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morgana-ren · 6 months ago

Note

Throwing out the idea that Astarion furiously masturbates over your sleeping body while he drinks your blood. Your blood is the first he’s ever drank in 200 years, it also dosn’t help that you keep being so nice to him. He can’t help it.

I am sorta back after months of medical troubles and I am announcing it in my normal fashion: with a reprehensible smut piece.

Warning: Extreme sexual content, vulgar language, thoughts of noncon, references to noncon, semi-dark Astarion, things that could be interpreted as sexual violence and regular violence, blood and the works.

The skulking has him feeling like more of a lowly rat than usual. He slinks quietly through the fauna like a cat stalking a canary, sneaking across the camp where he has made his own nest, his eyes darting about at every slight flicker of light and every unexpected noise. His comrades-in-arms sleep peacefully, strewn about the ground and various makeshift tents, blissfully unaware that a monster lurks within their midsts, and he fully intends to keep it that way.

As dastardly and lowly as he feels, an unknown feeling courses through him. Something that leaves him feeling strong– predatory. The weak blood of rodents and livestock thrums through his veins, every synapse sparking alive, the string and sinew of his body singing to his limbs in anticipation. Anxiety sends his thoughts racing, and yet, he is giddy as a child with mischief on the mind.

A long-denied truth demands acknowledgement, and so he finally acknowledges it. He is vampire. And he is hunting.

Even a spawn possesses fangs sharp enough to rend flesh from bone and claws of steel, honed to a fine point. His senses so keen that he is aware of the deer that scamper in the forest and the birds coupled away in the branches of trees on the outskirts of the meadow. The pulsing of blood that rings a siren’s song in his ears, awakening the long-dead glands nestled alongside his teeth.

He finds that, for once, he is not the victim in the arrangement. No, he isn't. In fact, he is the horror, looming over his vulnerable and slumbering mark, their body entirely at his mercy— His right to his to sink deep fang and claw and anything else he might deem fit, helpless to stop him. For once, his true self shines through in the dim firelight of camp, and he is not the Astarion he has been browbeaten into seeing himself as. He is not unmolded clay, ready to be shaped at will by clutching hands and eager thoughts. He is not malleable and he shall not bend.

He is not Astarion the spawn; Astarion the mongrel; Astarion the Honeypot; Astarion the tool to be used and discarded. He is not the meek, or the charming, or whatever else his prey finds need of. He is power and gluttonous greed incarnate. He is the prowling shadow over the unsuspecting sweet and he will take what he needs.

He is Astarion the Vampire– and he is ravenous.

The gentle toe-tip-toe through the grass to where his prey lies ignorant, sleeping so terribly peacefully, his silken shoes making nary a sound as he creeps ever closer. Feet light as air, graceful as a swan. Even the wind seems to disregard his presence, passing over him with hardly a fuss through his silver curls.

They suspect not a thing. Even the warrioress Lae’zel, her sharpened senses whetted like a blade, keeps her eyes sheathed shut, her breath even and her body unmoving. There is no cry of anger or protest as he approaches the clutch of blankets where you have made your rest, leering over your slumbering form, feeling all parts pure need as he observes.

Saliva slicks his ivory teeth like a slavering mutt, his hands almost shaking as he kneels on bended knee to witness the gently pulsing column of your exposed throat. It calls to him, sings to his senses, and every ounce of his being begs him to shred hungrily into his meal like a carnivore– like a beaten animal starved of nourishment. Like a dog offered scraps of offal.

But he is not an animal, and you are useful to him yet. He is dignified, but more than that, he is in control of himself. He is in control of his words and actions, and for one time in his all-too-long life, he will not yield to the whims of another, even the dark voice in the back of his mind that urges him to rip and tear and maul like the wretched thing he is.

No, his first meal will not be one of viscera and terror and screaming, even as the idea appeals to the baser parts of him. It shall be quiet and quick as a rogue in the night, and though he would expect disappointment from the revelation, he finds that this moment shared privately with himself and only himself is something he intends to treasure.

He has named you for his mark for this most special of occasions. Even as he knows you likely wouldn’t feel honored by such a thing, he feels a quiet sense of pride on your behalf. You are his first taste of true life. A place of high honor in the triumvirate of freedom:

His first glimpse of the sun; his first venture into the world; his first true meal.

Gentle as a lover, he kneels over you, teeth bared, scarlet eyes flashing in the firelight. A calm hand on your shoulder to steady you, the other splayed across the grass to anchor himself. His fingers quake in both eagerness and anxiety, his hearing hypersensitive to every rustle and sigh that does not belong to the chorus of nature in the evening hours. He has committed himself to this, but to be caught is to condemn himself red-handed to the stake– a fate he’d rather avoid.

As he leans, his teeth gliding gently across delicate, slightly dampened skin, he believes it worth the risk.

The tang of sweat and flesh hits his taste buds as he softly glides his tongue across the pulse-point of your throat. He licks where he intends to find his feast, savoring the flavor of his intended prey. Many times he had caught himself staring, wondering what it might be like; what you might be like, and he fully intends to satiate the curiosity that had been building in his brain for weeks on end.

As he indulges himself in the thought, he finds he can no longer wait. He tells himself he cannot stall– cannot draw this out as he might’ve liked to– but the nagging churning in his gut rings above all else. He is starved and he must sate it. He does not join in the argument between the two warring forces in his mind, and instead resorts to pure instinct to settle the matter.

His fangs dimple tender flesh at first, and then, soft as a whisper, sink inside. Lifeblood floods his mouth like a symphony of rapture, the taste of ecstasy on his tongue, and his lips clamp like a viper on your throat, eager and yearning for more. It is as liquid fire as it slides down his throat, your soft whimpering spurring in tandem with the glory that branches through his every quivering limb and sets his mind alight. His eyes, vigilant at first, now flutter shut, allowing himself to fall into the velvet-cloaked abyss.

The thousand-year fog lifts from his brain as he drinks and for the first time since breath still filled his lungs, he feels right.

Raw strength almost seems to inflate his lean muscle, plucking a harpsichord on his tendons. The pounding drum of your rabbiting heart beneath your ribs plays in tandem with the rush of blood in his ears. The deafening cacophony of the cold, miserable years is blasted away and finally stitches together in unison with an ethereal orchestra of utter intoxication. A preternaturally beautiful song that lulls him into the first sense of peace he has felt in years– perhaps that he has ever felt. A tune he shall never forget for as long as he lives.

His senses soar so high that he swears, beneath the deafening chorus of euphoria, he can hear the revelry as far as Baldur’s Gate. In his mind’s eye, the unsuspecting citizens of the Jewel are celebrating the birth of a new man born under the silvery spears of moonlight miles away. These many long years, he has been truly dead, and only now, he is resurrected in the swaddling shroud of blood and dark. He has been truly reborn. At one with himself at last, he thinks. At one with you.

The blood falls easily down his throat, pooling warmly in his gut in glorious fulfillment. The delirium tendrils outward, gently coaxing bliss and promise where it caresses. His legs buckle, pale cheeks hot and flushed, some unknown sensation taking hold like a fist as he suckles and refusing to relinquish the iron grip. The low of his abdomen tingles, drawing in life like a vacuum to a place once desolate and lifeless.

It is a feeling he cannot place at first. Something dusted and forgotten and placed far and away in his mind, out of reach. And yet, as the delectable warmth floods every inch of his body anew, he experiences it as plainly as when his heart still beat in his chest and youth was as inevitable as the rising sun. The needle-thin hairs of his body stand on end, palms beginning to sweat against your shoulder. A primal need swells in his stomach, a gentle throbbing between his thighs that translates into pain as he strains against the leather of his breeches.

Arousal.

Desire bleeds into itself, separate colors swirling together to become one enthralling splash on the rapacious canvas of his brain. The scalding hot bliss of the feed and the tiny, breathy mewls of your still-sleeping form. You have given him what he so desperately coveted, and now, it seems, his nature demands he take more– everything you hold dear in its entirety offered up at the altar of his superior strength and cunning and existence.

The inherent eroticism of feeding is not lost on him, but it has never held any meaning until this moment. Lust is a cruel stranger that he has opted to spurn. Something wielded against him as a weapon– a barbed whip that has flogged and scarred him into conditioned disgust. It is unfamiliar at first, and yet it screams now with the same familiarity as every other function and twice as demanding.

Pale lashes flutter open, doubled vision focusing in almost too sharply on your strained features: the soft furrow of your brow, the scrunch of your still-closed eyes, the soft pout of your petal-pink lips, slick with moisture from your unconscious whines of pain. He has noticed you, yes, in the way another might notice a dagger or a halberd or a stocky shield to wield. Your appearance is just one in a long line of defenses he intended to harvest for his own gain, and yet now, as he hazily stares at the shadow of your profile that flickers in the flames, he feels the unmistakable curl and coil of a different kind of need.

Something steely clamps onto his consciousness beyond the haze of unreason. He cannot. That is too far, and something distant and shrill in his mind knows it. As desperate as he is to crawl atop and mount you, leaving you breathless and hoarse in his wake, he cannot. Some things can never be forgiven, and he has already crossed that line for his own well-being. Ravaging you as you lie vulnerable and helpless– trusting– serves no purpose in keeping him alive.

He tells himself this, his suckling receding to a temperate drawl, laving tongue and teeth across the puncture wounds. The baser parts of him cry protest, the pulsing becoming more insistent with each passing second, until it leaves him knock-kneed and clutching at the grass for purchase against the cresting tide of want. All variety of debased scenarios fly through his mind, each one more debauched than the last.

Control and lust, two things unfamiliar with each other before now due to the cruel nature of his existence, fold in perfectly as one and sharpen into a vengeful blade he craves to use. How he longs to leave a wound as deep as the one he carries day after day, unrelenting and open as the day it was wrought. He wants to lash out, to strike, to take as he pleases as the world has taken so from him–

A wound not meant for you, he must remind himself through the hot-pink haze, even as it defies him.

No. It is a line he will not cross. He is a monster, but he is a monster of a different breed. You have given him everything, even as you do not know it. More pragmatically, he will not give his life for one brief, violent encounter of forcefully obliged desire. He is worth more than such vile things, he tells himself, and strangely, he finds as he ponders it, so too are you.

He repeats it in his head as a mantra, over and over, practically yelling it over the tidal wave of instinctual impulse that threatens to drag him undertow. He is his own man, and he shall not be controlled ever again; not by Cazador, and certainly not by the more wretched pieces of himself, even as they screech and claw at the cell where he has locked them away, howling their dreadful, unspeakable demands.

It does not abate. The insistent pulse of blood that brings long forgotten life to his appetite, the mortifyingly genuine urge that begs him to touch you, feel you, taste you in the ways he has not craved in eons. It frightens him, and yet, even as he longs to pull himself away, to run and run and run into the darkness where neither you nor this horrible need can find him, he does not. He sits still as a marble statue, almost as if carved in some grotesque form of this heinous moment captured in one rotten, eternal exhibit: half atop your sleeping body, clutching and panting in need, and half splayed absurdly in the dirt, straining and desperately trying to conceal his shame from some invisible force that mocks him.

He cannot have you. Even as he yearns and craves it with a fire that singes and burns his overactive nerves and imagination, he cannot. Yet, his body will not relent, demanding release from the torment that plagues both his mind and his nethers in equal form, paralyzing him in a dangerous inactivity. You won’t awaken– he has taken too much and your weakness is apparent– but the others might and he must act. Compromise is a risk he cannot take–

And still he must.

And so, even as he should withdraw and return to the pitiful, empty loneliness of his tent, he does not. Instead, he realigns himself, as quiet and swift as the wind, still half-perched over you, but with a newly freed hand to his disposal for a contemptible purpose. It snakes the length of his torso to the waist of his breeches, his dexterous fingers undoing the laces with desperate speed and agility, his expression equal parts humiliation, shame, and anxious desire. He slides the waistband down enough that his long-neglected cock springs free, his muscles bracing and tensed as his newly blood-warmed flesh is chilled in the cool night air. Pinprick pores betray his discomfort at the crisp evening gale, but the rest of himself is otherwise occupied, consumed by his present task.

One of his sharply tipped fangs worries at the swell of his plush lower lip as he wiggles his pants further down, both internally cursing and praising the newly unlocked spectrum of his vampiric grace that make such conspicuous actions effortless and reticent. Even as he is agile and practiced, each urgent movement feels fluid and natural. Silent as the grave and insignificant against the sounds of nature that envelop their surroundings. He does not fumble or falter, smooth as satin and with steely resolve as his palm finds his shaft and a shiver runs the length of his spine, settling readily in his abdomen.

In his previous encounters, he could put himself into working order, but nothing like this. It was a job– something that must be done, no matter how distasteful or degrading. What he feels now, it’s almost foreign to him; his cock strangely hot and pulsing with a heartbeat of its own. Heavy as sin in his hand and just as demanding, just as cruel in its insistence. Stiff and throbbing, a compass point dogged and unrelenting as it seeks to nestle between your wet, silky thighs and burrow there. It shrieks in his head, unsatisfied and wailing at his refusal to acquiesce.

He ignores it, testing with one brusque stroke with his palm. It twitches, pleasure blooming upward through his gut even at the slightest of contact. Again, he tightens his fingers around his girth, pumping slowly as the sepulcher where he had locked away all dead semblance of lustful craving and fervor comes to life once more. As he thumbs the top, he feels the thin, sticky fluid leak from the tip, betraying his eagerness even as he pretends composure– as much composure as he can pretend in this unbelievably humiliating debacle.

He will have to worry about that later.

His eyes sweep over your face once more, peaceful now that his teeth no longer injure your tender neck. Your lips slightly agape, eyelashes fluttering softly as you sweetly dream once more. He imagines how different it might look if he were to uncage his urges– to allow himself the forbidden pleasure of sinking himself inside of you twice in one night. How your eyes might fly open in horror, your lips ready to shriek, little fists balled in defense, only to gasp as he pushes his length between your splayed thighs, enveloping himself in your tight, wet heat. White-hot. Exquisite. Immaculate.

The companions are gone– no, they don’t exist. It is only you and him now, you sprawled beneath him, half shock and half horror, and he– the predator that has stalked you from the shadows, the vampire in the night– taking as he pleases, as is his right. He feels your velvet walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to the cruel new thickness bullying inside them, squeezing him in the most delicious way. Your mouth is still open in a wordless cry as he plunges his tongue between your teeth, tasting a different part of you now, swallowing the desperate sounds you begin to make.

His cock throbs against the calloused flesh of his palm as he strokes himself, teeth gritting to quiet the noise that bubbles in his throat from the blossoming pleasure that takes root and begins to grow rapidly out of control. The fantasy plays in perfect form in his head, and it almost feels real as he gathers the precum in the crook of his thumb and slicks it over the shaft with firm fingers, pretending it’s your body that wets and grips him.

You would fight and struggle– he knows you would– but you are nothing in the face of his sheer strength and dominance. Pinned by the deceptively strong muscle of his lean body, you have no choice but to follow his lead, thighs forced wider to accommodate his narrow hips, back pressed firmly against the ground by his weight. Your tits, warm and soft beneath the thin fabric of your nightshirt and begging to be squeezed, squashed against him with the frantic rise and fall of your chest.

The squeal his first thrust would rip from you would be heavenly. High-pitched and pathetic, and yet almost drowned out by the equally sweet clench of your body around his. So tight that it almost aches him, unaccustomed to the intrusion and compelled to yield to him, moulding itself to the shape of him inside of you. He slides out slow, almost callous and so terribly casual in his malice, making you feel every inch of him drag against the supple walls of your cunt before slamming in again, vicious in his impact. Your body jumps beneath him from the force, whining into his mouth. Your blunt nails digging into his arms and tearing at his frigid, stone flesh. It is futile– he can barely even feel it, and the slight sting he can is laced with pleasure and the reminder that you are at his mercy now.

He is panting, breath coming in ragged staccato bursts even as it is unnecessary to him. Pure instinct has a hold of him now, his hand working in unfailing rhythm between his thighs as he loses himself in the vision. Your injury weeps ever so slightly, and he cannot help the flick of his tongue along the twin-pocked bitemarks, leaving a thinly shining trail of blood-streaked saliva in his wake. He aches to touch you; to slip the delicate sleeve of your nightwear down and indulge himself in the softness of your body.

He is not so subtle in his mind. He simply tears the garment, ripping it from your body with terrible ease. One hand busies itself with containing yours above your head, squeezing at the wrist to keep you captive even as you thrash, the other luckier still as it gropes and pinches your breast. Warm in his hand, he can feel your pulse skyrocketing in fear or perhaps excitement– whichever suits him most– as he reels back and cants his hips forward again.

His hips slap against your thighs with bruising strength, your body beginning to respond to his in kind. He feels your wetness slick over his cock and lubricate his next few thrusts, heightening his pleasure. You mewl against his tongue, body arching into his, perhaps against your own will, fingers flexing and furling fruitlessly in his grasp. He settles into rhythm, cruel but precise, hips grinding with every punctuating impetus. It takes an absurd amount of mental discipline not to simply take you in furious, animalistic fashion as he longs, but he manages through the impulse, lower body moving in circular rhythm, his pelvic bone stimulating you with each contact.

Your panicked breaths become heaving pants, flittering eyes glazing over and becoming heavy, the muscles that are pulled so tautly in defense waver and eventually flop, accepting your defeat at his hands. Perhaps you are betrayed and hurt and hateful, but you desire him. He is beautiful in the moonlight, pale as a ghost but alive and burning with unhinged need and that same fire kindles between your legs and winds and winds tighter like a top before the spin. He releases your swollen, puffy lips only for his fangs to find your throat and your cry is desperate and howling, your blood sweeter than the finest wine as it touches his tongue.

You cannot formulate words– neither of encouragement nor protest– as he fucks you relentlessly into the ground, helping himself to your body and your blood. Only nasally, frantic cries can make it past your throat, your hands grasping at him, pleading and desperate. He hooks your thigh around his waist, fingers digging into the flesh with bruising strength, and you clamp it there, almost as if clinging to him for purchase as he bucks and snaps, snarling like a beast perched to pounce.

You are helpless and small and defenseless and vulnerable in the face of him, and he is strong and virile and predatory and fearsome. He has no need of your protection; he is the ruthless power of the night and the fear the lurks in the dark. He ravages you with no regard to the future, knowing only that he holds it in his palm, and if he wants you, he shall take you. He does not walk in shadow and skulk in fear, but boldly in the open, the world and you ripe for the plucking.

He cannot help it. His hand is not enough. Ecstasy builds in his apex, building and bubbling at his fantasy, but he needs to feel. The hand not currently stroking himself in frantic need finds a way under the loose opening of your shirt, defying his mental mantra. The curve of your breast coaxes his skin, swelling and warm against his flesh as his insubordinate fingers find their way lower and lower under your blouse. Your nipple peaks as he gently rolls it in his careful, ghostlike fingertips, squeezing at your chest with an inhuman tenderness that only has him craving harder, more–

Your cries would come in unison with his own, yours wailing and pathetic and squealing, and his rugged and husky and snarling. You would bare yourself to him– all of you– acquiescing to his unrelenting power. He would take you there, on the ground like an animal how he pleased and for as long as he pleased. Now you are the clay for him to shape and play with and use as he pleases, existing only for him and his wants. Your blood is in no short supply, and he sups and dines as he pleases while he uses your body to pleasure his cock and the baser parts of himself that have reignited inside of your core. You are powerless to fight him, so you give yourself over completely to him, debasing yourself for him, crawling for him, needing him.

You’d beg for him, body and soul, so eager and ready. Desperate and pathetic. He’d fuck you until your whines became higher and higher, eventually spilling into the night in humiliating urgency as you came undone beneath him. Your legs quivering and shaking, senses gone and inhibition nonexistent. Your fluttering walls would tighten and squeeze and damn near strangle him, the absurd sound of your wetness utterly mortifying if you had your wits about you, but music to his ears.

Harder and faster with no regard for your overstimulated crooning, he’d take you, working himself to his peak, almost rabid in his unhinged, disjointed movements. His rhythm would fail, becoming more convulsive and urgent with every plunge of his hips. He’d chase his end inside of you, the blissful heat of your body, the cadence of your moans, and snug, velveteen swaddling of your sopping cunt the closest taste of the divines he’ll ever have– that he’ll ever want.

He’d cum inside of you, burying himself so deep that he’d be certain you could taste it. It would spill out of you as he milked himself to completion with your pliant body, heaving against your bloody neck, a hand in your hair to rip your head back and drag down against him. Bruised inside and out in the shape of him, his hands, his teeth, his cock all leaving their permanent mark. It won’t heal, it won’t ever heal, he’ll make sure of it–

It’s his– it’s his– it’s all for him and no one else. Not even the Gods could wrestle this away from him. There isn’t a force in the planes that could pry him from atop you– you belong to him, your body, your mind, your tongue, your taste, your cunt–

His cock throbs furiously in his hand, gritted pants and strangled noises escaping his throat. It is only through sheer supernatural ability that he is able to withdraw his hand from your shirt and catch himself before he slumps completely atop you, no doubt waking you with the force of it. The ecstasy spills over, unfettered bliss exploding outward from his core and sparking fire throughout every inch of his body. His eyes roll backward, head slooping forward as he works his pulsing cock, every last ounce of self-control in his ancient body holding back a howling cry.

He spills into his palm, carelessly covering his shaft in the sticky, gossamer fluid as he milks clean the very last remnants of pleasure from himself with the fervor of a man starved of it. His toes curl in his shoes, teeth gritting to the point of pain as he withholds a sigh of euphoria. His extremities tingle as his body sags, muscles exhausted and screaming from the exertion, and he almost collapses as it fades from him as quickly as it approached, still singing beautiful contentment somewhere deep inside of him.

Sagging completely into the dirt, he lies there, bare and open to the sky: Hand defiled and dripping with the seed of his shame, sweat wetting the delicate white curls behind his ears, breeches pulled cleanly to his akimbo knees. It takes a moment for the world to settle into his foggy brain once more, but shame cuts as cleanly as a knife as the clouds of desire split and the light of reality once again illuminates the situation.

Frantic fear takes hold of his stomach, and his head swivels towards where you sleep, calmed only by the fact that you still sleep soundly with no inkling or inclination as to what he has just done. As he glances around, the rest of the camp is equally unaware, each person neatly in their place, unmoving and unalert. His secret is his and no one elses.

He allows himself a few moments to catch the breath he does not need, wiping the evidence of the encounter into the grass with a sense of disgust and indignity as he does. He feels remarkable– alive for the first time in centuries– and yet it is marred by the yoke of scandal he feels having been bested by such an absurd thing. Overwhelming desire he has not felt since he was a young, handsome elf brimming with potential and swarming with suitors, back when his chest still beat with blood and his skin was flushed and warm rather than pale and pallor.

It’s unfamiliar to him, and he bares his teeth at the thought. Sex is something filthy and cursed– and yet it didn’t feel so in the moment. Even now, his fingertips tingle at the thought of your puckered peak gently caressed, the soft sound of your sighs, the vulnerability you show him. He’d barely touched you and yet you sent his senses alight like a bonfire. The taste of you still lingers on his tongue, and he cannot help but savor it. As he hikes the band of his pants back up his hips, he feels shame, yes, but also something different. Something oceans away from the helpless misery he usually feels after the degrading act.

He feels at peace. He feels satisfaction. He feels right. He does not feel debased, but empowered– almost giggly as a schoolboy at the wrongness of it all.

He chose this. For the first time he can remember, he chose this. He took control and his pleasure did not come at his own expense. It came at yours, yes, but he doesn’t like to make a habit of grappling with fragile, banal things such as morality. He is a libertine, and where he finds pleasure, he shall take it, because he knows all too well what it is to be starved of it and all that makes life worth living.

Besides, you seem fine. Sleeping deep as a babe in the cradle, none the wiser. As he sits right and dabs potion at the wounds at your neck so as to not leave a trace of his crime, he allows himself one quiet, satisfied sigh. It disconcerts him that as he studies your slumbering body and slack face, he feels pinpricks in his core once again, whispering remnants of that desire that had unhinged him so before, but he will have to unpack that later.

He is no fool. Something has changed, and it isn’t the strength that flows through him free as a fountain that was once clogged and stunted, nor the heightened attunement of his mind to damn near everything around him to the point of absurdity. He feels right for the first time with the blood he has stolen away with, and smug at getting away with something so risky as he often does, but more than that.

He is a vampire fully satisfied in more ways than one, and the fulfillment and delight he feels overrides the shame and wrestles it into the quiet.

You are something to him, though he isn’t sure what. He had not questioned why he’d picked you before, but the question begs itself now. He does not allow himself the indulgence of touching you once more. He doesn’t taste you or feel your skin. He only withdraws as silently as he came, backing off and away from the light of the fire that burns low, dying embers spitting against charred, ashen logs, his shadow stretching long before disappearing into the dark of the night.

As he moves back to his tent, he stalks the shadows, but he does so with head held high, back straight as a bow, graceful and the very picture of pride. There’s an unmistakable grin on his reddened lips and a flush to his face not wholly attributed to the blood that now courses through him. Pieces of himself unlocked after so many years of servitude. He feels himself again, and the world feels his oyster once more. What your role is in that world, he doesn’t know yet.

But he has a feeling he’ll figure it out soon enough.

#Astarion x Reader #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #But unhinged #See warnings for... warnings #Dark Astarion #At least in his own head #He's conflicted okay?#Are we still doing cringe?#Well I am

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year ago

Text

Threesome hybrid brainrot. CatHybrid! Scaramouche x fem!reader Fox hybrid!Childe x fem!reader. Smut. Yandere!Scaramouche. Possessive and obsessive behavior. Cunilligus. Biting. Degradation.

As promised, here is the third in the series. Best of luck to everyone wishing tomorrow❤️

Your head was resting in Scaramouche's lap. You could tell how irked he was. His eyes were narrowed in a lethal glare at Childe, who was slotted between your legs, his tongue ravenously working over your cunt.

He wanted to shove his fingers into your mouth, hating that you were moaning for that ginger fox shithead instead of him. His cheeks were flushed, his cock hard watching you thrash and squirm in the throes of pleasure, rolling your hips up into Childe's mouth.

Scaramouche knew Kunikuzushi wouldn't be able to handle watching someone else fuck you besides himself and Wanderer, so he had Wanderer take Kunikuzushi out for the day.

He swore Childe actually whimpered when you tugged on his ear, pressing his face further into your cunt. He wasn't going to deny you what you wanted, but he couldn't stand Childe.

Ever since he got here, Scaramouche swore he saw Childe with his cock shoved down your throat at least twice a day, thrusting sloppily into your mouth while he moaned pathetically. He sounded a lot like Kuni.

And he would be damned if Childe was going to get you to himself yet. Even if this was his first time fucking you, Scaramouche wanted to be there. He didn't let Childe so much as touch you until he had marked you up first.

Childe had to know you were his mate first.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes. Childe slurping on your cunt sounded obnoxious. "Control yourself, mongrel," He hissed.

Childe held your cunt against his face, squeezing your hips as his nose nudged over your cunt. His tongue swept inside. His tail flicked, his tongue swirling between your walls in a way that made you see stars. "She tastes so good," His moaned in bliss, his cheeks flushing when you walls clamped around his tongue. "Fuck, she's getting ready cum.."

You were. Crying out, your fingers dug into his scalp, your release gushing onto his tongue. Scaramouche put a hand over your mouth, muffling your cry of Childe's name. "Quiet, slut," He growled.

Sitting up, Childe wiped his mouth, and took Scaramouche's hand off of your mouth so he could kiss you just as sloppily as he had eaten you out. "Let's see if I can make you cum harder, my girlie," He said gleefully, sucking on your tongue as he pulled away.

"Wait your turn, mutt," Scaramouche put a hand on Childe's forehead, pushing him away from you. He glared at Childe when he growled. "Be lucky I even let you lick her cunt first." Lifting your head off of his lap, he crawled on top of you.

The force with which Scaramouche thrust his cock inside of you made you gasp, breathless. You still hadn't come down from your orgasm yet, his cock nudging firm against your sweet spot. Your loud moan bled into a scream of pleasure.

"That's it, let him hear you scream for me, whore," He groaned, roughly thrusting into you every time your walls clamped tight around his cock. You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him, hooking your leg over his hip.

You are his, and you would cry louder for him than anyone else, Scaramouche always made sure of that. "Fuck, this slut is going to cum already," He groaned, his fingers pinching anf pulling on your nipples for extra stimulation, determined to make you cum harder than Childe had.

The way you screamed his name when you squirted on his cock sounded heavenly to him. His claws digging into your skin, Scaramouche shushed you when you whimpered from the dull ache of overstimulation. "Shhh, I'm close to cumming in your whore cunt, don't worry," He cooed taunting, laughing when you begged for it between broken moans and sobs of pleasure.

Your noises were only winding Childe up, his cock throbbing to be buried inside of you as he jacked himself off.

He could barely stop himself from grabbing you, pulling you down the bed to him once Scaramouche fingered his cum back into your cunt. He smacking a hand against your still throbbing clit in praise for taking him so well. The hybrid cat's smirk was so smug.

"Shit, your cunt feels as good as your mouth," Childe's body shuddered in pleasure, slowly pushing his cock inside of you. He started thrusting relentlessly once he bottomed out inside of you.

Childe bit into the other side of your throat, sucking a deep bruise as he slammed his cock inside of you. You are his mate now to, he had to leave his own marks on you.

He whimpered and moaned, muffled into your neck, his tail swishing excited from how tight you were clenching around his cock. Childe he had been aching to cum inside of you since you'd first come to see him at the sanctuary.

And now he finally had you underneath him, enjoying and relishing in your sounds and pleading cries as you clung to him.

Childe couldn't stop thrusting inside of you until his cum painted your walls white. Even better he made you cream on his cock the moment it throbbed his cum inside of you, your eyes half lidded in a haze of fucked out bliss.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #modern au #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche brainrot #childe #tartalgia #childe smut #childe x you #childe x y/n #childe x reader #childe brainrot

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phonydiaries · 1 year ago

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In the Heat of Battle - P x Reader

Requested by @amethyst-huntress

Notes: The premise of this fic was requested by Amethyst-Huntress and I started absolutely foaming at the mouth at the idea, so huge thank-you’s are in order for that nugget of inspiration. Unfortunately, same as last time, I have still barely progressed through the game thanks to my lack of patience and skill, so please forgive that both of my fics take place extremely early in playthrough. Other than that, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!

—

Where is that damn puppet? You think to yourself, teeth gritted at the deadly inconvenience standing in front of you.

In the dark and the rain and the constant buzzing noise of Krat, you admit it's easy to get turned around. Even traveling with a companion -in your case, with Gepetto’s puppet- it’s easy to lose track of which gloomy alleys you’d already traversed. Even standing back to back, nudging each other with your elbows, even checking in every so often,“You still with me?” It was easy to get lost. But now, standing face to face with a candelabra wielding automaton and a rabid mechanical dog, you’re not feeling very generous towards your puppet companion. He’s probably searching for you in a frenzy at this very moment.

Ha.

Fat load of good it does you.

The automaton winds up and its eyes flash red across your face. Target locked. The candelabra comes crashing towards your head, but it's met instantly with the clanging cold steel of your sword. The automaton stumbles backwards. Its head cocks unnaturally to the side and you hear something whir, as if in frustration, beneath its face. It winds up again to strike you, but you’re quick and clever; you land a blow in the dead center of the loathsome thing's torso. A sick crunch of metal echoes as you draw the sword out of the brand new gaping cavity in its chest. The automaton sinks to its knees. You look down your nose at it, satisfied at your own skill. The enemy looks to be shutting down, but in a quick, almost desperate motion, its hand shoots towards your foot, grasping wildly. It's cold fingers close around your ankle, but you quickly stamp it out with your free foot. The automaton lets out a weak mechanical wheeze as its hand is crushed beneath your boot. For good measure, you take the hilt of your sword in both hands and slam the base through the miserable things forehead. It crackles, then collapses finally on the ground. You smile darkly at its now lifeless shell. Perhaps a little early.

A sharp bark cuts through the air and your head snaps to attention. Shit. You forgot about the damn dog. Before you have the chance to raise your sword again, the dog lunges at you. Razor sharp teeth clang dissonantly together and the sound ripples against the glistening walls of the alley. In an instant, you’re knocked to the wet, muddy ground; the iron paws of the mutt are already upon your chest. The mongrel snarls mere centimeters from your face, black oily fluid spilling from its mouth as if salivating. You groan and struggle beneath its weight but regain your grip on your sword just in time to catch its rabid jaw. The dog bites down on your blade, thrashing its head to either side. You strain against its unnatural strength, attempting to pull your weapon free. In one fell swoop you’ll rip it free and decapitate this fucking thing. Your fingers curl tighter around your hilt, you ready a strike, suck in one sharp breath and then-

You freeze.

A second blade appears, glinting in the gaslight, right between your eyes. Thick black fluid goes splattering across your face. The mutt goes limp, its full weight crushing your lower torso. A gasp is pushed from your lungs and you roll to the side, quickly shoving the robotic corpse away from your body. You kneel, palms pushing into the slick ground. Your heart is thundering beneath your shirt as you swallow frigid air hard and fast. When you finally catch a breath, you turn your head towards the owner of the blade; Pinocchio, your companion. He wipes the rapier against his trousers, cleaning the sludge from its razor sharp surface. You huff, blowing matted wet bangs out of your face.

“I had that under control.” You say sharply. P cocks an eyebrow at you, unconvinced. You feel your face burn in annoyance. “I did!” You insist, “Had you given me just one more minute I would’ve been fine. And probably less covered in this.” You jab your weapon in his direction, flecking dark oil across his shirt. He shoots you a slightly apologetic smile.

He knows you can handle yourself, he does. He just worries. You can’t blame him; you do the same thing. You’ve gotten quite close on these arduous journeys, saving each other's skins more times than either of you can count. As you wipe the sludge from your face, P extends his hand to you and begrudgingly you take it. Swiftly, he helps you to your feet. His eyes flicker up and down your face, narrowing on your cheek. He licks the thumb of his legion hand and streaks it across your cheek, lifting the remnants of black. You scrunch your nose up at him.

“Eugh- enough-” You whine, swatting the hand away. “Where did you run off to anyways?”

Pinocchio’s legion arm gestures behind his head. You squint through the darkness at the distant yellow lights of Hotel Krat up ahead. You grimace. It’s further still than you thought. “I don’t suppose you found some kind of underground shortcut?” P shakes his head apologetically. You both sigh, knowing you’ve got plenty of dangers yet to face before you’re given any time to rest. These days spent traveling have taken their toll on your bodies, but you’re at least grateful to have a friend in the gloom of Cerasani Alley. Your sword slides neatly into your belt as you walk ahead of Pinocchio. “Back to it then.”

As the two of you push forward, you notice a concerted effort on your companions' part to stick close to your side. At any strange noise or eerie shadow, P reaches for your hand. You squeeze back in reassurance that all is well. A bit unnecessary? Sure. But you don’t fight it. It’s much preferred to losing the poor boy again.

Drawing closer to your destination with only a few minor scuffles to slow you down, you reach a dilapidated fairgrounds. Sickly yellow light bulbs buzz overhead and cast an ominous glow across the entire scene. A ghostly music box melody plinks and permeates the air. You look to P quizzically.

“You’re sure this is the right way?”

P takes in his surroundings and gives you a curt nod. You grimace in reply. This decrepit place gives you the creeps.

Together you silently weave through wooden cutouts of circus performers, checking carefully for hidden enemies. It's suspiciously quiet, save for the phantasmal carnival music that grows louder as you approach an iron gate. Another barrier. Excellent.

“P?” You step aside and gesture to the locked gate. Pinocchio smiles slyly at you, boyishly pleased that there’s still a few things you can’t do without him. You want to roll your eyes, but you watch reluctantly impressed, as deep violet energy crackles around his fist. In one swift swing, he punches through the gate and leaves a smoking crater where the lock once sat. He shoots you a sharp smile, satisfied with himself.

And then you feel something. A great mechanical thud rippling beneath your feet. Your heads snap in unison towards the source and your eyes go wide at the sight of the staggering monster in front of you. At least 3 times your size looms the Parade Master, constructed of decaying parts and craquelured paint. Its massive fist alone is as wide as your body, and sways heavily at its side.

You unsheathe your blade, and its weight sinks your shoulders. It's not ideal for speed you admit, but the vindication after landing those obliterating killing blows to your enemies is unbeatable. Keeping your eyes locked on target, you whistle to catch Pinocchio’s attention. You started doing this early on. Whistles were a good line of nonverbal communication when you couldn’t afford a glance in each other's direction.

“Flank him?” You suggest. Pinocchio whistles quick and sharp in agreement. Your fingers tighten around the great sword and your chest thrums with anticipation. You jut your chin in the direction of your common enemy. “After you.”

Without looking, you know his brows are furrowed together in deep focus. You can perfectly visualize the way he lures the puppet away, his steps meticulously timed and graceful. As you wind your way behind the thing, you hear the clang of P’s rapier against tarnished metal. Your enemy rears its arm back, and you follow suit striking its vulnerable back with a satisfying SHUK! You yank the blade out of its now damaged shell and catch the briefest glance at your companion and oh. Oh. The way he looks at you.

With fascination?

Admiration?

It’s something greater, deeper than that. Your heart skips. But you shake yourself out of distraction, startled at the sound of your own voice calling out. Your lips move before your mind has time to catch up.

“MOVE!”

Exactly as you shout it, P dodges a strike from the Parade Master. The brute’s fist lands in the brick pavement, blowing a hole through it instantaneously. You gulp at the thought of your companion lying there instead, crushed. Your skin goes cold.

No. Never.

Knowing neither of you can afford another lapse in attention, you suck in one long loud whistle between your teeth. The Parade Master whips itself around to face you. Two huge lamp-like eyes glow sickly in your direction. This was intentional. You can distract for now and give your ally a moment to catch his breath. You ready both hands on your weapon and take a step back. The monster lurches forward, its steps accompanied by a horrid clanking sound.

“Get over here you fucking rust bucket…” You mutter grimly under your breath as the space between you and the looming threat of death shrinks. You breathe deeply and steel yourself, heels digging into stone. You watch carefully as the puppet rushes towards you, arms swinging wildly. Just when the behemoth is about to crush you beneath its huge frame, you duck between its legs and emerge from behind. There’s just enough time to land a solid blow. P’s rapier crosses with your greatsword, both your weapons plunging into the deteriorated creatures back.

“This one’s mine, P.” You snap, pulling your blade from its fresh wound.

“Mine.” P parrots with a smirk, retrieving his rapier as well. Being a man of so few words, you can't help feeling amused even given the circumstances. This is good. The beast is growing weaker. If you can both keep level heads this will all be over soon, you think to yourself.

At least until your enemy decapitates itself.

Your jaw drops as the Parade Master rips its own head from its massive shoulders. It wields its shiny new weapon like an enormous mace and swings it your way. It makes contact with the ground, and the impact alone is enough to shake your balance. You dive to the side, narrowly avoiding collision with the wall. You struggle to recalibrate, to size up the situation while keeping yourself out of the range of attack. You hear P whistle pointedly across the arena, waiting on your instruction. Your mind races for a plan and comes up blank.

“Hold on!” You shout, “Just- Just hold on, I’ll think of something.” You’ll have to if you want to leave this place in one piece. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. All you can think to do is attack. And you do; your blade leaves white hot gash marks on the enemy, but it hardly seems to be enough against such a terrible and towering foe. You’ve angered it now, and it’s in a total frenzy. The Parade Master swings its massive head in your direction again and you raise your sword to block it. Half a second too late.

As your weapons collide, the impact sends you to the ground. You gasp at the sharp pain that shoots through your skull. There’s a ringing in your ears and a soft dark edge to your vision. You struggle against unconsciousness and fight to keep yourself upright. Things are moving slow; trails of light obscure the events unfolding in front of you.

You comprehend something catching the Parade Masters' attention, you watch the goliath wind up, you hear something cry out, and then hear nothing at all. A sick feeling churns in the pit of your stomach and bile rises in your throat. Something’s wrong. You search the scene frantically for your ally. Your line of sight flickers from the Parade Masters head to the ground slick with rain. Your throat tightens. With his face turned to the ground, his eyes fighting to stay open, lies Pinocchio. His rapier skitters across the stone, coming to a sudden halt beneath the foot of the Parade Master.

Something flashes through you, anger, grief, adrenaline; whatever it is, it propels you forward. Your weapon is suddenly weightless as you skid between the monstrous puppet and your companion. The head of the Parade Master collides with your sword and the sound echoes through the arena with an arresting ring. You breathe hard in disbelief of your own courage. Your teeth are bared and your furrowed brow is sticky with sweat.

“Don’t. Touch him.” You command, and you swear even your mindless enemy hears it. A deep guttural sound is forced from the very bottom of your lungs as you thrust your weapon through the center of the automaton's body. It doesn’t die, but you hear something inside it break, and the creature slows significantly as if becoming too heavy for its own armature.

You risk a glance over your shoulder. P looks like absolute hell, covered in grime, barely staggering to his feet. Your chest tightens at his condition, but he’s alive.

Alive. It’s enough.

The enemy screams in frustration, rippling orange flames and black smoke billow from the place its head once sat. You stare at the hilt of your great sword, still lodged in its heart.

“P, your sword-” You start, but your ally is already on it, your strategic minds miraculously attuned. He sends the rapier sailing -now free of the parade masters foot- towards your open hand. It whips past your head and slides perfectly into your grasp. With what's left of the enemy in your sights, you take a running start.

Time seems to slow; the taste of victory teases you. Your head is about to collide with the hulking hunk of metal just as you raise your boot and dig its heel into the hilt of your great sword. Its placement serves as a stepping stone, and you scale the furious beast. You clamber up its torso towards its shoulders and feel heat radiating from the inside. It burns your hands, which grip the edge of the cavernous socket of its missing head. The monster thrashes beneath you like a wild bull, desperate to throw you off. You tighten your grip, the white hot metal searing your palm. You force yourself to ignore the pain as you raise the rapier and plunge one final devastating blow into the blazing cavity. You feel the rapier obliterate whatever mechanism kept the Parade Master alive, and it crumbles finally beneath you.

Atop the shoulders of your freshly slaughtered enemy, you fall forward with a deafening CRASH. Your body tumbles to the ground. Your grip on the rapier goes slack. Exhaustion ripples through you, and you surrender to its sweet embrace.

You hadn’t even realized you’d lost consciousness until your eyes flutter open, met by the stunning blue gaze of your companion mere inches from your face. For a moment you forget yourself, the urge to sink into his arms is so tempting. But your pride wins out and you scramble into an upright position, barely awake. Pinocchio lets out a sigh of relief and you see his shoulders relax. Had he been just as terrified as you were at the prospect of losing him? Did that same dread sit in the pit of his stomach?

Your head swims with what-ifs, but you have no energy to find their answers. With strength that you’re shocked to still possess, you throw your arms around the puppet. Your fingers clutch the wet fabric of his shirt as if he might disappear the moment you let go. His body tenses at first, then melts under your touch. You feel his head settle between your neck and shoulder, solid and secure. Silently breathing in the smell of him feels like waves of relief crashing over your head.

You wish the journey could end here in the peace and quiet of this embrace, but you feel him begin to pull away and your heart sinks. Face to face with you, his eyes search for signs of damage, for something to mend. His hands find yours and you hiss involuntarily. His eyebrows knit together in concern. You try not to grimace.

“It’s nothing.” you promise, “Burned my hand, that's all.”

P looks down at your hand and cradles it gently in his own. With painstaking care, he lifts it to his mouth and places a feather-light kiss in your palm, then on each of your scraped and bleeding knuckles. He looks up at you through those thick raven-wing lashes and you notice a trace of your blood left on his lips. The sight makes your head swim and it takes the entirety of your willpower not to catch his mouth with yours. Your posture stiffens as you try to regain your composure.

“Well it’s not far now, is it?” You ask, deflecting back to the mission at hand. “There will be plenty of time to patch each other up at the hotel. Right?” You offer, already stupidly aching for the return of Pinocchio’s delicate touch. He blinks a few times, as if he were struggling to focus himself. But he nods enthusiastically. You feel a smile creep across your lips.

As you leave the destroyed fairgrounds behind, you let your good hand slip into that of your companion. The two of you venture forth, certain to never lose track of the other again.

—

If you read this and enjoy it please let me know! Seeing your positive comments and tags absolutely warms my heart and motivates me to keep writing. Thank you so much to those of you who took the time to leave me some kind words on my last fic <3

#this was so fucking fun to write #lies of p #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #hurt/comfort #lop #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p fanfic #pinocchio x you #lies of p x reader #my writing

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alnilaem · 8 months ago

Note

Thinking guard dog!Simon who is listening to you fill him in on your day.

“Oh, and I heard terrible news! My colleague’s husband was attacked on his way home from work, outside that corner shop down the road.”

He was half listening really, mumbling agreement until you said, “You know, I’d really love somebody to beat the shit out of the mongrel that did that. See how much they like it!”

Simon’s titling his head. “You would, would you?”

So when your colleague’s husband gets a call from police, his wallet was found on the badly beaten and disfigured man that’d turned up on the steps of the police station like a dead bird- you’re so happy to don’t even think.

Don’t even think about Simon coming home late with split knuckles, he’d gotten into bed and you’d paid it no mind. Didn’t even register when he’d asked “what’d you think?” when you relayed your colleague’s good news.

Left on the steps like a dead bird.

Simon dragging him up the steps like a guard dog.

Like “what’d you think?”

Like “are you proud?”

he is such a loyal dog it actually makes me sweat

like… his hackles are raised around new people until Trouble says, “it’s okay Simon, they’re a friend,” but even then his jowls are still slightly bared. he’d never like….. bring the body back obviously lmao but he proposes the news like a mutt dropping a dead rat on their owners porch. keen for praise, and all that. waiting for you to lick/nurse his paws (split knuckles) clean

#orions talks

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thechaoticdruid · 10 months ago

Text

This Bites (5)

Astarion x Chubby! F! MC

Plot: Astarion gets Winnie out a tight spot with a new power of his! Our two lovers continue to bond and get closer as Winnie searches for the cause of her vampire's appearance in the modern world. They also go shopping! YAY!

Content/Warning: Dog attack, Sexual humor and suggestive content, tooth rotting fluff, night terrors?, Astarion being soft, mention of dead animals, Brian being an asshole as usual..

Chapter 4: Back here

Chapter 5: Hold still.

Chapter 6: Shit.

Winnie looked out the window, eyes wide as she saw Brian and Vanessa outside. Nessa was holding Ollie tightly to her chest as the little dog growled. The three of them were standing their ground as the same beastly dog from before approached. It was snarling with its lips lifted upwards to expose its sharp teeth, drool dripping from its jaws and onto the rope around its neck.

“Astarion, go to my room and hide in my closet I'll, I'll think of something.” Winnie stated.

“You want me to just let you go out there with that deranged beast!? Are you insane! That mutt will gnaw your leg off!” The vampire spawn snapped.

“We don't have time to argue! Go hide!” Winnie huffed before grabbing a broom off the nearby wall. The dog was huge and appeared to be a mix between a mastiff and Pitbull. Brian stood in front of Vanessa, shielding her from the dog as he shouted at it, trying to scare it off. Astarion gritted his teeth. He didn't want Winnie to get hurt but following her out into the sun was a horrible idea. There definitely wasn't any way he could protect her as a pile of ashes. But he had to do something! That dog had a vicious look in its eyes, lunging with an intent to kill. Brian was able to kick it in the face and make it back up momentarily, but the beast was not backing down.

Panic flooded over the elven vampire’s mind as he was frantically trying to think of what to do, if he had still been alive his heart would be pounding! Then suddenly he felt odd…. There was this poof and everything around him got bigger. No, he was smaller. His hands were replaced by these white little bat wings…

What in the hells!?

Unfortunately, there wasn't enough for Astarion to ponder his new form as Winnie had opened the door, holding the broom close to her as she prepared to try and help her family. Without thinking the small bat leapt up and grabbed onto the back of her shirt with his little claws, crawling under the back of her hoodie to protect him from the sun. Winnie didn't even notice him, too focused on the scene in front of her. Her mother was safely locked in the car, away from the dog while Brian was doing his damndest to try and scare it away. It was safe to say that the canine was not the least bit intimidated as it snarled, slobber dripping from its jowls.

Winnie soon rushed over, using the broom to separate herself from the aggressive mongrel. The dog lunged forward, biting into the broom with a bite so strong it threatened to break the wood. Winnie let out a startled squeak at the sight of the dog’s teeth.

“The fuck are you doing, Winnie!? You're making it worse!” Brian shouted. Though his voice didn't even register to Winnie as she was much too terrified of the dog to give a damn about what he said. The dog’s teeth clashed against the broom before it pulled back preparing for another attack when it noticed something peek out of the brunette-haired female’s hoodie. Keeping the hoodie over his head to shield him from the sun, Astarion peaked out at the dog with a tiny glare.

The dog blinked in confusion before getting a whiff of Astarion's familiar undead scent and letting out a whine, tail dropping between its legs as it let out a bark.

“Smells wrong!” Astarion could hear the dog speak while in his new animal form. The dog suddenly turned and ran off, whimpering along the way. Winnie blinked in utter bewilderment.

He just….Left? What the fuck was that about?

“Oh, thank goodness. Winnie scared it away!” Vanessa let out a sigh of relief.

“I had it completely under control.” Brian huffed as Winnie’s mother suddenly opened the car door and got out.

“Oh my God, that was close. Brian, we need to call animal control! That dog is dangerous!” She exclaimed, stepping out of the car.

“It would probably be better if I shot that damn mutt.” Brian muttered.

“Brian!” His wife crossed her arms.

“Alright, alright woman! I'm getting my phone!” The brunette haired man huffed.

“Uh…. It might be best to go inside…? In case the dog comes back I mean.” Winnie suggested.

“I ain't afraid of no fucking dog…” Brian muttered under his breath as he fumbled with his cellphone.

“You're right, Winnie. Come on Nessa, let's go inside.” Winnie’s mother said before leading the young girl inside. Winnie quickly followed after them and moved ahead of them, hoping Astarion had gone and hid. The plump female was completely unaware Astarion had changed his form and hitched a ride inside her hoodie. The tiny white bat stayed completely still as his tiny claws stayed hooked into the back of her shirt.

“Winnie! Winnie! Can I play the new video game you got?” Vanessa asked, setting the dog down on the floor. Her eyes grew round as she looked up at the young woman pleadingly.

“Ah no kid, it's for adults. And I don't want your dad to get mad at me if you see something…inappropriate.” Winnie coughed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Ugh! It's not fair! I'm almost thirteen and this boy from my class is playing it!” Nessa huffed and crossed her arms.

“No means no. Goodness' sake, you're too young to play adult games.” Winnie replied sternly.

“And you're too old to watch cartoons but you still do it!” Vanessa sassed before storming off to her bedroom. Winnie rolled her eyes, muttering ‘brat’ under her breath. She turned to head back to her bedroom, but unfortunately Brian had come back inside and had her in his sights.

“The hell did you say to my kid!?” He snapped, getting really close to Winnie's face, his nasty tar smelling breath hitting her like a brick.

“I just told her she can't play my new game because it's for adults.” Winnie huffed, eyes glancing back over to her room as she flinched away from him.

“I saw her run to her room! You better tell the truth right now!” Brian raised his voice.

“Brian! Calm down! Winnie is telling the truth, I saw everything.” Winnie’s mother suddenly stepped in and stood between her husband and daughter. Brian muttered under his breath.

“Catherine, the girl is dangerously close to becoming a delinquent! I've seen those vile games she plays! They're not right!” Brian barked.

“You’re being dramatic. Winnie would never hurt a fly. Look, we've all just had a scare outside so why don't we calm down, go to our rooms and try to relax?” Catherine said before pulling Brian along. The middle-aged sack of piss continued to mutter under his breath, but inevitably gave in and followed his wife to the bedroom. Winnie sighed in relief before quickly rushing to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

“Astarion?” She suddenly whispered out and looked around her room. “Astarion?” She called again before slowly stepping towards the closet, only to freeze as she felt tiny claws climbing up and down her back.

“What the hell is on me!?” She panicked, shivering in disgust before suddenly throwing her jacket off and onto the ground. Winnie looked in the mirror and checked herself but found nothing.

Brown eyes glanced down at her purple hoodie before noticing a little fuzzy white head poke out from underneath her coat. A little albino bat crawled out and looked up at Winnie with round red eyes. It immediately began to let out panicked sounding little squeak-like chirps and scurry towards Winnie. She backed up a bit in utter confusion.

" A bat? How did I get a bat in my jacket?” Winnie asked aloud. The bat continued to squeak at her as if trying to speak. He didn't try to flee or fly away which was very unusual.

Then suddenly Maddie poked her head out from under the bed, slowly creeping towards the small animal. The bat turned to look over as the black cat prowled towards him, pupils enlarged and tail swatting back and forth as she prepared to pounce. The bat let out a frightened squeak before attempting to crawl away as Maddie galloped towards him, pinning him down with her paw.

“Maddie no!” Winnie said trying to get her cat's attention, but the feline didn't acknowledge her.

She looked ready to bite down on the little creature until she got a whiff of his scent. Maddie sniffed him curiously before ultimately removing her paw from his little body.

“Mew!” The cat began to purr before rubbing her face over the tiny bat. All the while Winnie was slowly trying to comprehend what was happening.

An albino bat that Maddie seems to recognize as a friend?

Winnie had a gnawing suspicion, but it was so ludacris that she didn't know whether or not to trust it. Eventually the young woman knelt down on the ground and held out her hand.

“Astarion…?” She spoke up. The small bat immediately turned his attention to her before crawling over to sit on her hand and squeak.

“This feels utterly insane…. but could you nod if it's you?” She asked. The little bat immediately nodded in response.

“How is this even possible? Spawn aren't supposed to be able to transform into bats.” Winnie sat down on the armchair, holding Astarion in her hands. He squeaked a few times as if trying to speak to her. “Star, I don't understand whatever you're trying to say…. All I hear are squeaks on my end…”

Astarion’s ears dropped before Winnie scratched his head with a single finger. “You are very cute like this though.” The brunette-haired woman smiled. “This could actually come in handy, but it would probably be best if you figure out how to change back…. Preferably when I'm not holding you of course.” Winnie stated before setting the small bat down on the bed.

Astarion made a few little bat noises as he appeared to shake and strain a little in an attempt to turn back. When he changed before he was in a panic, so he wasn't sure exactly what he did that caused his transformation. Was it the fear of something happening to Winnie? No, that didn't seem right.

Winnie sat on the bed beside him as she pondered exactly how this was possible. In the game he was only able to take the form of a bat if he ascended. And everything she'd seen indicated that Astarion was a spawn. Hell, he was even soft on her like he was with Tav in his spawn romance route. Could being in her world really give him new abilities? Winnie held her chin in thought before a theory formed in her mind. Astarion said that he fell in love with her over and over, and that he'd been reliving the games storyline repeatedly. That would mean that he's basically been experiencing all her save games .... maybe .... But Winnie never went through a playthrough where she ascended him…except oh….

There was this one time she saved before checking out the ascension route and it might have autosaved. Winnie was eventually broken out of her thoughts by a flash of red around the tiny bat before suddenly he grew back into his normal vampire elf form.

“Gods below.” Astarion let out a sigh of relief. “I am certainly not accustomed to being so small and hairy….eugh…It felt unnatural.” Astarion shivered.

“Oh, you figured it out! That's great.” Winnie smiled before looking over Astarion as he took a moment to compose himself.

“This world of yours seems to get more interesting by the day. Although I'm not entirely sure what use this new form would have. Well other than allowing me to seek shelter from the sun from under your coat.” Astarion hummed.

“Bats can fly! It would probably be very useful if you needed to get somewhere quickly at night.” Winnie stated. “And the smaller you are, the easier it is to hide.”

“Perhaps there may be some use to this form then.” Astarion smirked a couple ideas of sneaking around the house to torment Brian began to cook in his mind.

“I'm still a tad concerned about how this happened…. It worries me a bit.”

“What's to worry about? Obviously, my presence in this realm has opened up some wonderful possibilities.” Astarion chuckled with a smirk.

“I don't know how to feel about this…” Winnie looked off to the side. “Astarion, I should probably tell you about something I've been looking into. I've been quiet about it because I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but I've been trying to figure out what caused you to be well…Here…But I'm not trying to send you back! I promise!” Winnie stated.

“Well, I do appreciate you telling me this. Although I'm not entirely sure why it's a concern of yours if you're not trying to send me back.”

“Something caused it and I want to know why and if it's dangerous. Things like this just don't normally happen here. This isn't a magical place like the one you're used to.” Winnie sighed.

“There you go worrying again. My poor paranoid darling. You know we should probably work on finding ways to relieve your stress.” Astarion grinned.

“Astarion.” Winnie pouted with an annoyed expression.

“What? I was just going to suggest a massage, perhaps a hot bath. Hells bellow, not everything I say is about sex, you naughty thing.~” Astarion crossed his arms but looked at Winnie with a mischievous grin.

Winnie blushed darkly before rolling her eyes.

“We're getting off topic. The point is whatever caused this was not normal for my world and I want to know if it will affect us. That's why I've been trying to get to the bottom of it.” Winnie huffed before falling back on the bed.

“And what have you found?” Astarion, asked as he loomed over her.

“Not much. I found the alias of someone who might be involved, but I'm having trouble finding more information about them.”

“I know little to nothing about this portal device thing, but I'm willing to help well…somehow…” Astarion hummed and looked over Winnie with a sweet gaze.

“Thank you. Though I'm not sure what would help.” Winnie hummed and stared up at the ceiling in thought while Astarion watched her, eventually laying down beside her.

“Perhaps you could ask someone else for help? Someone from here.” The vampiric elf suggested.

“That would be a good idea, only I don't want to risk exposing you or looking like a complete lunatic…No one is going to believe that a fictional character came out of my computer….Ugh…” Winnie huffed before suddenly her cell phone went off in her pocket. She got a message from Becca asking if Winnie could cover her shift tonight since Becca had to babysit for her mother.

Wait….Becca mods her games all the time. Maybe she'd know who ShadowMommy69 was at least…Or something about them anyway.

It wasn't a very strong lead, but at least it was something. Winnie probably wouldn't be able to actually talk to Becca in person until this weekend, but maybe she could figure something out. She needed to take Astarion to get some clothes soon anyway and stopping by to talk to Becca on the way wouldn't hurt.

Winnie glanced over to see Astarion looking at her, eyes soft as his mouth stretched into an odd Grinch-like grin. “Eh…What's up with your face?” Winnie asked. Astarion blinked, broken out of his little dreamy daze.

“Uh what? Is there something on my face!? Did I get a scratch while turned into that winged rodent!?” Astarion sat up, beginning to freak out and feel over his face.

“No, no, Astarion calm down. Nothing's wrong with your face, honey.” Winnie sat up and cupped his cheeks. His ears turned slightly pink at her pet-name. “It's just as pretty as always…” Winnie said, looking to the side with a blush. “You just made a funny face is all.”

“Oh…” Astarion calmed down, placing his hand over one of hers. His chest felt tight as he stared at her soft round face. He wanted to kiss her so badly. Winnie moved a stray curl out of his face before pulling her hands back and looking off to the side with a nervous cough. Her heart was racing.

“Ah…So uh…We could continue watching a movie in here ... .I locked the door so no one should be able to barge right in and see you.” Winnie said as she twiddled her thumbs.

“That sounds wonderful, love.”

~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A few days passed. Winnie filled in for Becca and had to deal with the usual, stocking shelves, cleaning and occasionally dealing with a Karen or two. When she was home she had to stay on her toes to make sure that neither Brian or Vanessa ended up walking in to see Astarion, luckily his new little form came in handy. He was able to quickly change and hide under the blanket or in Winnie’s pocket. He also may have begun using this form to sneak around the house when Winnie wasn't home and secretly torment Brian. Because if he wasn't allowed to kill the bastard he'd at least make sure his life was a living hell. He'd toss random spices or sometimes even dirt or garbage into the man’s coffee. He also tossed Brian's phone onto the floor, allowing Ollie to get it and chew on it. The pale elf certainly kept himself entertained while his beloved was away, but Winnie of course always had something that would stick it's ugly head around the corner to terrorize her.

“Where is everyone?” Winnie looked around, finding herself lost in the woods. She couldn't remember how she got here or what happened last. It was cold and dark. And something was very, very wrong. There was this sharp panic shooting throughout her body. She took a few steps through the forest before stepping on something. A human skull. Winnie looked around her seeing scattered bones all over the ground. His breath quickened and she felt purr dread wash over her as this peculiar eerie noise filled her ears. It was almost like a mixture between scraping chalkboards and some really high off key piano being played super fast. She held her head at the noise, eyes glancing around for an escape route from the forest before suddenly it went silent and there was this shadowy figure staring back at her. She quickly turned to run, but her feet seemed to take her nowhere. Trees kept passing and passing but the figure was still the same distance away and if anything was getting closer. Winnie opened her mouth and let out a silent scream as the shadow suddenly lunged at her, quick as lightning.

“Oh God…” Winnie gasped as she shot up from her bed, panting as a bead of sweat dripped down her brow.

“Darling?” Astarion’s voice suddenly brought her out of her terrified state as she looked over to see him sitting criss-crossed on the armchair with Maddie curled up in his lap. He looked at her with worried eyes and a soft frown. “Are you alright?”

“Mew…” Maddie suddenly piped up, eyes opening as she looked over at Winnie before hopping out of the elf's lap and stretching.

Winnie was still panting a little, heart pounding as Astarion got up and took a seat on the side of the bed.

“My love?” Astarion placed his cool hand over one of Winnie’s. Winnie took a deep breath and tried to slow her breathing.

“Sorry I just had a bad dream…. Something was chasing me and I couldn't get away.” Winnie said, taking a few more calming deep breaths. “I-I’m sorry if I disturbed you…You should probably get back to your meditations.” Winnie turned to face away from him. Despite her trying to brush it off Astarion could feel her heart pounding in fear. He bit his lip as an idea came to mind.

“Would you like me to lie with you?” The vampiric elf asked softly. Winnie looked back at him curiously, a blush forming on her cheeks.

“If you want to…” Winnie stated before shifting and scooting over closer to the wall. Astarion wasted no time getting in and under the covers next to the human female. Winnie stared over at the pale elf as she laid on her side. Astarion looked back with a soft smile forming as he tucked some hair behind her ear.

“I'm here. I'm not going to let anything hurt you.” He said softly as he ran a thumb over her cheek.

Winnie smiled a bit, eventually allowing herself to move a little closer to him, shifting around to get comfortable. Astarion snuggles up against Winnie, wrapping his arms around her as she shyly lays her head against his chest. It's completely silent but there's somehow something comforting about it. Winnie nuzzled her face into the cool skin of his neck before closing her eyes.

They stayed like this up until morning. By then Astarion was curled up around her rather possessively, even had one of his legs hooked around her hip. Winnie could feel his hand gently rubbing along her back, cheek resting upon the side of her head as he snuggled against her soft cushy form. Winnie’s face was still nuzzled into the crook of his neck, nose gently pressed against his faded bite scars. His body felt firm, not as cushy and comfortable as her own, but she didn't seem too bothered by it. Astarion wasn't even trancing anymore, his elven nature only required him to need four hours of rest. He was simply blissfully soaking up Winnie’s warmth, eyes half lidded as he hugged her against him.

Winnie eventually let out a yawn as her eyes slowly blinked open. She pulled back from Astarion's neck just enough to see his face.

“Good morning, beautiful.~” He purred at her softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Morning…” Winnie yawned out before attempting to sit up, but Astarion still had his arms wrapped around her. “Astarion, it's time for me to get up.”

“Just stay with me a little longer. You're so soft and warm.~” The vampire cooed, nuzzling his face into her chest and making Winnie turn deep red.

“Brian’s probably going to get up and tell me to do some chores or something…Star…” Winnie huffed.

“I'll gut him if tries to take you from me.” Astarion murmured, face buried in Winnie's plump bosoms.

“I do believe you'd have to let go of me first to do that silly.” Winnie hummed, absentmindedly playing with Astarion's ivory curls. “Come on, I need to get up.” Winnie stated before pulling herself out of his arms. Astarion let out a displeased sound as Winnie sat up in the bed. The pale elf begrudgingly sat up and looked back at Winnie and pouted with round puppy dog-like eyes. The messy haired female took a moment to stretch out before looking back at the pouting elf.

“Uh…Thanks again for this…I'm honestly surprised you'd want to comfort me over it…..Kinda seems childish needing someone to crawl in bed with me because I had a nightmare.….”

“Darling…Of course I'd comfort you…I know better than most how terrifying your own mind can be.” Astarion cupped Winnie’s cheek looking at her lovingly. “And…I love you…”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Winnie asked with a sad smile. Her voice is melancholy and full of doubt.

“Because you're you. You've went out of your way to help me without gaining anything from it and that's how I know you're the same person I fell in love with over and over.” Astarion said, slowly leaning in a little. Winnie smiled with a deep blush. She was honestly rather speechless and a little skeptical, wondering if she was actually dreaming at the moment. If she was, she didn't want to be woken. The brunette haired female found herself leaning in as well, their noses now just barely brushing against one another. Astarion puckered his lips, moving in to kiss Winnie.

“Hey Winnie!~” Footsteps were heard followed by her door knob turning.

“Shit!” The brunette haired woman’s eyes widened. Just as the door bursts open Winnie quickly shoves Astarion off the bed and behind her dresser before zooming over to the door, making sure most of her room was blocked from sight.

Nessa stood outside the room seemingly dressed and ready to head out somewhere. The twelve year old stood at about a little over four feet with long sandy blonde hair and brown eyes.

“What is it, Ness?” Winnie asked, looking down at the young girl as she messed with a few strands of her messy brown locks.

“Dad said that you're supposed to take me out walking today since I'm gonna take Ollie for a walk.” Vanessa stated.

“Ugh….Why can't he take you?” Winnie huffed in annoyance.

“Because he wants to take a nap and watch his superhero show.” Vanessa explained, “Come one, you can even bring Maddie.”

“I’m pretty sure your dad said you couldn't be around Maddie?” Winnie hummed.

“We don't have to tell him.” Vanessa said mischievously.

“Heh, okay. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and get Maddie ready.” Winnie said, gesturing to her clothes. She was still dressed in the red boxers and black tank she always slept in.

“Okay! But hurry please!” Vanessa said before Winnie quickly closed the door. Winnie turned and looked back at Astarion who was sitting on the floor rubbing his head with a glare on his face.

“You didn't have to push me.” He grumbled, quietly.

“I'm sorry…I panicked…” Winnie moved over to look at his head with concern. She didn't see any wrong, not even a red spot.

“So…You're going out? Off on a leisurely stroll with your little sister, hm?”

“Stepsister and yeah…I'd rather not put up with her running off to Brian right now.” Winnie looked off to the side.

“I suppose I'll just remain here and nurse my poor head and wrist you so cruelly injured.”Astarion said dramatically, gripping his right hand with a sad pitiful pout.

“I said I was sorry and I really am.” Winnie looked back at him with a pout, grabbing his hand glancing over his wrist before kissing it. Astarion couldn't help but smile almost immediately at the sweet gesture. The softness of her lips pressing against his hand made his ears turn a little pink.

“Mm, I quite like that actually.~ Oh alright, I forgive you.” He said in a sweet tone before ruffling her hair. “Now go on, it's probably not a good idea to keep the girl waiting.”

Winnie nodded before grabbing some clothes from her closet and heading into the bathroom to change. Astarion sat on the bed as Maddie crawled out from under it and turned to him with a small meow, as if to say hello. The vampire just hummed as scratched the cat on her little head, eliciting a soft purr as her tail slowly flicked about.

Winnie exited the bathroom, dressed in a black and white t-shirt with a skull and some torn skinny jeans that hugged her thick thighs rather tightly. Astarion lounged about on the bed, red eyes admiring the voluptuous female’s legs and backside as she bent over to pick up her shoes off the ground before getting some socks and continued to get ready. Once she was fully dressed she grabbed a backpack before getting the cat harness and hooking it onto Maddie, who purred happily at the attention. Winnie hooked a leash onto the harness before leading the cat out the door, leaving Astarion to his own devices.

Astarion let out a sigh, a little regretful he didn't just change into bat form and go with her, but he had something he wanted to do. He waited for Winnie to leave the house before sulking about the single story, three bedroom home. Winnie’s mother had long gone off to work, while Brian slept lazily on the recliner in their bedroom. Astarion crept onto the room, grinning sadistically. He slowly made his way over to the sleeping man before reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. Astarion's brows knit together as he raised his hand high over the sleeping human, preparing to do his worst.

He then uncapped the marker in his hand and drew a well detailed sketch of a penis on the unpleasant man’s forehead. The vampire bit his lip suppressing a giggle before stopping to admire his masterpiece. He then proceeded to glance around the room, noticing some thumbtacks on a nearby dresser. He grinned ear to pointy ear before grabbing hold of them and placing them into Brian's shoes. He then casually strolled out of the room before returning back to Winnie’s room.

“GODDAMNIT!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!” Brian’s voice was suddenly heard.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•

Winnie walked along the sidewalk as Maddie padded behind her on a leash, inquisitive blue eyes scanning about for any sign of a tiny creature to prey upon. Vanessa walked ahead with a skip in her step as Ollie happily trailed behind her, tail wagging as his tongue hung out making it look almost as if the little dog was smiling. They stopped a few times because Ollie wanted to sniff a specific patch of grass a few hundred times or because Maddie got distracted by a bug, but eventually they approached the end of the street.

“Ooh! I have an idea! Let's go to the gas station around the corner! Please!” Nessa begged.

“I guess we could, since it's not too far.” Winnie said before continuing up the road. The air was warm, but there was a cool breeze gently brushing through her hair. She could hear the ringing of wind chimes as they passed a couple of houses before spotting two men in their yard.

“Another dead possum. This is the fifth one we found in the last three days, Bill! And my wife said she found three dead raccoons in the backyard! I'm telling you something is out there killing all them critters!” One of the men said.

“Oh fucks sake Daniel, it's just some coyotes! It's their breeding season, they're everywhere.”

“Bill, coyotes would have dragged off and eaten the bodies! These possums don't even look like they have any bite marks on em. They're just dead…” Daniel insists.

Winnie tensed up a bit as she overheard their conversation. Vanessa however seemed to just ignore the two men and continue along the sidewalk.

“So what? You think this is some monster roaming around at night?” Bill laughed.

Oh God…..I hope that's not my monster…

Winnie bit her lip nervously as she continued down the road with Vanessa. She took a deep breath and tried not to worry about it too much. She'd talk to Astarion about it later. Everything would be fine as long as no one saw him outside while he was hunting. Eventually the two females led their pets around the corner and to a small service station that sat just outside the suburbs. Winnie scooped Maddie up and let her hitch a ride in her backpack before entering the air conditioned filled shop. Maddie stayed curled up in Winnie's pack, but occasionally poked her head out to look around.

“They always have good pizza here. We should get some!” Vanessa suggested, holding Ollie in her arms.

“Hmm….The adult in me says we should probably go home and eat to save money….But…The pizza lover in me is telling the adult to shut up.” Winnie grinned before they walked over to get two small large single slices. Oddly, just as Winnie went to pay for the food she noticed a man watching them out of the corner of her eye. He looked so familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He had combed back brown hair and was dressed in a rather stylish looking suit. He was looking at the two from outside the window of the store, smiling with a smug almost devilish smirk.

“Ma’am! That'd be 10.99!” The cashier said, breaking Winnie out of her trance.

“Oh sorry! I got distracted!” Winnie said before pulling out her debit card and paying for the pizza. Winnie and Nessa took their food before turning to leave. Winnie’s brown eyes immediately scanned outside for the man from before, but he'd completely vanished.

It was almost as if he'd never been there at all.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Okay….Brian, mom and Vanessa are asleep. Now we need to sneak out as quietly as possible.” Winnie said, running a hand through her hair as Astarion slipped on the black hoodie she had generously gifted him.

“I am rather excited for our second date.” Astarion said with a grin.

“We're just going shopping…It's not much of a date activity.” Winnie said bashfully.

“Of course it can. I'm spending time with you, that's all that matters really.” Astarion replied before opening the window and climbing out, stealthily and skillfully. Winnie grabbed her pack and purple hoodie before looking down out the window nervously. She really wasn't in the best shape for sneaking out of the house by her window.

“Come on, love.” Astarion whispered from down below. The drop from Winnie’s window to the ground wasn't exactly far enough to be dangerous, but it was enough to be intimidating.

Winnie shakily stepped out and onto some pipes that ran along the house. She closed the window on her way out before attempting to climb down the rest of the way, nearly stumbling and falling on her face only to be caught by her vampiric companion.

“Oh, look at you, trying to fall into my arms.~” Astarion teased with a wink before setting Winnie down.

“Let's just go before I end up dying by tripping or something.” Winnie said, face turning pink in embarrassment. The two set off, getting onto Winnie’s motorcycle and driving down the street and out of the suburbs. Astarion wrapped his arms around Winnie's soft plump waist. He was a little annoyed by the backpack wedged between them, but tried to hold tightly onto his darling to the best of his abilities.

Winnie zoomed up towards the city on her bike, slowly down as they reached the CornerStore. Winnie parked her motorcycle before getting off. The night sky was clear and the stars were shining brightly. Winnie walked into the store with Astarion trailing after her, red eyes curiously scanning the store. As Winnie went over to speak to Becca at the cash register, Astarion snuck over into one of the isles. He poked around at some of the merchandise for sale. The elf spotted a small colorful object that somewhat resembled the strange contraptions the people of Winnie’s realm traveled in. Astarion poked it inquisitively before nearly jumping five feet up as the tiny device released a loud repeating honking noise. Astarion quickly got away from the device in case it was some kind of magical explosive, backing up against the other isle in fear. Eventually the device went silent. Astarion let out a sigh of relief before continuing to inspect the isles, eyes growing wide with excitement as he spotted what looked like a dagger! Gleefully he snatched it up, hoping to swipe it and keep it for himself, but as he looked at it closely he realized something was off about the blade. It was quite dull and didn't appear to even be made of metal. The vampire pouted before tossing the fake dagger off to the side with a huff.

Hells below, they don't even sell decent weapons at this place.

Meanwhile, Winnie walked over and greeted Becca. “Hey Becca! I was hoping I'd catch you on your shift.”

“Oh, Hey Wyn! What's up?” Becca greeted with a cheerful smile, long red hair done into a pair of twin braids that hung over her shoulders.

“Okay so um….You modded BG3 right, I mean I remember you saying you modded most of your games so I was just wondering?” Winnie said, nervously messing with a piece of her hair.

“Yeah I did. I added some hair mods, got that anti-abs mod for some of the male characters…A cheat engine and the romance-”

“Cheat engine! That's it! Do you remember who made yours?” Winnie said, excitedly placing her hands on the conveyor belt as she looked over at Becca. Becca had a confused look on her face as she noticed Winnie's enthusiasm when she mentioned the ‘cheat engine’. She was about to speak when she suddenly noticed Astarion sneaking around the isles.

“Uh…. Winnie, is that your friend from the other day?” The redhead asked.

“Ah crap, sorry about him. Star! Get over here!” Winnie huffed a bit.

“Coming lover!~” Astarion said with a mischievous grin as he winked at Winnie. The pale elf sauntered over to his embarrassed human love who was glaring at him slightly.

“I knew he was your boyfriend! Winnie, why didn't you tell me?” Becca whined.

“Well….I-I…I-I…” Winnie sputtered nervously, trying to think of what to say when Astarion wrapped an arm around her.

“My darling, wants to keep me a secret from her step-father. She's afraid he wouldn't approve if he knew.” Astarion added.

“Oh shit, I didn't think of that. Brian has always been a bigot. He'd probably pitch a fit if he found out Winnie was dating a British guy!”

“Ah yes….That's exactly what I am….”

Whatever the hells British means…?

“Becca, the cheat engine?” Winnie pressed, looking at her friend with pleading eyes.

“Oh yeah, hmm let me think…..”Becca held her chin for a moment. “Ah, Shadowsomething69…Yeah they deactivated their account. The mod’s gone now.”

“It's…. ShadowMommy69….” Winnie cringed at the sound of the name coming out of her mouth.

“And I've been trying to find them and maybe get in touch with them.”

“Oh? Is this person a friend of yours?” Becca asked.

“No, I've never spoken to them, but I need to. Kind of a private thing though…”

“Hmm…My boyfriend Anthony might be able to get in touch with them. He's a modder and he's pretty active in the modding community, he might be able to tell you more. I think he's actually talked to them, but I'm not sure.” Becca hummed a bit before her eyes lit up as an idea popped into her head. “Ooh! Me and Anthony we're gonna go out to the carnival when it comes to town in two weeks. You two should come with! It'll be a double date! Then you can ask him there!”

“Two weeks? I don't know-” Winnie began but was quickly intercepted by Astarion.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! Don't you think so, my sweet?” Astarion asked, looking at Winnie with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“I guess…so…” Winnie sighed.

“Awesome! I'll text you the details later and come pick y'all up in my truck.” Becca smiled before suddenly some old lady walked into the store.

“Excuse me! I need help finding some cat food!” The old woman asked.

“Of course, right this way.” Becca said before leading the old lady off.

“Well, I guess we should go now.” Winnie huffed before walking out of the store with Astarion following after.

“What's the matter, love? I thought you'd be thrilled to go on another date?” Astarion quizzed.

“What if something happens between now and then? Like some world ending bullshit happens because I can't find the idiot that made a vampire pop out of my computer.”

“Sweetie, you're making me look optimistic. And that's worrying.” Astarion placed his hands on Winnie's face. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you, my love. I swear it. And besides I've dealt with the end of the world once already, surely the second time won't be as bad as the first.”

“Alright….But you do realize there are clowns at the carnival?” Winnie rose an eyebrow with a slight smirk.

“I…uh…Of course I do! But I'm not bothered by it! And I am certainly NOT afraid if that's what you are implying!” Astarion crossed his arms with a scoff.

“Okay….If you say so…” Winnie said with a mischievous giggled, “anyway we should get going. We've got shopping to do!” The human female said before hopping onto her motorcycle.

Astarion made a ‘hmph’ noise before getting on after her. The two drove into the city, being greeted by all the lights and noise of modern civilization. Astarion was still memorized by it all.

“These metal contraptions your people ride in, are they dangerous?” He asked as they zipped down the road, slowing down as they came to a red light.

“They can be. But we got rules to help keep people safe when we use them. Different sides of the roads you're supposed to be on and places you have to slow down. It's all systematic I reckon.” Winnie mused, feeling Astarion grip around her waist. “Of course not everyone uses them.” Winnie murmured glaring at a small car that just drove out in front of the red light. Astarion continued to ask a few questions as they continued deeper into the heart of the city. Winnie tried to answer to the best of her ability while keeping her eyes on the road.

About twenty minutes later they arrived at a large building titled ‘SuperStore.’ Winnie parked off to the side, taking a deep breath as she got off her bike. He'll, even at 8:00 at night this place was packed. Astarion got off Winnie's motorcycle and quickly grasped the pudgy female’s hand in his as they walked into the store.

“Hells!” Astarion squeaked as the doors suddenly automatically opened, squeezing Winnie’s hand slightly.

“It's okay Star, just doors.” Winnie teased with a grin. Astarion rolled his eyes.

“I can see that now.” He huffed before the two ventured into the store. The ‘SuperStore’ had everything you could possibly need, clothes, food, furniture, toys, electronics, you name it. Though this was pretty much the reason it always had people packed up like sardines inside.

Winnie didn't care too much for the crowds, they made her anxious, but she had to clothe her vampire so sacrifices had to be made. Thankfully his hand wrapped around her smaller one made her feel a little more at ease. Winnie glanced up as she noticed the security camera and television screen that was on the security camera. She blinked for a moment noticing it looked as if she was holding onto thin air on screen.

Huh, I guess vampires don't show up on camera.

Winnie immediately took Astarion to the clothing section and immediately smiled from ear to ear as she noticed him searching through the clothing with the giddiest of grins.

“Hm what about this?” Astarion purred and held out a black cropped tank and short leather jacket on a hanger. Winnie grabbed some jeans to go with the outfit.

“Here, try it with this. There's a room you can change in over there.” Winnie said before pointing at the men’s fitting room. She waited as he went to try it on, a shiver going down her spine.

Winnie could feel eyes on her, as if she was being watched. Hunted maybe. However when she looked she only saw what appeared to be regular old SuperStore shoppers. No one particularly intimidating, unless you count some dude walking around with saggy pants that look like they were about to fall off. But Winnie still felt this uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.

Just nerves. You're alright.

She mentally told herself. Eventually Astarion walked out of the fitting room in the outfit. He looked rather stylish and the cropped shirt exposing his abdomen was rather enticing.

“Well, what do you think?” He asked.

“You look good.” Winnie said, shyly with a blush.

Astarion crossed his arms with a pout.

“Just good? Really, you can do better than that!” He whined.

“More beautiful than all the stars in the sky. There, satisfied?” Winnie replied.

“A bit sappy for my tastes, but it'll do I suppose.” The vampire sassed, playing with one of his curls.

“Okay okay, now go and get redressed. We've got more outfits to look for.” Winnie hummed, waving the vampire off. The process repeated a few times Astarion got an outfit he liked before changing into it and demanding satisfactory praise from Winnie. And if he didn't get it he'd act like a drama queen until she said something he liked. This continued until they had at least five different outfits that were to Astarion's taste.

Dear God, I'm about to spend 200 dollars on this man….

Winnie mentally whimpered, already feeling the stinging pain of her bank account getting lighter.

She pondered the possibility of eventually pleading with the vampire to get a night time job, but then the idea of all the chaos he could cause completely squashed that idea. Winnie sighed and pushed the dreadful thoughts out of her mind as she continued to look around with her vampiric love. The two eventually came up towards the jewelry counter as the elf’s red eyes scanned over some earrings. Studs and small hoops in particular. The ones he appeared to be interested in were gold naturally considering his rather painful silver allergy.

“See something you like, Star?” Winnie asked.

“I've always wanted a pair of these. Unfortunately my..ahem… previous occupations never allowed it.” Astarion explained. Winnie sighed a bit, probably about to regret what she was going to offer.

“Would you like me to buy them for you?” Winnie asked begrudgingly.

“Yes please!” Astarion giggled before planting a kiss upon Winnie's cheek. Winnie blinked, face turning red as the biggest dopey grin spread across her face. Her annoyance about the money completely vanished. She then proceeded to ring the bell at the counter and summon the jewelry department worker.

“Hello, how can I help you?” A middle aged blonde haired woman stepped up to the counter.

“Yeah uh ... .my…. partner would like his ears pierced please…Also some earrings.” Winnie said shyly. The woman immediately looked Astarion over, eyes widening as she noticed his teeth.

“Goodness are those fangs? Crazy things you kids will do these days.” The woman said. Astarion looked as if he was about to say something, but Winnie quickly spoke up.

“Well you know fashion can be pretty crazy sometimes! My boyfriend definitely had a wild goth phase a while back.” Winnie chuckled nervously, “anyway let's just get the ear piercing over with…Gotta get home before it gets too late.” The brunette rambled on.

“Alright, take off the hood, son.” The lady said.

“Winnie my hair.” Astarion murmured to her.

“Alright I'll get it, just hold still, I'll get it!” She said, pulling down his hood and fixing his pretty white curls.

“Oh, good lord those ears!” The woman gasped, “Are they real?”

“Yes, he had a birth defect as a baby. He's real sensitive about it though.” Winnie whispered out the last part and the woman just gasped and nodded. Astarion glared over at Winnie with an unamused expression. A little peeved she wasn't letting him talk. Winnie just smiled and laughed nervously. The lady approached him, taking out the earring gun as Winnie stood by, watching nervously.

“AH! FUCKING HELLS!”

Unfortunately elf ears were extremely sensitive.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“They look good, Star. Honestly you look really good.” Winnie complimented as they arrived home. Astarion was dressed in one of the outfits he'd picked out while Winnie had the rest packed into her trunk.

“Everything looks good on me, darling.~” Astarion smirked, wind blowing through his snowy white curls as they rode home on Winnie's bike. Winnie let out a yawn, her eyes feeling a bit sleepy. Winnie was so ready to get home and sleep.

Maybe even cuddle up with her vampire boyfriend again who knows? If she could just work up the courage to ask. Astarion had a pair of blood red studs in his elven ears which matched rather well with his eyes. Eventually they reached the suburbs, slowing down as Winnie’s house was in sight. Slowly they pulled into the driveway, getting their bags out of the motorcycle’s little trunk and sneaking back around the house to Winnie’s window.

Astarion climbed up first and pulled the window open.

“Clothes, love.” He whispered, before Winnie tossed him the bags. The vampire tossed them in before climbing back down. “Now you, precious thing.~” He purred, ushering for Winnie to climb up next.

Winnie took a deep breath before climbing up, struggling a bit as she attempted to wiggle her way through the window, legs flailing a bit. Red eyes were glued to her plump rear end.

As delicious as this sight is, I should probably assist.

Astarion placed his hands on the chubby female’s backside, pushing her up suddenly. She let out a squeak and dropped into her room, falling onto the floor with a huff. Astarion swiftly climbed up after her, slipping in through the window with ease.

“And here we are, safe and sound!” Astarion sighed and stretched out while Winnie still laid on the floor, face down, ass up, as she tried to catch her breath from the climb up, panting like she had just run a marathon.

“Um….Who are you?” A small voice suddenly asked from the other side of the room. Astarion looked over to see Winnie's twelve year old step sister, eyes wide with shock.

“Shit.” Astarion breathed out.

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

Man, I did not mean for it to get this long! So, what did you think? Did you know who the mystery man following Winnie is? Any concerns about Astarion making the neighborhood's critter population go down? Are you mad I had Astarion and Winnie's kiss interrupted? Oh, what am I saying everyone gets triggered by that trope lol.

~Druid

Taglist: @astarioffsimpmain , @marcynomercy , @iamsexytrash , @gaymistakeboi , @divineknightmare , @tinyfreakgirl , @tiedyedghoulette , @misscrissfemmefatale, @gianchan-de , @jaksfanficsaver , @the-disaster-in-waiting , @hp-art-studio , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @dajeong , @iamnotokei

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