so obsessed with Cal that he doesn't have normal relationship/social skills and uses Lil Cal as both a crutch and motivator alternately, in a terrible cycle, or maybe rather... spiral. And also terrible in that Bro is caught in the allure of playing the role of puppeteer while also being a puppet for the darker parts of Lil Cal, whether he actively knows it or not. (Honestly though, I feel like it's dismissive if you try to blame all of Bro's faults on Lil Cal like this tho, which is why I tend towards liking Lil Cal as just a regular puppet a lil bit more. Or at least, a regular mildly supernatural puppet since that can be a little more entertaining if Cal can get into mischief while no one's looking or give off the vibes of his mood more directly, rather than like entirely inanimate or 'just LE, trapped in a puppet body.' Again, I like all of these concepts.) ((I mean that can also be a whole post of its own, like, by the time Bro gets ahold of Lil Cal, are any of the other components still alive in there? Like, are ARquius and Gamzee still in there or did Caliborn kill and consume them entirely? Idk how it works, man. This is why I like Lil Cal as his own person, maybe just influenced by the feelings of the others. LaCroix: CalGamARquius essenced water. Lil Croix.))

They need to get weirder with it: YES YES. 1000% YES. I need entirely shameless Bro doing entirely shamless things to Lil Cal. I want them inseparable and doing unspeakable things to each other. I want Bro taking full advantage of Cal having a puppet body and all the intimacy that comes with making repairs and being elbow-deep in stuffing.

Playing with them like dolls cute/psychological torture: This is the same divide as with the 'terrible for each other' point, so I'm just gonna go with the cute one, since the torture one is self-explanatory. I want them fucking married. Like. Full mushy cute romance type of relationship that Bro has never felt for any of the people in his life (cough aromantic cough). I made this comic not too long ago, and I often fondly look back on it, because I adore the concept of Bro being lovey and romantic and everything out of character around Lil Cal because he feels safe and loved and comfortable around Cal:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/750602227910131712/brocal-4-lyfe-so-i-had-this-idea-of-dave-being ]

I made a post a long, long time ago (not gonna link that one bc it was personal and I was being very obviously mentally ill ["C'mon, like you're not being obviously mentally ill while typing paragraph upon paragraph about BroCal still in 2024 like 10 years later??" Fair.]) But the gist of it was that, like, having objectophilia or objectum sexuality is like, from an outsider pov, it's a way to express love to yourself. You filter all your self-hate through the object you love, and you get back unconditional love in return.

Lil Cal is never gonna hate Bro, no matter what Bro does. As a regular puppet, Lil Cal doesn't have the capacity for hate. And so that only brings them closer, since Cal is never gonna reject Bro for any reason. (Back to being a crutch. RSD is real, and Dave is probably a big trigger for that since he's not on the same wavelength of weird as Bro [not blaming Dave, obviously, this is a post about BroCal].) Bro can experience receiving positive attention from Lil Cal, without feeling 'fake' or uncool by expressing that same attention or affection directly to his own self. (Things are always done through multiple layers with the Striders, aren't they?) ((And I'm not saying Lil Cal doesn't love Bro, or that their relationship is just pretend - it's real, I'm just like, 'What's going on behind the curtain in the mundane situation?/ How is the relationship appealing?' Lil Cal luvs Bro 5eva 4 lyfe and that's a hard fact. Could cut diamonds with that shit.)) Example: maybe Bro is dealing with a bout of body/gender dysphoria and is trying to take out his frustration with working out, and it's not helping, even if he's powered through a set better than normal. Then, he notices the way Lil Cal is watching him, and he can feel the excitement seeping off Cal. He can sense the echoes of a wolf-whistle ring out through his mind, and it's like. Okay, none of that shit from before matters, he's got all the validation he needs right there in Lil Cal. Maybe flex in Cal's direction, Bro?

Oh, so back to being cute: isn't it wonderful how the template maker phrased it as 'playing dolls'? But yeah, I want all the mush and everything. Bro has a whole wardrobe for Lil Cal for every minor event that occurs in the Strider household. I want them going on genuine dates. Maybe even... holding hands. Bro blushes for the first time since he was 16. He even gets to take Lil Cal with him when he goes out to DJ or put on a show. Not to mention the whole website business. (I've talked about Cal's role in that before, but I'll mention it in a moment...)

They will die in a heart shaped pool of blood: I mean, kinda did happen, even tho Lil Cal didn't perma die right there. I don't think this one needs any explanation, since it basically happens in canon.

'You should see the other guy...': Okay, so. About 11 years ago, I had a really great idea. About how smuppets enter this world. I expanded on it in the following more-recent post (adult only content lol): https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741683686717669376/back-in-the-day-my-friends-called-me-insane-when-i

To sum it up, whenever Bro makes a new smuppet design, he then gives it a video debut on his website, where uh, Lil Cal births the smuppet like it's a horror movie scene, fake blood and poly-fil gore all over the place as the smuppet crawls out from the viscera. Bro then gets to play aftercare by lovingly and gently cleaning up and restuffing Lil Cal as they get to admire their new creation and rake in the dough lol.

So it's technically not a 'you should see the other guy' kinda situation, but it does involve one of them being... idk what word would describe it. Injured by the other? Usually a character loses a fight and says this to act like they got out of it better than the other guy, but... We could have someone knock on the door during the filming of a scene like that, and Bro has to answer it with fake blood up to his elbows, and be like 'You should see the other guy.' (But obviously, that's a terrible idea and would cause more trouble than it's worth... Maybe worth it for a persistent door to door salesperson, though.)

Though, I guess I should also say, I'm not opposed to Bro beating on Lil Cal in or out of the bedroom. Or in the case of animate Lil Cal, Cal choking out Bro. In or out of the bedroom, lol. Depends on the situation, like I said I will ship this ship any which way. But my preference for animate Lil Cal is to be like a totally normal puppet around Bro (or mushy in-love with Bro) and then evil-murder-puppet towards anyone else in Bro's life, like a... toxic yaoi guard puppet. (New Phrase Achievement Unlocked!) Bro brings home another guy to have sex, who tries to stay the night due to the late hour, but the guy wakes up shortly after to see Lil Cal standing there with a knife in the dark, eyes glowing red. Panic ensues when the guest screams and freaks out, and by the time Bro's got a light on, grabbing his sword, ready for a ninja vs ninja fight (bc an intruder would've had to bypass all the traps), Lil Cal is just innocently splayed across the desk chair, no knife in sight. Relevant post (well, the caption on the post too, saying how Bro can't seem to hold onto any relationships besides Lil Cal):

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741830516962164736/i-want-you-so-youre-mine-always-selfishly ]

Uh, lol, also Cal choking out Bro in the bedroom, adult only drawing: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/754328907438800896/i-wouldnt-wanna-be-my-ex-when-he-found-out-who

Thinking about them always and forever: Listen. My Tumblr as proof, I've had BroCal on the brain for at least 11 years at this point. Definitely longer, since I first started reading Homestuck. I fucking love puppets and dolls and plushies and I always have. Man, if I hadn't deleted Tweets (automated app I used to do, and I couldn't choose what to save) from when I was in high school, you could've seen me @ ing my fave band when they were taking lyric suggestions on a fan-inspired album, where I was telling them 'make a song where the theme is puppets' and, while I don't know if they saw that or took the suggestion (they had responded to me before bc they weren't huge yet), there is indeed a song titled "Puppets" on that album, and it was my favourite song on there. Point is, I was fated to ship BroCal before I even knew it existed.

Sicko 2 sicko communication: I mean, does this even need explaining? Bro and Cal aren't just on the same wavelength of freaky, they're the fucking source of the wavelength, and it's causing a feedback loop between them. And it does as feedback does, which is, it amplifies with time. (Going back to the spiral symbolism here, lol.) ((Actually, time can play a symbol here, too, I guess, but idk how to word it, I'm starting to run out of steam.))

Let them have a happy ending: God, I need this so badly. I know Bro's story ends in Homestuck, but like. Pls. Someone needs to officiate their wedding. Currently placing the dreambubble order, but I can't organize a wedding by myself. OH speaking of. In that lil comic I did above, where Bro is accepting Lil Cal's proposal, I had the Natural Born Killers wedding scene in mind. I was gonna draw that as a follow up, but I think I have too many WIPs going. Just two people on the run, saying "I do" in a scenic but completely ordinary roadside location. Idk why, I keep going back to that movie for things related to Bro (I mention it in a very important scene in a longer WIP I've been writing, as something Bro watched and internalized as a kid lol.) It's not the best movie lol. Anyway.

The devotion omg: I feel like I have already gotten my point across about this, but let me reiterate:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/735842968450269184/in-the-name-of-iconic-magical-girl-anime-ill ]

Bro and Lil Cal absolutely beat the shit outta Jack Noir before he gets prototyped. And even then, they fight together till the death, like. C'mon. Nothing more romantic than fighting a losing battle side by side. Also, like, Lil Cal having his own protective chest for safekeeping as seen in the Strider living room? Like, you don't just have a protective case for any old thing, especially something meant to be handled, especially something that is regularly used to smack other things/humans. What I'm saying is, Lil Cal is durable and resilient, and yet, Bro still has a case for transporting Cal safely. Oh, wait, I just thought of something funny, what if Lil Cal goes feral like a cat, and basically the chest is like a cat carrier so Bro can drive without being constricted lmaoooo, I've been typing for hours can you tell?

Kind of homophobic: Listen. I HAD a Cal. Took him to college. Staked my claim on the top bunk bc I am royalty. Proceeded to not have anywhere to set my water cup and had to use a cardboard box as a table up there. Spilled water. Melted Cal's sharpie-drawn face. And then proceeded to cry. I have a WIP of Lil Cal 2, but that requires actually remembering to work on him. I wanna do better by the pattern, too, since I rushed to finish the first. I have all the material! I have the project started! So it's just a matter of reordering my WIP priorities, honestly.

Where is all the fucking content?!: For realzz. I was actually venting about this the other day (didn't end up posting it), but it's like, either there's no BroCal content, or there IS BroCal content, but I can't reblog it for reasons I don't want to get into on this post. I'm dying of thirst in the ocean, basically. Whatever. This just means I need to make more BroCal content myself, which I am more than happy to do. I've just had a rough past few months, so I'm glad I got to type all this post out, and hopefully I can get back to creating soon.

Last one! I hope this one makes up for the absurd length of the post, it's prob my new fave idea I just came up with on the spot.

[TW drink spiking by a stranger mentioned in this.]

Committing atrocities as their silly little activities: I think we all know what this means, but I am going to ignore that elephant with my special x-ray vision. Because this is a BroCal post. I'm digging deep to the meat and bones of this. Honestly, this could go multiple routes, it depends on how you take your Lil Cal.

One could place emphasis on the 'guard' part of the, ahem ahem, toxic yaoi guard puppet. Maybe someone is actually trying to harm Bro, and Bro legit can't do anything for reasons outside of his control - let's say his drink got spiked a while after he invited a stranger home that he thought was chill. As Bro gets shoved down on the futon, his memory of the night is only a few flickers. Familiar orange plush, roiling around above him like a dancing windsock. Flashes of Lil Cal's face all distorted and stretched wide like a funhouse. J-Lo and Ice Cube on the TV. But when Bro is finally able to fully wake up in the morning, everything is as if he just got home alone last night and passed out on the futon. Cal looks totally normal and content tucked under Bro's warm arm. Except when Bro gets up, there is a pair of shoes too big to belong to him at the door. Maybe Bro knows. Maybe instinct tells him to run. Maybe he does, but he's running towards Lil Cal, every time.

[maj0rmayhem]

Really feeling that post abt how yearning and loneliness is great until you're curled up on your bed whimpering at the ache in your chest like a wounded dog. are we cooked chat.

[keeps-ache]

think this is funny. anyway. the Thoughts are back at it again

[strohller27]

.

[heyitstaytay21]

I made it from Michigan to Kentucky before realizing that I left my computer monitor and headset behind 😩

[nobodybetterlookatme]

i hope you’re safe in your line of work. i’m sure it’s very difficult work and dangerous. it’s also very hot and sexy that you’re a firefighter so it’s really cool that you’re so brave

Well I'm still not dead so that's safe enough I guess lmao but this shit keeps dragging on, like it's crazy 😭 the work usually isn't too bad when we're not on incidents tho, like it's mainly just training and playing in the dirt ahdkaksk it's not as cool and sexy as you think it is unfortunately 😔 but I like to pretend it is and I have fun for the most part so that's all that really matters tbh lmao

[euclydya]

The heartache has finally stopped. Perhaps because I'm not apart of their little group?

[vile-wizard]

4am...again....

[lucyvaleheart]

.