#she's the one saying he doesn't bite. while letting him bite her for blood drinking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carolmunson · 1 year ago

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you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

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miifu666 · 19 days ago

Note

Asks you say?

What if Lmk Sun Wukong didnt meet Suklha for the first time until after LMK started? And let's just say he got a little bit obsessed with her. So yandere Sun Wukong (because yanderes are awesome!)

What are your thoughts on that?

PHOENIXXX HIII 🥹🥹🩷🩷

YESSS I LOVE YANDEREEES but i do tend to make them too dead dove- I've thought about it for a while! and made some Yan! Wukong with it! just below the Read more!

(I am having trouble drawing LMK Wukong tbh)

I imagine they met through MK. Particularly meeting through MK causing wreckage and falling through the roof of Suklha meeting her Client. In this case, Suklha isn't Wukong's lawyer and he has no idea who she is.

In a very cartoonish way, Wukong got attracted at first sight. Curious and threatened. The thought of another immortal chasing after MK, his prodigy just to talk about property damage? Thats hilarious! MK was just trying to save the city! This is injustice-!

Okay, maybe he can give her the benefit of the doubt. He hasn't been teaching MK properly. He'll admit, he's not the best teacher to have. He's probably lucky to have MK as his student who's so naive and patient. Naive enough for Wukong to ask who the lady that caught him during their sparring, get his ear talked out about an immortal Lawyer amongst celebrities known as the best of the best. I mean, what kind of monkey king doesn't have her as a lawyer? She's supposed to be the best! He should fire his current one. Yeah that makes sense, its definitely not because so he can get closer to Suklha. Nah, thats too egotistical! Hes a renowned sage! He should know better!

Yet even as he FINALLY joined those "VIP party" hosted by someone he doesn't care enough about, just so multiple well known artists and celebrities can gather and talk nonsense while drinking alcohol. His eyes kept looking around for a blue toned lady, usually his own Lawyer attend these events, something about finding relations and connections.

Eh, he lives in the mountains. His novel is worldwide, he doesn't need those stupid stuff.

He's lucky enough to see his namecard being put beside the person of interest, holding a glass of fine wine. Wearing a new and expensive black outfit, yet similar enough to her usual look.

"Oh? I was expecting your lawyer... is he not coming?"

Hearing her talk about him so fondly made his eyes twitch, blood red sclera affecting his vision. The room is closing in, he can sense everything in it. The chitter chatter, clinking of expensive glass, the pouring of alcohol, and the way Suklha's heavy earrings seemed to shine. Maybe firing the prick wasn't enough, maybe he should've done something more... adequate

All he can do is bite his bottom lip till blood draws out, all this time, such treasure was hiding under his nose. Spending time with his uptight and annoying Lawyer, who does nothing but berates him on not checking his emails and being "unprofessional". His ugly, old-schooled lawyer, got a chance to introduce himself to her?? How...foul

Don't worry, The Monkey King is good at handling business

_________

To those of you who wants to send me asks! I may not answer some of them, but i still appreciate and read all of them!! 🥹🫶 and yes its okay to send ur oc to introduce me to/yap to me abt! Please be mindful of my pinned post!

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months ago

Text

Bonded: Part 4

Baby What You Want Me to Do

A/N: Here is the next part to the vampire series I started last Halloween! Things are heating up as we move from 1960 to 1970 with vampire Elvis and our vampire reader. I hope you enjoy!

Need to catch up?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, but they're vampires so also blood drinking, biting, and someone with a pretty serious illness

Word count: ~3.8k

December 1970

He prays desperately that they'll find you. You're his only hope.

Elvis paces the TV room at Graceland smoking his cigar much too quickly. What will he do if the guys can't find you? He's talked to three different vampires and they all refused to help him. Surely, once he explains, you'll do what he needs.

There's also a small part of him that just wants to know where you are, wants to see you again. He's wondered where you were so many times over the last decade and he almost broke down and looked for you on several occasions. But he was never as desperate as he is now.

He sits down on the couch and stares absentmindedly at the TVs as they play three different football games. Hopefully Sonny and the guys can find you. They have to find you.

******

You leave your job at the Moulin Rouge not long after your encounter with Elvis. People start to notice that you aren't aging. But more than that, everything there reminds you of him. So you pack up and move to Rome. You bounce around Europe for the better part of the decade and then decide you'll go home to America. By the mid ‘60s there are more soldiers, but you have no interest in living in Vietnam. Besides, you’re getting a little tired of the routine that keeps you alive. Several times you consider giving up entirely and letting yourself fade, but there’s always a reason to keep going, even if it’s just that you have to go to work the next day.

You watch Elvis's career from afar, see every single one of his movies, and cry when you watch the Special in ‘68. That's when you go home, settling in Las Vegas to become a showgirl. There is a steady stream of male tourists and, if you’re being honest, the vague chance that you might run into Elvis. In a way, you’re happy, despite living alone. After Paris, you stop looking for others like you and learn to be content to live in isolation. Even after all these years, the only one you really want is him.

You get invited to one of his parties once by some guy who is trying to show off, but you bail at the last second, scared of how he might react to seeing you again. He’s married with a child, why would he want to reconnect with the woman who ruined his life? Still, his life doesn't seem ruined when you read what the papers have to say about his grand return to the stage. You're happy he’s happy and you make that be enough.

******

Elvis walks upstairs to Lisa Marie’s room and stands in the doorway for a little while just watching the scene in front of him. His little girl lays in the bed asleep as the nurse sits beside her waiting for the next coughing fit.

“How is she?” He whispers and the nurse looks up at him.

“Not any better. The doctor is worried that the whooping cough will turn to pneumonia. If that happens-”

“It won't.” He can't entertain that possibility in his mind. She's already too sick. He walks over to the bed and kneels down beside it, looking at his toddler daughter struggling to breathe on the pillow. She's not even 3 years old. “I won't let it happen.”

“Mr. Presley, I know it's hard to think about, but she's not responding to the antibiotics. You need to-” He turns to her with his eyes burning and cruel. It's easy to forget he's a vampire until he looks like this. The nurse doesn't know, of course, but she's filled with an icy cold terror anyway.

“I've already fired three nurses for talking like this. Do you want to be next?” He spits it at her and she shakes her head vehemently.

“N-no sir. I'm sorry.” She shrinks like a mouse in front of a violent predator. Elvis glares at her, nostrils flaring, and seriously considers draining her dry. He hasn't fed in days and he feels his fangs descend just thinking about it. Shaking his head a little, he turns back to face the bed and takes a deep breath to get rid of his fangs.

“You just do your job. Leave the rest to me.” He lifts Lisa Marie’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently. “My baby will be just fine.”

The nurse nods as he stands up and walks to the doorway, pausing to look back at the bed.

“She will be fine.” He has to find you before it's too late.

******

You read in the papers that Elvis is back in Vegas at the end of January 1971. Every time you find out he's there, your heart skips and you try not to pray that this is the time you run into him. You attempt to go about your business as usual and ignore the strange pull you feel to reach out to him.

It takes every amount of threatening from the Colonel to get Elvis to go back to Vegas while Lisa Marie is sick. Her whooping cough does turn into pneumonia and she just seems to get worse with each passing day. Elvis has her moved to a hospital in Vegas so he can be with her any time he's not on stage.

In the meantime, the men he's sent to search for you continue to come up empty handed. Nobody at the Moulin Rouge knows where you are and none of their other leads go anywhere. Mary hasn't spoken with you since the day Elvis was turned. And even though they find Anya back home in Russia, she doesn't know where you are either. Last she heard, you were going back to America, but she wasn't sure where you'd gone.

Elvis breaks almost every knick knack in his Vegas suite flying into fits of rage over their incompetence. He could've told them you were in America. There's a strange feeling in him that tells him you're close by, he's just not sure where.

So when he sees you one day crossing the street in front of him on his way to the hospital, he almost doesn't believe it's you. But he'd recognize you anywhere, even with his eyes closed. For some reason, his extreme senses pick up on you better than anything he's ever experienced. He can smell you and hear you despite the bustling city around him.

Without warning, he unlocks the door and hops out of the car, ignoring the pleas from his bodyguards. He's stronger than all of them combined, so they don't even attempt to hold him back as he runs across the street to you.

You feel him before you see him, his scent almost overwhelming you. Your eyes close and you stop dead in your tracks as he comes up behind you.

“Y/n…”

“Elvis.” You turn to him, opening your eyes slowly. For a second, you both just stare at each other.

“I need you.” You're not sure what you were expecting to come out of his mouth, but it wasn't that.

“You… need me?”

“Yes. Please. Come with me.” You're on your way to work, but you don't think twice.

“Okay.” He leads you back through traffic to his car where it's parked as his bodyguards wait for him to come back. Sonny stands there, not sure what to think about the kind of woman that makes Elvis Presley jump out of a moving car.

“What the hell, boss?” Elvis just shakes his head.

“I told you she was close, man.” Sonny's mouth pops open.

“Is that… she's… that's her?” Elvis nods as he opens the door for you to slide into the backseat.

“That's her.” He slides into the seat beside you and slams the car door. You can't get over how good he looks in his velvet jacket. His hair is a lot longer than the last time you saw him, but he's just as handsome as he's ever been.

“Elvis…”

“I need your help. I've been looking for you.” Your body is screaming for you to pull him close to you, but you try to ignore the instinct.

“For me? Why?”

“You'll see.” You ride in silence, not sure what to say to the man you've loved for over a decade when you haven't seen him in just as long. When the car pulls up in front of the hospital, you really start to wonder what he wants with you. “Don't say anything to the press.”

He doesn't give you time to ask any questions before getting out of the car and running to your side to help you out.

“Elvis, what-?”

“Just come with me.” He puts his hand on the small of your back, sending shivers through both of you, and leads you past the paparazzi and through the hospital to Lisa Marie's room. At the door he turns to you with a strange look of desperation on his face. His distress is almost palpable. “I need your help with this.”

He pushes the door open and guides you into the room. When you see the little girl in the bed, oxygen pumping and monitors beeping, your hand goes to your mouth.

“This is my daughter, Lisa Marie. She has pneumonia and it's not responding to the medication.” Your eyes fill with tears, his sadness overwhelming you.

“What do you need from me?” He hesitates for a second and then decides he has nothing to lose.

“I need you to help me turn her into one of us.”

His request hangs in the air like some tangible thing. It takes a second for you to really register what he's asking, before you turn to him with your eyes wide.

“Elvis, she's a child. She's a baby. I'm not-”

“She's dying, y/n. I can't lose her.” You feel the desperation roll off of him in deep waves and look back at the toddler in the bed. For a second, you consider what it would mean.

“No, Elvis! I'm not doing this!” You turn and walk out of the hospital room. In the hallway, you lean against the wall and try to catch your breath. His emotions are making it difficult to think. You don't remember being this sensitive to him before, but it's like the years apart have made your senses even more extreme. There's always a strange sort of connection between a vampire and their maker, but yours seems to be especially strong. Or maybe his feelings are just that intense.

“Y/n! Please. You're my only hope of saving her.” His blue eyes burn with desperation.

“No!” You yell at first and then lower your voice when you realize the nurses at the desk are watching the two of you. “I'm not doing this, Elvis. I can't.”

He grabs your shoulders and shakes you a little, not hard but enough to feel.

“You have to! You did this to me! You owe me this!” He's frantic now, almost hysterical with the thought that you're refusing to do what he needs. You reach up and take his face in both hands.

“Elvis. Not here. Not like this. People are watching.” He blinks a few times and lets go of your shoulders, looking around. He sniffs hard and takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes. Placing them back on his nose, he looks at you intensely.

“Okay. Come with me.” He takes your hand and drags you back through the hospital to his car, ignoring the reporters as they yell questions about who you are and why he's at the hospital. Back in the safety of the car, he breaks down. “I don't know what else to do.”

He leans over in your arms and you hold him as he cries on your chest. Tears stream down your cheeks and your body is wracked with sobs. You're not sure if it's his sadness or yours that's got you like this, but you hold him and rock with him in your arms the whole way back to his hotel.

When you pull up, he groans and sits up, wiping his face with his hands. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to you to wipe your face with. You're not sure why he didn't use it himself, but it's like that would be admitting he had cried. Once you're both cleaned up as much as you can be, he opens the car door and leads you up to his suite. As soon as you're alone, he rounds on you. His eyes are so much on fire that they're almost red.

“Tell me again why the fuck you won’t save my daughter’s life.”

“Elvis, think about what you're asking me. You want me to help you make your baby a vampire.” He turns and kicks a table.

“I want you to SAVE HER LIFE.” He snarls at you angrily. You decide that yelling back is not going to be helpful. Instead you take a deep breath and ask quietly.

“Did I save your life?” He stares at you.

“What?”

“When I turned you, did I save your life?” You say it slowly and deliberately and watch as he puts together what you're asking.

“No, but I wasn't dying.” He seems to have softened a bit though, so you continue this line of questioning.

“And are you happy that I turned you?”

“Not really.” The bitterness in his voice cuts straight through you.

“Is this the life you want for your child?” That strikes a chord and he looks up at you with his eyes cold again.

“I didn't want this life for myself.” Now it's your turn to shake your head and get a little fired up.

“Oh no you don't. You do not get to blame this on me. You begged me to turn you.” You watch as he puffs up again and prepares for a fight.

“And you knew better!”

“I told you-”

“BUT YOU DID IT ANYWAY!” He walks close to you and towers over you. “YOU DID IT ANYWAY!”

“YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME AN OPTION!” He scares you a bit, but you refuse to back down. “YOU-”

“AND THEN YOU SENT ME AWAY!” You laugh derisively.

“I sent you away?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” You take a step towards him and look up into his face. “You left me!”

He grabs your upper arms and shakes you again.

“DO YOU THINK I WANTED TO LEAVE-” You cut him off and scream.

“DO YOU THINK I WANTED YOU TO LEAVE?! I LOVED YOU!” He lets go of your arms and his mouth pops open, but he closes it quickly and turns away from you. You whisper to his back. “I love you.”

You try to suppress your tears, dying to know what he is thinking. He doesn't give you long to wonder, though. Instead, he turns back to you with a tortured expression.

“Why the fuck didn't you say anything?”

“I knew better! I knew you didn't love me!” He shakes his head.

“You decided for me.”

“Are you telling me I was wrong?!” Your voice wavers as the tears threaten to spill over. “You know you didn't-”

And then in three steps he's wrapped around you, his mouth crashed into yours, kissing you with an unbridled passion.

You don't even think, your body just responds and you jump to wrap your legs around his waist. He catches you easily and carries you to the bedroom, his mouth never moving from yours. A decade’s worth of pent up passion is escaping you both as he lays you down on the bed and rolls his hips forward to meet yours. He stops for the smallest second and strokes the side of your face with the back of his fingers. Then he leans in and kisses you softly a few times before the heat takes over again and he tears at your clothes. In a few short minutes he's got you both stripped naked and you press your bodies together, soaking in the feeling of each other’s skin. It's been so long since he's had you like this that he almost forgot what it felt like to be this close to you, but it all comes rushing back to him as you whimper underneath him. He presses his lips to your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses in his wake as he moves down your stomach. His fangs have already descended and he grazes them against your inner thigh in the place where he bit you when you made love before he left Germany. How many nights has he thought of that day? The way you tasted and smelled and how you writhed under his body in pleasure.

You're overwhelmed with the reality of him as he worships you, having spent too many years imagining him, replaying your last time together over and over in your mind with your fingers pressed to your clit, whispering his name into the darkness like a prayer. You feel your fangs against your bottom lip and arch your back as he drags his tongue up your thigh and hovers just over your center.

“You really thought I didn't love you?” He whispers, just before he lowers his mouth to you, letting his tongue dart out over your sensitive bud. You moan softly as he begins to lick and suck you with the fire of a man possessed by desire. Words are beyond you as he works your clit with his mouth and then moves down to press his tongue as deep inside you as it'll go. You whimper and gasp as he fucks you with his tongue and then moves back up, sliding two long fingers into you. The feeling of his rings against your entrance is new and particularly delicious as you feel your orgasm start to gather in between your hips. His fangs press gently into your skin as he licks you hard and slides his fingers in and out. He knows you're close to a climax, remembers the way you feel like this, and is pulling out all the stops to push you over the edge. “Come on, baby. You can let go for me. I'm not goin’ anywhere.”

He's not sure why that's what he says, but it works nonetheless and you feel yourself giving in to the pleasure as it washes over you in pounding waves. He moans a little when he feels you pulse around his fingers. As your clit softens, he pulls back a bit and it takes everything in him not to sink his fangs into your thigh. His dick is so hard it almost hurts and he's dying for some kind of release. He hasn't fed in way too long and the knowledge that you're there and you taste so good is about to kill him.

You watch, confused, as he moves away from you and sits up with his back against the headboard, leaning back and sighing deeply.

“Elvis, what-?”

“I'm trying not to bite you.” You sit up and look at him, so beautiful with his eyes closed and his head thrown back, shaggy hair a little wet with sweat. His body is taut and when your eyes land on his hard cock standing at the ready, your pussy clenches around nothing.

“Why?” You whisper as you slink over to him and crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs and taking his dick in your hand. He groans as you start to pump him and then lean in and kiss his chest. “I don't mind.”

He immediately lifts his head and looks down as you move your hair out of the way and expose your neck to him. It’s been so long and he knows how good you taste. A low growl escapes him as he leans forward and licks a spot on your neck.

“You're sure, baby?”

“Just don't drain me, but yes.” He smiles a little and drags his fangs across your skin. Your hand is still pumping him, but as he moves to bite you, you lift up and sink down onto his cock while his fangs press into your neck. Both of you moan deeply with the double sensation. You roll your hips against him as he sucks the blood from your neck and the passion begins to mount again as both of his hands move to your back. He groans as you begin to bounce on him harder, pushing him so deep inside you that you dance on the edge of another orgasm.

“Fuck, Elvis!” You moan and he backs away from your neck and pulls your mouth to his, your fangs bumping into his as you taste your own blood on his tongue. He moves his hands to your hips and starts to lift and drop you faster and faster, feeling the pleasure rise in him and threaten to explode inside you. Then, he grabs the other side of your neck with his hand and presses his forehead into yours as you fuck him.

“Of course I loved you. I’ve always loved you. I still love you.” You let out a strangled moan at his words and clamp your mouth shut. The instinct to bite him is so strong that you can barely control it. And it only gets worse when he cocks his head to the side and moves his hair off his neck.

“I can't.”

“Yes you can. Please.”

“Elvis…” But it's beyond your control when he moves his thumb to your clit and he pushes you over the edge into another blinding climax. Your eyes darken and the next thing you know, you're sinking your fangs into him as he holds you in place and cums deep inside you. The sweet taste of his blood rushes over your tongue as his cock pulses inside you. The pleasure overwhelms both of you so deeply that for a second it feels like you black out. When you both come to, you're laying on the bed with your head down by his feet and his head by yours. You feel him grab your ankle and kiss it, a smile spreading across your face.

“You okay, baby?” He asks with his lips against your skin. You sit up and rearrange to be in his arms. He kisses your forehead and sighs deeply.

“I'm fine. Better than fine. Are you okay?” You look up at him but he keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

“Yeah, I'm… I love you.” You kiss his jawline.

“I love you too. What is it?” There's a pause as you watch him try to find the words to say what's on his mind. Eventually he just opens his mouth and it comes tumbling out.

“My baby girl is gonna die, isn't she?”

You lay together in silence and the thought hits him that at least he'll have you when it happens.

******

To be continued...

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

Note

First I wanna say I absolutely adore your writing! <3

I was wondering if you could write a Daemon x Reader where the reader is a noble Northern lady who is like a shieldmaiden and they fight together at Stepstones. They kind of become friends and the reader constantly teases Daemon about how he has never seen anything about life in his Prince-ly upbringing and she knows more than him even though he is older (though it is the start of the battle of stepstones so he is canonically like 25 but still he is like 3-4 years older than her). But then while they are talking and drinking she accidentally blurts out that she is still a maiden and now it is time for Daemon to tease her. Then boom, smut happens.

Mine For The Night

"It's not something to fuss over, really," Daemon mutters, thumb on my lips, breath laced with wine, "and wouldn't it better I take your maidenhead than some old man you'll never desire?"

Daemon Targaryen x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, mentions/depictions of drinking/drunkenness, smut (drunk sex, loss of virginity, piv, breeding kink, choking, scratching, biting?), sleazy!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: rah its been a while since a daemon req so lemme crack this egg

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa

The onlooking crowd cheers when I dodge the man who charged into me. The bumbling brute batters into a table of men who aren't fortunate enough to be as quick as I am. The collision is heavy and loud. The ruffian, who was dim enough to pick a fight with me, spills all the drinks on the table on impact. It inspires the sat men to stand and to hurtle him against the wall, where he then passes out.

Daemon watches this play out with the rest of the patrons in the tavern, arms crossed, chest buzzing in amusement.

"That'll teach ya to mind yer manners," a man from our company barks before sharing a laugh with the rest of the men.

My inebriety is washed off with my exhaustion. I wobble back to my table, glaring at the men there, "you lot could stand to help?"

Daemon chuckles, but someone else answers, "well, our lady proved the point beautifully."

I roll my eyes, "men are good for nothing," I grab my things and head out of the tavern.

"Oh, don't be like that, lady love!" one of the men call, "I'm sure one of us can show you how good it can be to have a man!"

They share a laugh with each other and I roll my eyes.

The moment, I'm outside, I burp and head back to our camp. I whip my head to the side when I realize someone came outside with me.

"The slurs of drunken cunts," Daemon grins, walking beside me with his hands behind his back.

I shake my head and keep walking, "you're a cunt yourself, since you sat and watched."

"There's something rather bewitching seeing you get covered in ale and blood," he mutters through a lopsided smile.

"Mmm, I pray you be bewitched all the way back to your tent and leave me be," I glare at him before walking faster.

He makes a tutting sound and grabs my arm, preventing me from moving any father. The prince shakes his head and brushes his hand down my shoulder, "my drunken fool has forgotten her promise to me."

I scowl at him, "who are you calling fool?" I shove him back. It doesn't work very effectively. Curses. I hiss, "I made no promise to you. Unhand me."

Daemon chuckles, both his hands now on my arms, "ah, you're right. Twas I that promised you this," he rubs his hands up to my temples and swipes his thumbs on my brows, "the head of our enemy's dimwitted commander for a night you'd not forget."

My breath catches in my throat when the silver haired man leans closer. He mutters, "or did you think my words on the battlefield were weightless, Northern girl?"

"I am not interested in your words, nor doing such lascivious things with you," I push him off by his chest.

Daemon lets me walk away, and he laughs as I do so. "I did not think your memory would be so poor after such cheap wine touched your lips."

I hear him follow after me.

"Shall I recite how you confessed your desires to bed a man before you died?"

"And I am alive, am I not?"

"You'll only truly, once you've had me throw your legs over my shoulders and-"

"WHATEVER I SPOKE TO YOU-" I snap, turning around and pointing a finger at him, "about my sinful desires-"

Daemon chuckles.

"-in moments of weakness, be it when I was drunk or desperate in the middle of a fight, do away with it, devil."

He laughs louder at that.

"I have no intention of sullying myself, all because you-"

"My," he drags out and yanks be by the arm, "my lady is acting suddenly so ladylike."

I narrow my eyes at him, "I have always been ladylike because I am a lady!" I wrangle out of my his grip.

I whine when he grips my shoulders tightly. My stomach drops at the way he whispers in his mother tongue against my ear. Though I do not know what he says, I renders me frozen in my spot.

The prince relishes in this. His hands find my cheeks again. He leans in close, so close I can smell what he had been drinking. "It's not something to fuss over, really," Daemon mutters, thumb on my lips, breath laced with wine, "and wouldn't it better I take your maidenhead than some old man you'll never desire?"

Whatever I flaring retort I had is put out by the moistness of his lips.

I had never been kissed before. The sensation makes my insides roll and it's surprisingly so pleasant to be kissed by such a man as Daemon.

He chuckles, "oh, apologies," he brushes my hair back, "wasn't your maidenhood already broken ages ago on the account of your horseback riding?"

My heart races when his one hand slips into my clothes, on to my bare chest. His other hand comes to my waist. He sighs contentedly when I do not repel him after pulling me close to kiss me once more. I actually kiss him back this time.

"No one's gonna know," he mutters, "just us and the gods."

We're a mess of heavy breathing when we reach my tent. Daemon wastes no time in ripping me out of my clothing. It doesn't take long for it to be just him and I in a sea of discarded fabrics.

My skin reaches out to him with goosebumps when his hot huffs hit my neck. My movements are intrinsic; I reach out to him just as he kneads my body. His hips nestle between my bare thighs. A whine escapes me when he begins to rub against me.

"Relax," he mutters, "it won't hurt. You'll enjoy it."

I sigh as he begins to trail kisses down my neck. I slowly feel myself melt into his touch. He continues meshing his hips into mine until a tingle builds in my belly and my toes curl in response. I feel a slickness build between my thighs. I claw my nails into his back and he hisses in response. My legs tighten around him. He groans, muttering something in his native tongue.

I gasp when he tugs me by my hair and speaks hotly against my ear, "you're making it hard for me to be gentle with you."

I claim his lips with my teeth, making him groan. I scratch my fingers up his nape and pull on his hair in a more gentle and needing manner, "I can take it."

Daemon lets out an amused garbled noise then claws my legs apart as he shifts above me. I throw my head back and squeal the moment shoves in my weeping cunny and he proceeds to thrust at a vigorous pace. He huffs through his nostrils as his thick, heavy member bullies into me. He pins me in place by clamping his hands at the back of my thigh and folding my legs like he meant to make me half my size.

"Oh," he lets out a prolonged sigh, "if they could see you now," he heaves, "powerless against me, reduced into a mewling little girl, taking it like a bitch in heat." He chuckles, lifting himself up to watch how he had me whining and rolling my eyes back.

He releases one thigh then pushes my jaw back; my voice and neck strain because of it. He goes wild over the sight and sound of my frantic breathing. He slightly squeezes my jaw, "no one's gonna know you lost your maidenhead to me."

I feel my lungs deflate when he puts more pressure on my airways.

"Mmm," he hums through the sound of slapping skin, "but everyone's gonna know I pumped my seed into you when your babe comes out looking like me."

I suck in a sharp breath when he releases my throat.

"Let's see how you fare once you're heavy with my child."

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut

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charmandabear · 1 year ago

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Three

Summary:

Astarion surprises you by inviting you to his place... for a real date? The evening doesn't go as expected when you uncover the darkness in his past.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.4k Tags/Warnings: mentions of Astarion's past, vampire bites, blood drinking, blow job, p in v sex, fluff with a very small side of angst, Shadowheart being a bit of a manic pixie dream best friend

Since y'all are insistent on encouraging my worst tendencies, here, have the longest single thing I've ever written. I think about Professor Astarion at all waking (and sleeping at this point) hours. I have other things planned, I will eventually write something else, I promise. But also... this one is now becoming a full-fledged multi-chapter fic. I'm half-considering rewriting the first few chapters so it's in third-person? I don't know though, let me know what you think.

H1ghVoltage and Zaria were both invaluable betas for this one, I appreciate you both so much. And Zaria for always providing the most perfect screenshots at the drop of a hat. This literally would not exist without you.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Excuse me? The one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she tucks her feet underneath her, holding up her wine glass so it doesn’t spill. The two of you met while moving into adjacent apartments a few years prior; it turned out you had both just been hired at the university, her at the Divinity School and you at the College of Arts and Sciences. Since then you’ve become fast friends, and you’re finally filling her in on all of the details of the whirlwind that has been the past few days. You hide your chagrin behind a sip of wine.

“Okay, listen, yes, but hear me out. He looks like this.” You hold out your phone and show her the English department faculty page.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. “Okay, you didn’t tell me that.”

“I think I was in denial,” you whine as you drop your head onto the couch cushion. “I focused on how much of an asshole he is to distract me from how hot he is.”

“And now? Will you see him again?” She tosses your phone at your feet and you lift your gaze.

“I don’t know? He made a joke about having sex in my office but I don’t think he actually meant it.” You cast a sidelong glance at Shadowheart, trying to gauge her expression.

“Scandalous,” she smiles into the rim of her glass before taking a long sip. You pick up your phone, looking at his portrait. It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

You drop your phone again and angrily sip at your wine, letting the dry red flood over your tongue and coat the inside of your mouth. You notice Shadowheart eyeing you suspiciously.

“Do you want to?” she asks, and you put your glass onto the coffee table and curl your knees into your chest further.

“I… I don’t know? Like obviously the sex is good. Really good,” you add under your breath, and Shadowheart looks at you salaciously as your cheeks flush. “But whenever he says more than five words I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Is that really how you feel, or have you just convinced yourself to feel that way?” she carefully asks. You glare at her, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. You drop your less-than-menacing expression and cover your face in your hands. You let out an exasperated sigh before suddenly gasping and looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Nine hells, did I tell you what else happened? At least one student knows. I saw her coming out of his office and she made some comment about ‘We all see how you look at him.’” You flop onto your side, burying your face in the couch cushion once again.

“Well, I suppose that answers your question, at least,” Shadowheart says reassuringly, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean if you like him enough that your students are noticing, then you have to pursue him. The worst that’ll happen is you’ll break up and you can go back to hating him.” She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described a literal nightmare.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” you gape at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” she grins at you, and her teeth are tinged purple from the wine. You kick your foot out at her.

“Man, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” you tease and she groans.

“Listen, you just told me that you got railed twice in three days, it’s not that good out here for most of us.” Now it’s her turn to cover her face and you laugh. You pick up your wine and stretch your legs out to nudge Shadowheart’s calf.

“Who knows, maybe there’s some hot chick in the English department that he can hook you up with.” She pushes your leg back and rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

You have no idea what to expect when you inevitably run into Astarion the next day. You're tempted to just work from home since you don’t have any classes, but you have another damn season selection committee meeting that you can't miss, and you'd rather be around for students to drop in if they need to.

You're on your way to the bathroom at the end of the day when you finally see him. You almost don't, at first, since you're looking down at your phone and you stop short of barrelling into him. You lock eyes and smile politely, then step to your left just as he steps to his right. You two share an awkward laugh just as it happens again in the opposite direction. After another few seconds of uncomfortable shuffling, he takes you by your shoulders and moves you to the side. You give him a thankful grin and quickly move past, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks and the way your arms tingle where he touched you.

You get to the bathroom and close the door behind you, leaning against it to brace yourself. Your stomach is roiling, though whether it was from the embarrassment, the insatiable lust, or something else entirely, you can't quite tell. You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cool water. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to will yourself into stoicism. It's a losing battle as the image of him having you bent over the sink pops into your mind. You shake your head, trying to think of something else, but that only makes it worse.

He’s pressed you up against the bathroom door and he's got your wrists pinned together above your head.

No, stop, you scold yourself. But the second you banish that image another one comes flooding in, your leg draped over his shoulder as he’s lightly sucking your clit with his fingers curled inside you.

You're dizzy with the mental image and you try to wrest it from your mind. You focus on the visual stimuli around you, the white tile, the fluorescent lights, the small blue stain beneath the soap dispenser. Eventually you find yourself back in your body and you massage your temples, trying to focus.

Your head is still reeling slightly as you make your way back to your office. You unlock the door, completely unaware of his presence behind you until you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. You yelp and in an instant he’s towering over you with your back up against the wall.

“Almighty gods, Astarion,” you swear breathlessly, your heart pounding more from the scare than the proximity for once. The proximity doesn’t help, however, when he tilts your chin with his knuckle and smiles devilishly.

“Come to my place, let me cook you dinner,” he purrs, and your breath quickens. But when his words finally break through the seductive tone, something in your brain stops.

“Wait, cook? Can you- do you even- how-” You still haven’t fully recovered and your mouth struggles to form words. His smile widens and you know he’s enjoying watching you splutter.

“What, do you think in all of my 350 years I've never bedded a mortal? Besides,” he trails his hand down your neck and strokes it gently with his thumb, sending a shiver down your spine, “I have other ways of getting my fill.”

You instinctively tilt your head for him, almost like you’re inviting him to bite right here and now. You manage to recoup your senses just enough to quip, “I’m sure you have plenty of experience luring cute mortals back to your place.”

You think you see his jaw tighten for a fraction of a second, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“I’ll take it as a yes, then?” He pulls away and adjusts his glasses, his fingers sliding into his hair. You nod, not trusting the words to come out of your mouth. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and tucks it into the neckline of your shirt, a move that would have been unbearably corny coming from anyone else.

“See you then… lover.” He winks and glides out of the room as silently as he came in. You take a breath to steady yourself, a voice in the back of your head grumbling because of how much he has you wrapped around his finger. But admittedly, he seemed equally flustered when you almost plowed into him a few minutes ago.

Maybe not the best choice of words.

You pull the piece of paper out to see an address, date, and time. Tomorrow at 7.

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

Now you just need to occupy yourself for the next 26 hours and not completely lose your nerve.

***

Occupying yourself isn’t terribly difficult with Shadowheart around. She keeps you busy all day with various errands, shopping, anything to keep you from spiraling.

Nevertheless, when it’s finally time to get dressed, you find yourself overthinking every tiny element. You stand frozen in front of your open underwear drawer trying to decide between the black lace or the pink satin.

“Shadowheeeaaaarrrrrtttt,” you call out to her in the other room. She pops her head in and gives you a pitying smile as she sees your anxiety-ridden face.

“Alright, sit, let me help,” she clinks her glass down on your dresser and nudges you until you’re sitting on your bed, fidgeting with the belt of your robe.

“Black lace, it’s sexier,” she says sagely, tossing the panties at you and you slide them on under your robe. She pulls the plaid skirt out of the shopping bag and flings it onto the bed.

“Put that on because we both agreed it’s adorable. It might be warm enough to go without tights?” she muses, then glances at you mischievously. “And since he has a track record of destroying those, maybe go with these instead.” She throws a pair of thigh highs at you and they hit you in the face. You wrinkle your nose.

“Careful,” you warn, but she ignores you. She floats over to your closet and sifts through the hangers. She pulls out a top, shifts her gaze between you and the garment a few times, then drops it on the floor. After another moment of searching, she pulls out a blousy cardigan, throwing it on the bed next to you.

“Don’t put that on yet, I’ll be right back.” She disappears before you can say anything. You’re left sitting on your bed in just your bra and skirt, and you rub your feet together with a restless energy.

Shadowheart returns just a few minutes later holding a lacy top that reads more as lingerie than an actual shirt. She returns your skeptical frown with a giant grin.

“Shade, I'm not wearing that,” you gripe, and she throws it in your face.

“Put it on before you judge,” she chides in response, and you roll your eyes.

“Fine, but it probably won't fit,” you say as you take off your bra and don the sheer v-neck cami. Other than straining around your chest slightly, the fit is fine. You put on the oversized cardigan over it and look at the full effect in your floor length mirror.

“See, told you,” she says smugly as you admire your reflection. And it's true, the underwear-as-outerwear really does bring the look from glorified schoolgirl cosplay into something a bit more refined. You give her a disgruntled sidelong glance but otherwise say nothing.

“Alright, get going. Go put your shoes on and chase that Ph D.” She pushes you out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment. “Don't worry about me, I'll be here drinking your wine and masturbating all by myself while you get fucked through the end of the tenday.”

You slip on your black suede ankle boots and pleadingly look at Shadowheart one more time. You're still not convinced that this whole thing isn’t just a trip into the lion’s den.

“Go! I look forward to hearing all the gory details,” she says and plants a smooch on your cheek. She then smacks your ass as you head out the door, your yelp earning a satisfied smirk.

Sure enough, when you find yourself outside his apartment door, you can feel your cold feet catching up with you. You're about to take out your phone and text Shadowheart that you're going to leave when his door opens.

“Hello, beautiful,” he croons, and the syrup in his voice makes your mouth go dry. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up and the first few buttons are undone, leaving his collarbone exposed. The black vest tapers in his waist and flows seamlessly into his well-tailored trousers. But the first thing you notice is his glasses.

“Your glasses are different,” you blurt, internally cursing your bluntness. His eyebrows pop up above the thicker plastic frames.

“Is that a problem?” he asks without a hint of malice in his voice. You blush and quickly shake your head.

“No I- I like them. They look good,” you stutter, looking away from the heat of his gaze. He smiles and takes your hand almost like he's leading you in a courtly dance, pulling you inside.

You look around his apartment, noticing the similarities to the hominess of his office. Big overfull bookshelves, warm-lit lamps dotted around the space, papers and other junk littered across every surface. It still surprises you that he doesn’t keep a tidy space, but at the same time you find it oddly charming.

You spot a hairless cat sitting on some mail on a table in the corner, delicately licking its paw.

“Aww, who’s this?” You approach the cat, holding out your hand for it to sniff. It hisses in response and you take a step back.

“That's His Majesty, and you're best to respect his wishes,” Astarion calls from the kitchen.

“You named your cat His Majesty?” you ask, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

“No, he named himself His Majesty,” he replies, returning from the kitchen with a spoonful of risotto. “Taste,” he commands and you obediently open your mouth. The steaming food coats your tongue with a tangy, savory taste. You nod at him, barely trusting yourself to speak. It tastes incredible.

You turn back to His Majesty, and you notice an empty potion of animal speaking tipped on its side near him.

“Well I'll just admire such a handsome creature from a distance, then,” you say and His Majesty preens slightly. You can hear a hum of approval from Astarion as he retreats back into the kitchen.

This man is full of contradictions. Pristine, clean cut outward appearance with a cluttered, disorganized space. Cool and disaffected, but he loves his cat enough to use potions to communicate with him. He doesn't need to eat, but somehow he’s an incredible cook? You frown to yourself; it feels like something doesn't add up.

You start scanning one of the bookshelves, wondering what else you can learn about him. If there was an organizational system, it wasn't clear. 48 Laws of Power, History of Modern Sexuality, On the Genealogy of Morality, Gender Trouble… Ayn Rand sitting next to Octavia Butler?

What the fuck does he like?

“How is my collection of books holding up in your estimation?” Astarion’s sudden presence behind you makes you jump. He presses a wine glass into your hand and ghosts his lips across the crook of your neck, sending a swath of goosebumps down your arms.

“Did I tell you that you look absolutely delicious?” he murmurs into your skin, and you can already feel yourself getting lightheaded.

“You're one to talk,” you say on a dizzied exhale, and the breath from his laugh tickles your shoulder. He puts his hands on your waist, running a finger along the inside of the waistband of your skirt. He gives it a gentle tug and you unconsciously move in the direction he’s pulling.

“Come eat,” he says, guiding you to a table with one place setting. You sit, feeling awkward as he sits across from you, a wine glass in his hand.

“Are you just going to watch me eat?” you laugh nervously. He smiles into the glass, glancing at you above the rectangular frames sliding down his nose.

“Well if you're insistent, I can have my dinner as well.” He's not subtle about leering at your neck, sparking a flicker of heat in your belly. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the risotto, which somehow tastes even better than what he fed you before.

“So what do you experience when you have… food?” you ask, trying to shift his attention off you eating. He looks up as he thinks, and you find your gaze tracing his jawline.

“It’s… sour. Like it’s spoiled. But when something is cooked well, and with high quality ingredients, it’s more bearable.”

You look down at your food, the taste dancing across your palette. It's certainly better than something you could make for yourself. But you know so little about cooking techniques besides the basics that you don’t know what the difference would even be.

“And you're drinking wine. What does that taste like?” You try not to stare at the dark red liquid collecting on his lips, but it’s hard not to when his tongue darts out to lick it up.

“Alcohol has a higher threshold for quality, so it's generally more palatable. It usually means a higher budget for these things, but it's not as though I'm spending much on groceries.” He narrows his eyes at you, but you can't read his expression.

“Well go on,” he continues, and you tilt your head in confusion. “Ask the question that you really want to ask.” Your heart starts beating a little faster and he smirks. Gods, you really hate that he can read you like that. It would be nice to keep at least one emotion private.

“What does blood taste like?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's clear that he hears you. His smile widens just enough to show off his fangs.

“It depends on the person,” he replies just as casually as if you had asked him about his taste in music. “Some are sweeter, like a nice rich port, while others have a bit of a burn, like whiskey. However, you?” He places his glass on the table and stands, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. He crosses behind your chair and sweeps your hair to the side, lasciviously inhaling your scent behind your ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Yours is smooth with a hint of spice, like a fine aged brandy. But the finish has an addictive quality, like absinthe.” He nips lightly at the base of your neck without breaking skin.

“Such pretty words,” you exhale on a breathy moan, reaching a hand up behind you and running your fingers through his hair, pulling him toward you ever so slightly.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes into your ear, and you arch your back in your seat, panting. You can barely get out the “yes” before he sweeps you out of the chair and wraps your legs around his waist. He carries you into the kitchen, placing you on the counter and pressing your knees apart with his torso. You whine and the cool tile pressing into your ass reminds you of his touch. He slides one hand behind your head and the other around your waist, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

The initial pain surprises you every time, and your yelp is followed by his satisfied groan. You grip the back of his neck as he drinks, and you can feel the muscles working with each swallow. The feeling of your blood coursing through both of your bodies gets you high, knowing it's your blood that flushes his lips, cheeks, and ears. It's your blood flowing to his cock. The reminder of it makes you clench instinctively.

He pulls away just as you're teetering on the edge of passing out. He’s always panting after he feeds, his glasses slightly askew and a ravenous look in his eye that makes your mouth water. You pull him into a heated kiss, the metallic tang on his lips becoming a sensory reminder of the post-feeding bliss.

You pull him closer with your feet, aching just to feel him pressed against you. Your hands scramble against his back, tugging at his collared shirt. He’s wearing far too many layers and he hasn’t even blessed you with the sight of his gorgeous sculpted chest yet.

You slide a hand into the back of his collar, desperate for his skin, when your fingers brush over thick raised scar tissue. He pulls back faster than you do and your hands immediately go to cover your mouth.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t–” you begin but the pained look in his eye makes you stop short.

“No it's… it's fine. I've had those for a very long time. I… ah…” he stutters, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably, and you've never seen him so flummoxed.

“What are they from?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You're about to retract, tell him he doesn't need to answer, when he speaks quietly.

“They're from… the man who turned me. He kept me as a slave for 200 years. It’s something written in infernal, but I never found out what it said. And his death ensured I never would.” He speaks while looking down at the floor, his distant gaze indicating that he's somewhere else entirely.

“Astarion…” you breathe, and you cup his face in your hands. He smirks and snakes his arms around your waist; the mask is back on.

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” he says with a composed smile, “it was a very long time ago. I’m more concerned with tonight.” He moves to kiss your neck again but you put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No- well, I mean yes to tonight, but… let me take care of you,” you say softly, and his careful expression slips again.

“I- well if that’s what you want.” He crinkles his brow, unsure of what to make of your proposal.

“Is it what you want?” You stroke his cheek, and it suddenly feels like this is an entirely different man standing in front of you. Hesitant, vulnerable, his usual swaggering confidence replaced with an uncertain tenderness that makes your heart pound in a way that feels wholly unfamiliar with him.

“I’m not sure,” he says, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“We don’t have to,” you offer quickly, “we can just fuck up against a wall or something.” The joke breaks the tension and he lets out a little giggle.

“What do you have in mind?” He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and you ease off the counter and gently nudge him backwards toward his bedroom. He follows your lead, his doubtful look shifting into something of excitement and mischief. You guide him until the back of his knees hit the bed, and you push him to sit.

You straddle his lap and run your fingers through his silvery curls. You kiss along his jawline and down his neck, placing a particularly tender kiss on his bite scar. He exhales heavily, sliding his hands up your thighs and resting them on your lower back.

You begin carefully unbuttoning his vest, followed by his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants. You slide it down his shoulders and onto the bed behind him, letting your warm hands run over the cool planes of his skin. His eyes follow your movements carefully and you take your time, tracing over every divet, every freckle and mole. You delight in his gasp when your fingers dance over his navel and down to his belt buckle.

You slip off his lap and drop between his legs, your hands continuing their journey along his hips. You plant increasingly hungry kisses above his waistband as you remove his belt and unzip his pants. He leans back on his hands as his breathing quickens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

You’re struck with the irony that the last time you were between Astarion’s legs like this it was to get revenge, to make him feel flustered and speechless the way he always does to you. Now you have him, flustered and speechless, and all you want is to worship him, make him feel warm and safe.

You slide his pants down under his ass, pulling them all the way off so he’s sitting on his bed fully nude. You run your lips along his inner thigh as you palm his growing erection.

“Ah- wait,” he stammers and you immediately look up and pull back.

“Yes?” you ask, frozen by the fear that you’ve gone too far.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, nudging your cardigan off your shoulder. “All of you.”

It’s hard to believe that someone sitting naked in front of you can make you feel so exposed. You shiver as you drop the cardigan off your back, the sudden exposure to cool air making your nipples poke through the lacy top that Shadowheart gave you. You stand and he watches intently as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. His expression gives little away, but his cock doesn’t. By the time you’ve removed the black panties, thigh highs, and cami, it stands at full attention. His knees squeeze around your legs and his arms pull you in close to him, pressing his nose against your belly. You card your fingers through his hair and down to his chin, tilting his head upwards.

“Better?” you breathe, and he nods, his eyes round and wide. You bend down to kiss him, slow and languid, before dropping to your knees again. When you pull away his mouth stays open, suspended in the shape of your kiss.

You settle between his knees and lightly kiss the head of his dick. You flick your gaze upward, monitoring his expression as you lazily run your fingers along his shaft. His glasses balance on the tip of his nose as he looks down at you, transfixed by your ministrations. You open your lips slightly, not quite taking him into your mouth yet as you softly cup his balls in your hand. You can hear his breath growing ragged, and he rewards you with an almost inaudible moan when your tongue finally wets his cock.

You wrap your lips around his tip, gently working the underside with your tongue. You run your hands up his thighs, squeezing his hips as they buck into you. You take more of him in, the warmth of your mouth contrasting with the cool, sensitive skin. He groans and tangles his fingers in your hair, a gesture that feels closer to petting than pulling.

You pull your mouth off his cock, wrapping your hand around the now slick shaft. You run your thumb along the slit, and his responding shutter makes you smile.

“Ah- enjoying yourself?” he murmurs, unable to keep his voice steady. You look up at him and drag your tongue along his entire length.

“I am, are you?” you hum, taking him back into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. His leg quivers beside you, his toes curling inward.

“Mmph,” he grunts in assent, his hand twisting into your hair a little more. You slip your hands under his thighs and slide your mouth further down, letting him fill you up. His hips jerk, wanting to thrust into you, and you relax your jaw to let him. His little pants and disjointed moans send a jolt of heat down to your core, and you can feel yourself becoming wet with desire for him.

You reach down and slip your middle finger between your slick folds, your groan vibrating into him. He hisses and pulls you off his cock and into a fierce kiss. The two of you tumble backwards onto the bed, your hair encircling you like a curtain. You press your bodies together, the smoldering heat spreading into a raging wildfire. He lines himself up with your entrance as you continue your desperate assault on his lips. He slides in with ease and your cry into his mouth accompanies him bottoming out.

You push yourself up, bracing yourself on his chest as you grind into him. He plants his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your hair cascading down the length of your back. You increase the pace of your rolling hips, each breath growing more voiced as you approach your peak.

“Oh gods, Astarion,” you babble, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. He realizes you’re getting close, he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tight. He latches onto your nipple, flicking his tongue and sucking to send your pleasure to staggering heights. You arch your back into him as your arms hook over his shoulders, brushing your hands against those awful scars. Your hands splay across his back as if to say no one will ever hurt you like that again.

You pull his face to yours so that you can taste his lips as you crash over the edge. The kiss is broken up by your cries and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grunts in time with his pulsing seed. You stay still and connected as the waves of pleasure ebb and flow and finally settle. The only noise left in the room is both of your heavy panting, and the telltale sound of just your heart pounding.

His hands slide down your back as you carefully pull yourself off him and you shiver as his now-soft cock falls out of you. You kneel next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, and he reaches over to stroke your jaw.

“Thank you,” he hums softly, and you press another sweet kiss to his neck. His scar.

After a moment you let out a contented sigh, then you say, “Well, I should probably gather my things and go, then.” You begin to stand to dress, but his hand closes around your wrist. You turn to him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“Or you could… stay. If you want.” He looks up at you through smudged and sweaty glasses and a smile tugs at your lips.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you watch him shift uncomfortably with a question that he’s not used to answering.

“I want…” he begins, hesitant. “I want to watch last year’s Globe production of Much Ado About Nothing with you. You said you like that one, right?” Your ears grow hot as you realize the extent to which he actually paid attention to you, even before you were sleeping together.

“I do, yeah. One of his best,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you repeat his words back to him. That interaction feels like it was eons ago, when in fact it was less than a tenday.

He smirks, some of his confident charm seeping back into his demeanor. He scoots back on the bed until he’s resting against the headboard, and then he reaches out to you, inviting you to curl in next to him. You oblige, and he turns on the TV across from the bed, pulling up the pro-shot. You sink in next to him, appreciating how his chest cools your flushed cheek.

A single word gnaws at the back of your mind and you banish it quickly.

No, that’s the oxytocin talking.

It’s just been a long time since you’ve slept with someone more than once.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the gnawing grows more insistent.

…

Fuck.

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coffeesugarandsand · 4 months ago

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Fangs

-Part 2 of my previous work -Mature, blood drinking, Make-out, cursing -As you and Damon grow closer so does his hunger for you

You and Damon have gotten much closer since your night of shared trauma a couple weeks ago. So close that your sister, Elena is starting to worry, she doesn't trust Damon and surely doesn't trust him with you.

"Y/N you can't trust Damon, he's impulsive, you never know what his next move is," Elena says as she watches you dance around your room getting ready for the 60's Decades Dance.

"Dont care, Elena! Where are my boots?" You say spinning around slightly ignoring your overbearing sister. Elena sighs and points towards your door. You smile and put on your shoes, putting on your finishing touches.

"The only reason you dont trust Damon is because Stefan told you not to trust Damon, you can judge him without getting to know him," You say to Elena looking at yourself in the mirror, "You ready?"

She sighs once again but nods her head and you both head out, her retelling you the plan to draw out Klaus on the way out.

-------

You arrive at the dance immediately ditching Elena already screwing up the plan, deciding to actually have fun for a change.

The lights dim, changing the vibe of the room Instantly everyone started to dance, a mosh pit forming in the middle of the floor. You head over joining the pit of dancing teenagers.

After a few minutes of dancing, you feel a pair of eyes following your movements. You look up and see bloodshot blue eyes staring at you, Damon. You continue to dance still holding your eye contact, unable to look away.

He comes closer to you his eyes never leaving yours. As he comes closer you can see his fangs poking out of his smirk, making your heart thump, it feels like he's found his prey.

His hands find your hips as he slides himself in front of you, matching your rhythm, his forehead pressed against yours. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look directly at him. His thumb trails further up parting your lips before leaning down, lightly pecking your lips. He moves back from you briefly before leaning back down, kissing you more passionately.

The kiss continues until one of his fangs grazes your lip piercing it. He holds you tighter, letting out a groan as he tastes your blood. Damon's breath speeds up as he tries to control himself.

You pull away from him and decide to do something you probably shouldn't. You bring your hands up to the sides of his face pulling him down to your neck, encouraging him to give in.

Damon bites your neck, his left hand moving to your hair while his right trails farther down your hip, mouth attached like glue not wanting any of your blood to go to waste.

You gasp suddenly as your body slams into a locker in the hallway. You lean your head back in pleasure as well as fatigue as he continues to drain you.

Damon notices your legs starting to give out, hesitatingly releasing himself from your neck, and looking down at you. You look up at him blood dripping down his face and the same drunk-filled look in his eyes from a couple weeks ago.

You lean up, kissing him, tasting your own blood on his tongue. He taps your leg, signaling you to wrap your legs around him. He kisses you again when suddenly you hear a crack coming from Damon's neck, and he goes limp.

"Holy Shit!"

I look down in horror, instantly dropping to his side before looking up, to see a fanged blonde smiling down at you. Klaus.

Part 3??

for those who asked https://buymeacoffee.com/nutmegs12

#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #klaus mikaelson #tvd #the vampire diaries

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eddiesmunsxn · 10 months ago

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Your bleeding

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n was making dinner for her boyfriend matt. and of course, his two brothers, nick and chris. but what happens when she cuts herself on accident and doesn't notice until matt points it out.

warnings: blood. that's it

a/n: please bare with me as im new to this writing scheme. if it's bad or not good, please let me know, and i will do better. this is also rly short bc i have no ideas.

It was a Thursday night in the Sturniolo household. Nick, who is sitting on the couch editing Friday's new video, Chris drinking Pepsi as always, Matt sitting in the kitchen on his phone talking with his girlfriend y/n who was making dinner for them. Chris decided to go into the kitchen to see what his sister-in-law was making. "What's for dinner, I am starving." Y/n looked at him and grinned."Pasta, but not just any kind of pasta. It's my grandma's secret recipe. " She smiled at her boyfriend, who is now standing next to her. Matt kissed her forehead. "It smells amazing, baby." She smiles. "Can one of you stir the pasta? I need to cut up the tomatoes." Chris nods and stirs the noodles. Matt watches his girlfriend in awe as she cuts the tomatoes. "Hey, I was thinking. What if we go out on a date this weekend? We haven't done that in a while, " Y/n looks up, still cutting and raises her eyebrows. "A date huh, what kind of date are you thinking?" Matt chuckles. "Oh, I don't know, dinner? A movie, maybe get ice cream afterward." He looks down and sees blood. "Babe!" Y/n looks confused as she doesn't feel any pain,"Matt? What's the matter? Looks like you've seen a ghost, " Matt calls for Nick,"Nick! Nick, we need gauze and a lot of it!". Nick jumps up and runs to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he comes out with gauze, paper towels, and bandaids. "Here." Y/n then realized she had cut herself, looking down at the blood. "Oh my god. Oh my god." Matt."You're bleeding! Here, let's wash it with warm water." Chris looks sick as he has a weak stomach, and then passes faints, and Nick is cleaning up the mess.

After Y/n is bandaged up, they sit down and eat. She looks down at her finger or where the tip of her finger once was. "Man, I never thought I would slice the tip of my finger off." She says as she takes a bite of her food and looks at her finger. Chris looks at her. "Please don't talk about that. While I am eating. I already passed out, and I don't want to do it again." Nick slaps him across the back of his head. "He's joking. I'm glad you're ok."

Matt looks at his girlfriend and kissed her forehead. "Yeah, thankfully it wasn't worse." She smiles, thankful of her family around her.

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x yn

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imrllytootiredforthis · 2 years ago

Note

Do you have thoughts on himbo mingi? 😌(I want to breed him so bad)

i got lots of thoughts on himbo mingi-bc i too, want to breed him😌

poor boy doesn't know how to use his head all the time, it's a good thing he's so pretty.

at a bar or whatever else he's getting hit on by all of these people, but he doesn't realize it. he thinks they're just being friendly, biting their lips, eyes blatantly checking him out. one time, a woman even let her hands slide all over his body, down his chest and hips (he thought she was just a bit touchy-he's the same way🥺)

you leave him for a few minutes to grab the two of you drinks and you come back to him laughing with someone else-the girl almost sitting in his lap with how close she is, her hand resting on his bicep.

"mingi."

he looks up at you.

"mhm."

it's almost comical the way his eyes practically sparkle, his pupils heart-shaped. the adoration burning in his gaze apparent, almost overwhelming. puppy-dog like and adorable. the poor thing having no idea what's elicited the steel in your tone. his eyebrows furrow slightly and you can almost see the question mark floating above his head.

*sigh* it's a good thing he's so pretty.

"what's wrong?" he sounds almost sad now as he reaches for your wrist but you don't let him.

you know he'd never cheat on you, know that it would never even cross his mind. he's too obsessed by you, wrapped around your finger almost as much as you are his.

but it makes your blood boil seeing all of these people feeling him up, flirting with him all the while he's completely clueless.

the girl glares, clearly annoyed at the interruption as you pass him a cup.

"i have to go to the bathroom."

you turn on your heel and walk, knowing he's right behind you.

even as you lead him into a room that he's fairly (but not certainly) sure is not a bathroom. even as you lock the room behind you, crossing your arms against you chest as your foot taps on the ground.

you look unimpressed and the disappointment written across your face-it's enough to make a whimper build up in the back of his throat.

"what'd i do?"

he's so fucking clueless, it's dumb. so innocent and pretty. all beauty no brains.

you only sigh frustratedly, your hands flying to his shoulders, pressing down enough for him to fall to his knees in front of you. "what'd i do?" you mock, watching him look up at you like a kicked puppy.

anger flashes in your eyes and he knows he's in for it.

you reach down, grabbing his jaw in your hand, cupping it almost gently if not for the nails digging ever so slightly into his skin. "you're fucking mine. you hear that baby? mine." you spit, hot and angry and standing over him, fuck. he can't think properly like this.

he whimpers, hips almost imperceptibly grinding against your leg. enough for you to catch though, enough for you to press your leg harder between his spread open ones.

"say it. say you're mine, not that stupid bitch's you were practically fucking out there, what were you gonna let her do? jerk you off in the middle of the party? are you that much of a whore mings?"

he doesn't have the clarity to properly deny it, only crying out as he moves faster and faster, trying to get off. shaking his head no, muttering pleas and apologies against your thigh as he hides his face against you.

"not her, not her, i-i promise, only-only you." he pants.

you sigh, fingers twirling through the strands of his hair. enjoying the way he desperately humps you like a puppy in heat, sounding like one as well.

he's so cute, you guess you can forgive him-just this once though. "good thing you're so pretty mingles, who knows where you'd be without it."

#inbox💌#i'll do another one where he's getting bred if you guys want😫#cause this already ended up being a bit long for a drabble #hard thoughts #dom reader #sub ateez #ateez hard thoughts #ateez x reader #ateez smut #mingi x reader #sub mingi #mingi smut #himbo mingi supremacy

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oatmilk-vampire · 1 year ago

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mdni 18+ part 2(technically prequel)

When Eddie Munson came back from the dead, it didn't phase Robin too much. After all, it wasn’t the first time someone in Hawkins had seemed to come back from the dead. Just look at Will!

It was an accident. She let herself into Steve's place with the spare key he had given her. In her defense he wasn't answering the phone!

She only meant to walk in on Steve, she'd heard running water and didn’t care what she might see in the bathroom. He was practically her brother and she needed to demand ask him to give her a ride to the bookstore, she'd gotten word from Dustin via walkie-talkie that Vicki is there and she thought it'd be a great meet-cute if the two of them reached for the same book, which she would definitely make happen.

But then she walked in on Eddie when he was brushing his teeth, brushing his fangs. Now that wasn’t normal.

She had a momentary freak out while Eddie desperately tried to calm her down with his placating gestures and toothpaste foam dripping down his chin.

Eventually she heard his words and came to the conclusion that if Eddie had been back for a month already and none of their friends were dead, and the news hadn't reported any strange animal attacks, she must be safe. He must not be a bad vampire.

That didn't stop her from pushing her way to Steve's bedroom to find him peacefully napping without a hair out of place.

She closes his door much more carefully than she threw it open.

Steve may be fine but that didn't stop her from threatening Eddie saying she'd find out what exactly would kill a vampire if he even thought of snacking on anyone she cared about. Especially her platonic soulmate Steve.

They'd survived too much just for Steve to die by way of juicebox.

He assured her he'd never hurt anyone, especially Steve.

She thinks she believes him. After all, Steve and Eddie had seemingly gotten closer since Eddie returned from the dead. She wasn't sure if Steve just finally found another friend his own age, or if he may finally be giving into the glaringly obvious bi-tendencies he had. Either way, he hasn't seemed like he's been in any danger lately. He actually seemed the most happiest she's ever seen him. Maybe it's because he hasn't been getting rejected by every young woman in Hawkins? Then again, she hasn't seen him flirt either... Unless it was when Eddie came to the store to pick up a movie... Hmm.

When she realizes Steve won't be able to drive her she leaves in a huff, deciding she'd just ask Nancy to take her to the bookstore. Eddie offered, but she declined.

If Eddie was there while Steve was sleeping, then he must be expecting him to be there when he awakens. Whatever the nature of their relationship may be, she didn’t want to jeopardize Steve finally being happy.

What she didn’t know was Eddie had been snacking on Steve just fifteen minutes before she'd barged in and was washing the evidence from his mouth. He'd been snacking on Steve for just over two weeks now.

That's how their little friends with benefits arrangement began. Eddie got to eat without needing to hunt or steal from the blood blank, and Steve got off.

It's not Steve's fault he liked being drank from, liked the way Eddie’s lips felt on his neck and fangs buried in his skin.

Originally it was an innocent offer on Steve's part. He was more concerned it would hurt the way the truth serum injection did when he was being interrogated by the Russians a few years ago, or like the sharp bite of the demobats themselves; but instead of fainting when Eddie latched on, Steve popped a boner.

Maybe with all of the concussions he's endured he got a couple screws knocked loose, maybe that's why he gets horny just thinking about Eddie drinking from him.

Eddie doesn't mind it one bit. Sure he was worried with that initial gasp Steve let out, but now that he knows it was a good kind of breathlessness he drinks to his heart's content and allows Steve to rut against him to his heart's content. If Steve doesn't finish while Eddie is drinking he'll give him a handjob until he does. It's a pretty good arrangement even if it does leave Eddie hard in his jeans.

It's not that Eddie doesn't want to do more with Steve, he just doesn't trust himself to drink from Steve and be intimate at the same time; and he's too nervous to just try to be intimate with him sans feeding.

What if Steve isn't into Eddie like that? What if he's really just in it for the assisted masturbation and the moment Eddie makes a move this'll all end?

Eddie doesn't want that. He can't. He can't go back to drinking the gamey blood of animals that leaves him feeling more sick than nourished, or acting like a felon to score pints to stock his fridge, which he can't really do either since he refuses to tell Uncle Wayne in fear of sending the poor man into cardiac arrest.

Plus Steve is the best thing he's ever tasted. Better than any sweet, or any food eaten after getting the munchies. Steve is delectable. He's the best high. Plus Eddie likes being able to give Steve his own little high. An orgasm only he could give him. It does wonders for the ego.

Eddie wants more from Steve but he's too selfish to risk losing him for the better of them.

It's okay, though, because he gets a part of Steve no one else will ever have and that's enough for him.

For now.

#i dreamt this #👀#monster fucker steve am i right?#sips coffee #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steddie ficlet #vampire eddie munson

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i-heart-yellowstone · 3 months ago

Text

17 - Awkward Family Dinner

Part 18

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35

The evening came sooner than I expected and I figured it would be an interesting dinner considering John had freed Summer and put her on house arrest here. Leaving her and Beth to most likely get into it sometime tonight. John was at the head of the table. Kayce and I took the chairs on the end. Carter was sitting next to Faith who had Rip on her other side and Beth beside him. Summer ended up being close to the governor like his daughter. Gator entered the room sitting down multiple trays of meat noticing Summer sitting at the table. "Oh I'm sorry ma'am. If I had known I would have made you something else."

"Give her what we feed the horses, Gator." Beth scoffed glaring across the table at the girl.

Biting my lip I forked some food on each of the twins plates so they were distracted with eating rather than watching what was about to happen. "Gator she'll be here for 6 months so could you make something that she can eat in the future?" John asked the cook.

"So uh what we have prepared here is an esuremain of game. There on the left vension-"

Summer interrupts him. "Which is to say a deer you shot that was just minding its own business."

"Yes that's right...beside that we'll have roast duck-" He started again but it didn't matter.

She asked a question intertwining her hands together. "Do you realize duck's mate for life?"

"If it helps I killed them both-"

She scoffed as I covered my mouth with my hands trying to not laugh at how ridiculous she was being. "It doesn't make it better. It makes its twice as bad. And what is this little creature that can't even feed one person?"

Kayce glanced at me then shifted his gaze to Faith and Carter who were just watching like the rest of us. "Actually I serve four per person.."

"So you kill four and what is this mystery?" Summer points towards the plate in front of her.

Gator slumped his shoulders and I felt bad for him that she wasn't being a very good guest. Because she could go back to prison if she liked. "Uh that's a dove."

"Dove, the bird of peace." Summer raised a brow. “You’re serving the fucking bird of peace for dinner.”

Kayce chuckled while taking a drink. “Dove is pretty good.” I throw my head back laughing because of how painfully awkward this whole dinner conversation was.

Beth sat down on her napkin, eyeing the girl. "Summer, let's you and I take a walk. Maybe I can educate you on our different ways of life."

"Our different cultures.." She snarled back letting her lead her out of the house.

Tate reached forward alongside my husband taking some of the duck from the plate. I forked some deer on mine about to take a bite until Faith showed me her empty plate. "Can I have seconds?"

I covered my hand with my mouth trying to conceal my laughter. “You’re just like your father, Faithy Rae.”

"How about you let others get some first you two." Kayce chuckled through a bright grin.

Rip focused his attention back on his boss asking softly. "Sir, do you want me to go after them?"

"I think that's a terrible idea, Rip." John chuckled, shaking his head, getting some meat on his plate. I couldn't hold in my laughter anymore so I just start hitting my fist on the table hearing him tell Gator I'll have four.

Carter watched Faith raise her hand asking like she was in school. "Is there any cake tonight?" Everyone at the table just smiled and laughed at her innocent question.

"Yes granddaughter, Gator is making dessert." Her grandfather replied as Rip got up to go check on them outside. When he came back both girls were beaten pretty badly and you could see blood on their faces. Summer ended up just eating some mashed potatoes until John returned with a first aid kit.

After dinner I slowly sat down in the porch swing just looking up at the stars in peaceful silence until the front door gently closed. Turning my head in that direction I smiled seeing my husband who sits down beside me. "I was looking for you."

"Were you already missing me after we had dinner with your family?" I smiled up at him running my fingers through his hair since he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment.

“Just a little bit, Lissa Rae.” He sighed enjoying the feeling where he rests his head on my shoulder intertwining my freehand with his left.

Running my hand up the side of his face he leaned into my palm. “Awe poor Kayce.”

“Don’t judge me, woman.” He sent me a small glare. I crossed my fingers that tomorrow would just be about us and the family. Riding horses and doing what we loved and teaching that spirit into our children. "If Carter and Faith try to share a tent I'm gonna punch him."

"He's a kid, Kayce." I scoffed at not taking him seriously.

He lifted his head up not changing his facial expression meaning he was dead serious about this. "I ain't kidding darlin'. I'm not comfortable with the idea."

"Have you forgotten that we got into much more trouble than they ever have. I mean we got arrested, drank underage and you got me pregnant in high school. I think you’re worrying far too much about them." I replied, tucking hair out from in front of his eyes where he nodded softly yes.

We allowed the familiar silence to surround us again just watching for any shooting stars. He wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me to sit on his lap. Laying my head against his chest he put his chin on top of my head until I started giggling. "I can't believe our kids were eating like wild dogs. Tearing all that meat apart so easily."

"Yeah that was pretty fun. Summer would have probably thrown up at the sight. Don't you think Lissa Rae?" Kayce chuckled with a huge smile and my heart swooned seeing him happy again.

Lifting my head up I softly kissed him. He leans into it resting one hand to cradle my cheek in his hand. "I agree with that, cowboy. I wonder who they got that instinct from hmm?"

"Don't act like you wouldn't tear up my mother's biscuits exactly like that." He teased me while twirling some loose strands of my hair in between his fingers.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I smirked when he leaned forward kissing me deeply. I moaned into the kiss, twisting my fingers in his brown curls. But he broke the kiss before we got too heated and ended up making love tonight. "Let's get to bed darlin'. We've got a long ride on horseback tomorrow."

“Oh hang on. Someone’s calling me.” I put my phone up to my right ear hearing my sister’s voice.

“Alissa, are you free tomorrow?”

I looked at my husband confused. “Uh no. I’m going to bring down cattle for the branding. Why is something wrong at our ranch?”

“The lawyers are coming up tomorrow. Mom has to sign over the ranch to us after what happened to daddy.”

Bringing my freehand to my mouth I blinked through some heavy tears having to remember what happened when our families were attacked a year ago. “I - um - can you hold them off until I come back in a few days. This is really important for both our ranches since I’ll be helping brand our cattle too.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Just be safe out there.” My sister responded before I hung up the phone.

“Yeah, you guys two.” Kayce gently touched my arm before I flung my body against his sobbing heavily before I had even looked him in the eye. He knew what had happened during the family attack had changed me and my family for the rest of our lives.

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tsukasalvr · 1 year ago

Note

hihi I'm starting to hyperfix on tbhk again and the lack of tbhk writers on here is criminally low :,)

sooo could you do teru minamoto x supernatural!reader but the reader is a type of supernatural that's like a vampire but not really like she needs blood and flesh to survive but she can like be in light. maybe she blends into the school to try to regain any type of humanity and teru notices and thinks shes gonna harm a student but when he confronts her she confesses that she just wants to fit in. So teru kinda just drags her around to make sure she doesn't go bonkers and it turns out she actually is nice and not malicious but still seems extremely weak from the lack of blood to maybe teru offers his arm to drink from and he realizes that not all supernaturals are bad

I'm tried while writing this so sorry if the plot seems to complicated or something

also I dont mind if its headcanons or a one shot whichever fits you're schedule <333

AN: FRRRR like the tbhk writers rn are doing amazingggg!!!!!! But there’s literally so few of them and idk if I would consider myself an active tbhk writer cus I’m so inconsistent with my works LMAO but I do have a lot of tbhk works so I guess I’m pretty good

supernatural!vampire!reader

Anime/fandom: Tbhk

Character: Teru Minamoto

Warnings: I don’t proofread

A/n: I love girls and I love girls girls bless all the girls

Tbhk masterlist | Main masterlist

Teru Minamoto

It’s one thing that you’re a supernatural, but it’s another that you’re also a vampire which makes you an even more danger to other students

He watched you sneakily, hoping to catch you alone, but you’re always hanging around other people smiling and laughing that it makes him curious on what’s your motive. Are you getting close to these people so you can feed on them later? But he hesitates on that thought with how real your smile looks, as if you really do enjoy hanging around others and don’t want to feed on them

It’s hard to catch to you alone and is only able to find you alone when it’s the end of the school day, you looked at him worried and explain your situation on how you don’t want to feed on others and just want to be a normal student and how if he wanted, he can watch until he believes her

Teru doesn’t know why he decides to believe and trust you, he’s never hesitated like this. So the next day he never strays far away from you and it isn’t till a week later where he finally believes you but still wants to watch you just for the safety of others, which you agree with

Teru can’t help but want to smile whenever he sees you and even though he knows it’s wrong, it doesn’t take long until the both of you become a couple and he sees how tired you actually are and how you try to hide it but it only seems to get worse every day

He gets worried and without thinking offers his arm and neck for you bite on so you drink some of his blood. But even after he realizes what he said, he doesn’t go back on what he says and reassures you it’s okay and although your hesitant, you agree and at least once a week, Teru lets you feed on him a little and will ask if raw meat will work the same if he isn’t available

Although Teru thinks it feels weird and can’t help but blush whenever you bite him, it’s all worth it to see you better

#tbhk imagine #tbhk headcanons #tbhk x y/n #tbhk x reader #jshk headcanons #jshk x y/n #jshk x reader #teru x reader #teru headcanon #teru imagines #teru minamoto x reader #minamoto teru

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ottosuricatoblog · 1 year ago

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"I need you."

Part 1 to this here

Link to my masterlist

Author: I'm really enjoying writing about these two. I hope you like this one, I put a lot of effort in it. If so, please do let me know.

Warning: smut, teasing, oral sex (her receiving), language

When Y/N hears the knocks on her door hours later, her stomach does a little flip. Why is she so nervous? She had been close to losing her virginity to Sandor in a storehouse that same day. Him visiting in her chambers shouldn't make her nervous. Yet, she can't help it. The anticipation is killing her.

She walks to the door, opening it for him. He's not wearing his armor anymore, although his sword is still hanging on his hip. He smells like soap and like, well, like Sandor. His smell is intoxicating.

Sandor couldn't stop thinking about what happened in the storehouse. She kissed him. She would have let him have her. She was enjoying herself. Why the hell would Y/N Stark want to be with him? Or even near him?

When she opens the door, he doubts she's ever looked more beautiful. Her hair is loose, still a bit wet from her bath. She's wearing some kind of night gown, which permits him to see her legs. He feels heat come to his face. He's blushing? He doesn't remember one fucking time when he's blushed. What is she doing to him?

"Come in." She says with a shy smile.

He steps into the room, hearing the door closing behind him. He suddenly feels slightly uncomfortable, not knowing what to do.

"Do you want a drink?" She asks, motioning for a little table on the corner.

"Aye, thanks." He mumbles.

She pours 2 cups of wine, handing one to him. Their hands brush against each other slightly, which makes her blush. Well, at least he's not the only one.

They both look away, taking a sip of their drink. After a few seconds, both of them try to start a conversation.

"Are you..." He says.

"Do you like..." She means to ask.

The fact that both of them try to do it at the same time makes her laugh, eliciting a smile from him.

"Why is it so weird?" She says, putting the drink away and sitting on the bed. "We were practically making babies a few hours ago."

This makes him laugh, and he sits next to her. "I don't know." He says. "We don't have to do anything." He continues. "If you've changed your mind, I can just..."

She interrupts him by holding his face in her hands. "I have not changed my mind, Sandor." She says, looking directly into his eyes. "I meant everything I said earlier. I've never felt this way before. I want you. I like you. And I don't care about what everyone else might think or say. We'll figure it out."

"Okay." He says, caressing her hand on his face.

"So, are you gonna kiss me, or do I have to do everything myself?" She asks with the smirk he loves.

He smiles, leaning into her and kissing her softly. She hums into the kiss, pressing herself against him. Following some instincts she didn't know she had, she bits his lip.

"Fuck, Y/N." He groans, feeling all the blood in his body head south. He kisses her harder, feeling one of her hands on his chest.

When they need to break the kiss to breathe, he stands up to remove his sword from his hip. Once he's put it on the floor, he takes her hand, moving her to the center of the bed, positioning himself on top of her and using his hands to avoid crashing her.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" He asks softly.

She shakes her head, grabbing his head to kiss him again. He can't help but groan when he feels her tongue against his and her hips pushing up.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He whispers against her lips. "So fucking gorgeous."

He moves his mouth towards her neck, kissing her while she runs her hands through his hair. He gently bites her collarbone, which makes her moan. He hums against her skin.

"Sandor, please." She whimpers, thrusting her hips up. He uses his hand to keep her still.

She's not sure what's gotten into her. What's this man doing to her?

"What do you want, little wolf?" He says with a smirk, holding himself up to look at her.

"More." She moans. "I need more."

He groans, motioning for her to hold her arms up so he can take off her gown. He takes a minute to look at her, getting even harder at the sight. She's so fucking hot.

He feels her tugging at his shirt. "Off." She says.

He smiles. "Your wish is my command, my lady." He hears her laugh as he takes his shirt off.

She caresses his chest. He's so big, so masculine.

He lays on top of her again, letting his hips press into hers for the first time. This makes her moan loudly, arching her back. He can feel how wet she is through his pants. His mouth moves to her nipple, sucking gently on it, while his hand moves to the other breast. The feeling of his beard on her makes her tremble, moaning again. She never thought she would be loud, but he seems to be pulling all the right strings.

The need between her legs is killing her, and she moves his hands to his backside, pulling him into her. His cock rubs against her, which makes them both moan.

"Fuck, love." He groans. "I'm trying to get you as wet as possible so it doesn't hurt too much. You're not helping." He's having a hard time restraining himself.

"I've never been this wet, Sandor." She moans. "I need you. Do something."

He laughs, moving and laying next to her crotch, between her legs. "This should feel good, little wolf."

He pecks her clit, moving his middle finger to his entrance. She squeals with pleasure. She's so wet. He introduces his finger slowly as he tastes her. Gods, she's so tight. He starts moving his finger in and out, sucking on her pearl at the same time.

"Oh gods." She moans, arching her back.

He uses his other hand to keep in place. When he feels his finger move more easily, the pushes in a second one. It's so good she wants to cry.

"Sandor." She whimpers. She feels like she's going to explode. "I'm going to..."

He groans, feeling her tighten around his fingers. "Come for me, Y/N." He says against her, sucking furiously on her clit.

She moans loudly as she comes, and Sandor keeps sucking to prolong her pleasure. When he feels her inner spasms stop, he withdraws his fingers, kissing her pearl one last time before settling next to her.

She's still catching her breath when she feels him beside her, smiling at her.

"Can you do that every day?" She sighs.

He laughs, stroking her hair and kissing her softly, so she can taste herself on his mouth. He feels her hand on his crotch, which makes him groan loudly.

"I want you inside me." She says, kissing him passionately. "You're so hard."

He stands up for a moment to take off his pants, standing naked before her. She drops her mouth open.

"How is that..." She points at his dick. "supposed to fit inside me?"

He looks at her amused, positioning himself on top of her again. "It will fit." He assures her. "It'll hurt at first, but it'll get better, I promise."

Her face remains shocked, and he whispers. "We don't need to..."

"No, I want to." She says, caressing his face. "Just be gentle."

He nods, kissing her. "I'll go slow. Tell me if it's too much."

She nods, touching his muscular chest.

He grabs one of her legs and puts it around his waist, opening her up. He grabs his dick, positioning it at her entrance.

He slowly pushes in as he kisses her passionately, trying to distract her from the pain. When he finds resistance, he uses one of his hands to pinch her nipple, while the other moves to her clit, pressing into it as he keeps pushing in. She's so tight he has to breath in order not to come there and then.

It's a new feeling for her, but it's not as bad as she thought. She knows Sandor is trying to make it better for her. When the pressure starts to disappear, turning into pleasure, she moves her hips up, motioning for him to move.

"I'm okay." She says against his lip. "Move, please."

He groans as he starts moving slowly, trying really hard to be as gentle as possible. "You feel so good, Y/N." He moans. "So fucking tight."

Since the pain is all gone by now, she decides to flip him over so he's lying on his back, his cock still inside her.

"Fuck, little wolf." He groans at the sight. "Fuck me."

Feeling empowered, she starts to move her hips up and down, making both of them moan. His hands move to her hips to guide her, while hers rest on his chest.

After all the teasing, he's not going to last long, so he moves his thumb to her clit. He plants his feet on the bed, thrusting up. The feeling of his finger on her plus his cock inside her becomes too much, making her come again.

"Sandor." She shouts, panting as he fucks her through her orgasm.

Feeling her pussy clenching around his cock, he speeds up, his own orgasm reaching him. He grunts as he empties himself inside her.

She lays on his chest, and he runs his hands up and down her back, both coming down from their highs.

When their breathing is back to normal, he picks her up and settles her beside him, kissing her softly. She hums into the kiss, caressing his chest.

"It was amazing." He says against her mouth. "You're amazing." Who is this person and what had she done with Sandor Clegane? He doesn't think he had ever called someone amazing.

She kisses him again, starting to feel sleepy. "I..." She starts, but a yawn interrupts her.

He smiles at her. "Sleep." He says. "We'll figure it out tomorrow."

She nods, cozying up beside him. "Night." She mumbles.

He kisses her head, embracing her. "Good night, little wolf."

@broadsdrinkwhisky since you asked for this I thought I'd mention you!!

Next part

#rory mccann #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane x you

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sapphic-woes · 1 year ago

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Can't help but think about a Vampire!Tav x Karlach... so part 1 of this idea :) pardon the lack of quality haven't done this for a while.

Vampire!Tav x Karlach:

You're one of Astarion's siblings, and let's say here that the rite simply Does Not Exist and we just gotta kill Cazador cuz he's already bad enough as is. The scars are indeed a shitty, Raphael style poem.

You and Astarion are basically double trouble, absolute menaces, downright diabolical together...but then Halsin comes along and ruins everything.

Astarion is...good? Suddenly? Or at least, he tries to be. Because Halsin is as good as people get, and for once...it's actually affecting Astarion.

And ugh. You hate it.

He's all smiles and rainbows now. Giggling like a lovesick idiot. You pity him for looking like such a fool. Doesn't he know how easy it is to string someone along? How easy it was to hand them over to Cazador and then just...forget them? How little love actually meant?

At least, that's what you tell yourself when you watch them being together. In reality, you're jealous of Astarion as much as you are a teeny tiny bit happy.

What could it be like? Loving someone just...because? To finally feel safe around another person? Protected? Cared for?

Astarion doesn't look afraid anymore, whereas you can't go a day without hearing Cazador's voice ordering you around. To sit up straight, to know your place, to never dare to drink the blood of a another–

"Soldier? Mm it's not even morning yet... Huh? Hey, easy-shit–easy there soldier! If you need to, uh, eat? Wait hang on, it's more like drinking isn't it? Well, you know what I mean! What I'm trying to say is, if you need blood..."

Your band of misfits had been hurrying to Baldurs Gate like maniacs, leaving you little time to feed. Sure, you caught your occasional animal, but unlike Astarion, you didn't have a humanoid blood bank willing to be your donor. You'd been hungry for days, however, you still thought you had everything control.

"...could ya ask before you try to take a bite outta my neck?"

Coming out of your hunger induced daze to find a surprised Karlach underneath you was...alarming, to say the least.

Not because of the position–she was warm and so fucking firm underneath your skin, sharply contrasting your cold, undead body. You nearly wanted to melt into her arms.

When was the last time you'd experienced warmth apart from blood and tears? Let alone the warmth of another person?

But this wasn't a time to loose focus. Karlach has already warned Astarion when your secret identities had been revealed. She'd wring your neck for actually trying to bite her now. Sure, you were strong–buy you'd be a fool to think you had a chance against the tiefling.

You're frozen in panic so long that Karlach begins to move, slowly trying to prop herself up with her elbows. She's trying to make sure you don't fall off her...

Though at the realization, her efforts are in vain as you lurch yourself away in horror.

Shit, shit, shit–

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I wasn't in my right mind. I swear I would never... I-I know you said to keep our teeth to o-ourselves..."

Your dead heart pounds, and you're certain she'll snap you in two after this. Why couldn't it have been Gale? Or even Wyll? At least with them you had the chance of survival. With a barbarian like Karlach?

This time, you really were going to die.

You squeeze your eyes shut when she finally rises from her bed and stalks toward you. Slow, purposeful steps. Her eyes are troubled, and you can't fathom why.

That is until she stops you and softly speaks.

"I thought you'd been looking a little tired these days. I shoulda brought it up early, but I know you like your privacy. Y/N..."

There's a beat of silence, and then everything is sweet. Mouthwatering. The scent of blood invades your senses. It's good. So good.

Your head snaps up, and Karlach has her knees bent, thumb out like she's telling you 'good job!' However, what catches your eyes is the cut on it–dripping blood onto the dirt between you two.

"I don't mind sharing...if you don't mind the heat."

It's an amusing sight for Karlach, you're sure, but you'd abandoned your pride long ago.

Well, more like 5 minutes ago–but can you blame a girl when she's starving?

You suck on her thumb like her blood is holy, eager to satiate your hunger. Karlach shivers, and you swear she grits her teeth, but you can't stop.

Her blood is intense, like chugging molten lava straight down your throat. Yet it doesn't actually burn. It tingles, it warms, it... rejuvenates you. Was this what it meant to drink from a thinking creature? Or was Karlach simply the best meal you'd ever had...?

#karlach x tav #karlach x reader #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 karlach #i dunno what im doing be nice ok #been months....

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months ago

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Bonded: Part 5

That's What You Get For Loving Me

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This chapter was a pain in my butt, but I think it's finally ready for public eyes. Also, there's only one more chapter of this one, so enjoy it while you can!

Special thanks to @ccab and @atleastpleasetelephone for helping me work out some kinks (not the good kind).

Get caught up: Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also they're vampires so blood, biting, blood drinking, and Lisa Marie is really ill

Word count: ~2.9k

“My baby girl is gonna die, isn't she?”

You lay together in silence and the thought hits him that at least he'll have you when it happens.

******

You stay with Elvis through the end of his Vegas engagement, splitting your time between his suite, his shows, and the hospital. After about three days, he convinces you to quit your job and move into his suite with him. Honestly, it doesn't take much convincing to get you to do it. If it weren't for Lisa Marie's illness, you would be wrapped in a blissful blanket of love together. You're both excited to have someone to feed from regularly, somehow sustaining each other without the need for any humans. And the sex is phenomenal every time, so for the most part, you're happy.

Still, you both spend a lot of time trying to research and find a way to help Lisa Marie. You pore over books about healing, trying to figure out if there's something you can do. You try several different things, but nothing works.

When his Vegas shows end, he assumes you'll accompany him to Graceland, and you do because what else would you do? One afternoon you're laying in bed together still naked from a passionate session of lovemaking when he has an idea.

“What about Mary?”

“What about her?” You're not sure where he's going with this.

“Would she know about something to help Lisa Marie?”

“Maybe, but I'm not sure.” You sit in deep thought for a while before it hits you like a ton of bricks. Why haven't you thought of it before?! “I bet my mother knows something!”

He looks at you funny, like he needs to say something but isn't sure it's okay to say. Finally, he breaks down and just asks.

“Your mother is alive?”

“No, I guess I should clarify. I call the woman who turned me my mom. She's very motherly. But she was a healer for her people before she was turned! She knows all kinds of ancient wisdom. I haven't seen her in a long time, though.” He sits up and looks at you seriously.

“If you think she can help, we should talk to her.”

“We'll have to take a trip to the mountains. She doesn't own a phone.” He lays back down and pulls you in close to him.

“I'll charter a plane. We'll go tonight.”

******

His bodyguards are reluctant to let him go anywhere without them, but he reminds them that he'll be fine by extending his fangs. Besides, it's not like you're going anywhere with a lot of people.

Once you land and get a car, you begin your journey up into the mountains. It's been a while, but you still remember how to get to her house. For the most part, you ride in silence through the tall trees, both of you nervous for how this encounter might turn out. When you pull up to the rusty old gate, Elvis shuts the car off and looks at you.

“This is the closest I'll ever get to meeting your family. Should I be nervous?” You laugh a little.

“No, you handled Mary okay. Ama is only around 400 years old, so she's much more lenient. She'll be surprised to see a male vampire, though. I know she had a hand in eradicating them.”

“Eradicating them?!”

“They had become too dangerous and out of control. They weren't all like you.” Elvis thinks of the times he's almost fully drained women unintentionally, the near-cruelty with which he's treated them at times, and nods. Maybe he would be dangerous if he wasn't himself.

At the door, you knock on the ivy-covered wood and wait for a bit. Before too long, a small brown woman with long black braids opens the door and Elvis sighs, assuming you have the wrong house. But instead, you throw yourself into her arms.

“Mother.” She holds you comfortably, despite being shorter than you. After a few seconds, you pull back and turn to introduce Elvis. He nods and smiles, secretly hoping she'll assume he's human. It's better to be considered a child than a threat. Instead, she purses her lips.

“You two better come inside.” He follows you into the cozy room with a wood-burning stove almost in the center. She gestures for you both to have a seat on a small, plush couch and then settles herself in a rocking chair. “So you've made yourself a male vampire companion.”

You shake your head vehemently. Her tone indicates that this disappoints her.

“No! I didn't make him to be my companion. I just… made him…” You’re struggling to articulate exactly why you turned Elvis into a vampire. In all honesty, other than because he asked, you don't really have a reason.

“I knew you were a risk. Always weak around human men, refusing to kill them when necessary.” She stares coldly at Elvis, who bristles defensively in response. Without thinking, you put your hand on his knee and feel him relax a little. When she catches the interaction, she inhales sharply. “And you've bonded with him!”

“No! No I didn't!” She shakes her head.

“Don't lie to me, child. I can smell it on both of you-” Something snaps inside of Elvis and he yells.

“Yes! I'm a vampire. I made her do it. And yes, we are bonded. That was my idea too. I'm evil. Can we move on?” And then he gets quiet and looks at you. “Every second you sit here talking is another second that we lose Lisa Marie.”

You nod slowly, resisting the urge to kiss him. But Ama watches the way you look at each other and softens a bit.

“Who is Lisa Marie?” Elvis turns back to her.

“She's my daughter. She's 3 and she's dying. I don't know what to do.” His voice catches on the last part and you take his hand, squeezing gently.

“I'm not sure what you think I can do.” She holds her hands up like she has nothing to offer.

“Weren't you a healer?” You ask, worried that you've come all this way for nothing.

“I was, but this is- wait.” Ama leans forward in her chair. “Were you a vampire when she was conceived?”

Elvis looks at you, almost embarrassed about the fact that he has a child with another woman, but you know he's married. It's not a shock that his child has a different mother.

“Yes.” Ama laughs and leans back with her hand on her forehead. You and Elvis look at each other perplexed. She sits up and speaks quietly.

“She’s half-vampire and will likely turn fully when she becomes a woman. She needs blood.” Elvis stands up, excitedly, dragging you with him.

“What do you mean?!” Ama rises slowly and smiles.

“She is part of you, part vampire. The reason her body hasn't healed is because it needs blood, your blood, to come back to health. Give her just a little of your blood over a series of days and she will be fine.” Elvis laughs loudly as the tears start to stream down his cheeks. For a split second, it hits you that his daughter will probably be a vampire too. He obviously hasn't realized what this might mean and you're not about to tell him right now. Instead, you push that thought away and focus on the fact that she will, in fact, survive.

“That's why she hasn't… oh my God. It's so simple.” He can hardly make words, he's so excited and relieved. Your eyes fill with tears too and it doesn't take long for him to wrap you fully in his arms and kiss you. “Oh God, honey. We can help her!”

He lets go of you just long enough to turn and hug Ama. Her eyes are wide with shock at how tender and loving he seems with you, about his daughter, and even with his arms around her.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She pats him on the back gently. When he pulls away, she grabs his face in both hands.

“You be good to her, okay? You seem different than the others. You be good to her or you'll have me to answer to.” He nods, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I love her, ma'am. I'll take care of her.” She moves her hands away, nodding.

“Good.”

******

On the plane, Elvis’s leg bounces with nervous energy. You're sitting across from him on the small private jet. There's a stewardess somewhere, but he got annoyed and compelled her to stay away. So it's just the two of you for the next hour or so.

The thought enters your mind again that Lisa Marie will probably be a vampire someday. You look at Elvis and decide this isn't the time to talk about it. You need a distraction and so does he.

“Hey, baby?” You ask quietly and he looks up at you like he's forgotten you're there.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna feed?” He seems to be considering it for a bit before he shakes his head.

“No, honey, I'm okay.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and walk over to him.

“You're really not.” He pulls you down into his lap and buries his face in your hair. You stroke the back of his head and whisper. “C’mon, baby.”

He grunts as you expose your neck to him. It's true he hasn't fed in a couple of days. The tantalizing smell of your blood is so tempting that his fangs emerge and he moans softly. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels it start to harden at the thought of having you in more ways than one. But he's flooded with guilt at the same time, thinking about his own pleasure when his daughter might die. You anticipate what he's thinking and murmur.

“Elvis, I know Lisa is still sick, but there's nothing we can do about it on this plane.” He realizes you're right and pulls your lips down to his, letting his tongue push past your fangs to explore your mouth. The kiss heats up quickly as he begins to pull at your clothes.

“Need you, honey.” He whispers in your ear as you whimper and grind your ass on him a little bit. You feel his erection and put your hand on him over his pants. He groans softly. “You wearin’ panties, honey?”

“Yes.” You moan into his mouth.

“Take ‘em off.” Without another thought, you stand up and obey, sliding your panties down your legs. He drags his hand up the inside of your thigh and runs his fingers through your folds. “Oh, baby. Feels like you need it too.”

“I do… need you so bad baby…” You whimper. He grunts again and pushes his middle finger up into you, pumping it in and out for a bit. Then, he slides it out and pats your ass.

“Bend over, baby.” You do as you're told and bend over, putting your hands on the short table that is between your chairs. He flips your skirt up over your ass and moans with the sight of your glistening wet pussy in front of him. “Goddamn, honey.”

And then he dives in tongue first, shoving it as deep inside you as it'll go. He fucks you with his tongue for a bit before he moves down, licking your clit with a fervor you've never experienced before. You moan loudly and he tries not to smile. He loves to eat you out any way he can, but you bent over like this doesn't happen often.

“Fuck, baby… that's good.” You whimper as he continues to lick and suck and tongue fuck your pussy, pushing you to the edge of an orgasm pretty quickly.

“Cum for me, honey.” He mumbles against you, sending his tongue to dart out and tease your clit. You moan and push back, losing all control. He presses his tongue inside you again and then goes back to working your clit. “Come on, baby. Just let go; I'm right here.”

You whimper and pant as your orgasm closes in on you and you almost scream as it rattles your whole body, rushing through you from your pussy right out to your fingertips and back again. He feels the way you pulse on his tongue and licks you through your climax.

When you finally come down, you hear him unzip his pants and pull his cock free. He grabs you around the waist and pulls you back down into his lap. You groan as you sink down onto him, pushing him so deep inside you.

“That's my girl.” He whispers in your ear. You moan and start to bounce on him while he guides your hips. “Fuck, baby.”

He makes some kind of noise between a moan and a grunt and holds your hips as he starts to thrust into you from underneath. Then, you take over again, grinding back against him, pushing him deeper and deeper.

“Gettin’ close. Don't stop, baby.” You bounce on his cock as fast and hard as you can and feel him start to throb inside you. Then, he moans loudly, grabs your hips in a bruising grip, and slams you one last time. “Fuck! Yeah, baby.”

When he finishes, he holds you still in his lap, pulling your body back against him as he moves your hair and bites into your neck with his dick still nestled in your pussy. You groan as he drinks you, reveling in the sensation of this highest level of intimacy. After a few seconds, he backs off, licking your puncture wounds so that they'll heal faster.

“You like it when I bite you like that? With my cock inside you?” He whispers in your ear and your pussy clenches around him. You shift a little and he groans. “Turn around and feed, baby.”

Without hesitation, you turn and straddle him. He's soft, but he uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit as he moves his head to give you access to his neck. You moan and whimper as he drags his thumb faster and faster over you. Another orgasm threatens to overwhelm you and you lean forward and graze your fangs against his skin.

“That's it, baby. I want you to cum and bite me.”

“Fuck… Elvis… ohhhh!” Just as your climax hits, you sink your teeth deeply into his neck and whimper as the sweet taste of his blood washes over your tongue. He holds your hips tightly and lets you drink your fill. When you finally come down and back off of him, he pulls you into a kiss that's all fangs and tongues and blood. He pulls back and presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Elvis.” The captain comes over the PA system to announce your descent into the Memphis airport. Elvis squeezes you one more time and then pats your ass. He helps you put your panties back on, but doesn't let you go sit in your own seat. Instead, he wraps his arms tightly around you. You tap on his arm. “Baby, I need my seatbelt.”

“No, you don't. I've got you.” You giggle and relax against him. The plane lands just fine and you both sigh deeply.

Back to reality.

******

Finally, you arrive at the hospital and make your way to Lisa Marie’s room. When you walk in, Elvis demands that everyone leave. They look at him like he has three heads, but he says it again and you hear his voice take on that eerie quality that it does when a vampire is compelling someone. It doesn't take much longer for them to clear the room and leave you and Elvis alone with Lisa Marie.

“How do I give her my blood?” He looks at you helplessly.

“I'm not sure. Maybe just drop some on her tongue? Ama said it didn't need to be much at all. And then once she's awake we can give her a little more until she's fully recovered.” He nods and pulls his sleeve up.

“Baby, would you bite me?” You walk over to him and take his arm.

“Why?”

“Your bites are gentler. Please?” Nodding, you lean forward and carefully sink your fangs into his flesh. “Mmm, see that hurts a lot less. When you do it it feels good.”

You have to actively stop yourself from feeding so he can get some blood for Lisa, but it's not easy to pull your mouth away from his arm. Even after feeding on the plane, he tastes so good it's hard to pull back. He strokes your hair with his other hand.

“Thank you, baby.” He dips his fingers in the small pool of blood that's gathered on his arm. Then, he takes his fingers and opens Lisa's mouth, meticulously placing a few drops on her tongue. When he's finished, he stands back and watches like she's going to wake up right away.

“It'll probably take some time to work. Come sit down.” He nods and pulls both of your chairs up to the side of the bed.

With one hand, he holds Lisa Marie’s, making soft circles on the back of hers. He leans back a little, though, to let you settle on his shoulder. His arm snakes around your waist and pulls you in close so he can kiss you on the forehead. You drift off to sleep in his arms and he looks at you and then Lisa Marie, thinking he has everything he needs right now at this moment, as long as everyone wakes up in the morning.

******

Almost the End!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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kaermorhenatnight · 9 months ago

Text

Something real

Astarion x Tav, Tav is afab, she/her pronouns

word count | 2.5k

warnings | act I spoilers; conversation about SA; mentions of the previous sexual encounter, story seems to be going towards another but it doesn't; drinking blood.

A/N | This fic takes place somewhere in the act II, Tav and Astarion had their little hook up after the tiefling party. I see it as another version of the unprompted confession he makes/the talk after meeting Araj Oblodra. I just think that the game focuses on the romance progressions too much and feel like there were things that should have been said (he jumps into being okay with having sex again without any real discussion about boundaries or about what he says in the unprompted confession - or at least it didn't happen in any of my playthroughs) so I wrote this to kinda fix that in my head. I know a lot of people who experienced SA still want intimacy and a healthy sexual relationship is important to heal, but I felt like a lot of discussion was missing in the game (which is understandable, they cannot elaborate on everything)

Read on Ao3 here

As he takes a step towards Tav's bedroll, she raises her head and tenses, but quickly relaxes again when she sees his silhouette.

Astarion looks around to check if the rest of the camp is surely asleep before swiftly sneaking into Tav’s tent. She told him he can come by to drink her blood tonight, so he was going to do exactly that, but he would still prefer their companions didn't know about their little agreement.

“Hi.”

“I thought you’d be asleep by now. Did I wake you up, darling?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep. A lot is happening around us, you know.” She rubs the corners of her eyes.

“I guess I understand.” He shifts his weight nervously. “So, can I still…?”

“Sure, I said what I said. Just please, be quick.”

“Of course, dear, I wouldn't want to take too much of your night.”

Astarion kneels next to her, one hand slipping under her neck to hold her head still, gentle fingers grazing her skin. His other arm reaches to her side to stabilize himself over her. As he does that, his fingers drag, probably accidentally, against her stomach towards her pubic bone. Even through a shirt, his touch burns, sending shivers through her skin. His closeness, his touch, his smell, stir feelings inside her that she is only recently becoming brave enough to admit.

Tav remembers how they sneaked out after the celebrations with Zevlor's people. How ridiculously good Astarion looked in the moonlight, leaning over her, how he whispered sweet praises in her ear while he fucked her numb. When she didn’t even know he was a vampire and he gently nibbled at her neck, grazing it with his teeth. Now she knows he was showing a lot of restraint that night. Restraint, she almost wishes he didn’t have.

And now he was over her, fingers twisted in her hair, face reaching towards her exposed neck, the memory of pleasure he gave her and yearning for a pleasure he could give coursing through Tav's entire body and forcing a sharp inhale as she tenses to hide the excitement and warmth accumulating in her abdomen.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his lips curving into a smug smirk.

“Yes, just get on with it.” Tav's hands form into fists to focus some of the tension and blush of embarrassment creeps on her face.

“Darling, what did I do to excite you so much?” His hand slips from under her head and he playfully strokes her increasingly red cheek with his thumb. She doesn't have enough willpower not to lean into his touch, feeling more and more blood just flooding her face and loin. “Are you so eager to have me bite into that darling neck of yours?” He chuckles. “Or maybe it’s something else you want from me?”

He moves from her side, grabbing and decisively moving her legs to place himself between them and wrapping them around his waist as he leans over her. “Maybe, since you were so kind to let me... dine with you… And we are in a rather intimate setting,” –he glances to check if the flaps of the tent are enough to obscure them from prying eyes of their companions should they wake up– “I can do something to make it worth your while.” He rolls his hips gently, putting pressure between her legs, right where she needs it.

A sigh that Tav tries painfully hard not to turn into a moan, stumbles from her mouth. She looks up at him.

He is just… so pretty. His hair, in a seemingly chaotic disarray, that he in fact spends a lot of time combing it into and securing with some kind of magical cream. It's truly impressive he learned to do that without any mirror. His eyes, burning red, glistening in the dim light of the singular candle in her tent.

His eyes.

There is sadness and a silent resignation in them that wasn’t there just a minute ago, when he was leaning down to bite her. He was flamboyant, relaxed, and a little bit excited. Now he is looming over Tav, his growing erection pressing against her and yet he seems… defeated.

He doesn’t really want it. He is just afraid she will punish him, even if just by rejecting him, if he doesn’t do it right now.

“You know you don’t need to do this?” Tav slowly gets up, forcing Astarion to sit back on his heels.

“Oh, but I want to.” He gently caresses her cheek, thumb dragging down her bottom lip. “I want your pretty mouth to scream my name.” Now that she knows what to look for, she can see how forced his smile is. She moves back a bit, so he's not between her thighs anymore.

“Do you? Or are you just afraid of what would happen if you say you don’t? I didn’t offer my blood to you to get something in return. I did it because I want you to feel strong. And comfortable.”

Astarion looks at her with visible surprise and confusion like he never imagined the possibility of anyone doing a nice thing without expecting something in return. Or, more specifically, like he never imagined anyone doing it for him. And, like no one ever made sure he actually wanted to be intimate.

“Look,” Tav presses her fingers to her eyes, to ground herself a little and focus on forcing all of the remaining arousal out of her body and mind. “I don’t want you to fuck me because you think you have to. I offered to let you bite me tonight, so let’s do just that. I’m sorry for my reaction earlier, I–” She takes a deep breath. She needs to choose her words carefully. Astarion looks at her, tense, brows furrowed. “In other circumstances, I would love to share a bed with you for the night… but not like that. Not with you feeling forced to do it. You should never feel forced to do it.” She grabs his hands and gives them a sympathetic squeeze.

His eyes wander on her face, trying to read her, like he is trying to figure out where’s the trick, what is she trying to achieve, in what way is her kindness just a decoy. It’s Cazador, still whispering into his ear. That he’s not a person. That his wants don’t matter. That he cannot say “no” and he can never refuse.

“Come on now, Astarion.” She lies back down, turning her head slightly to expose her neck. She really wants to make him understand that he does have a choice. He is free now. And she will not reject him or change her opinion on him for setting a boundary. Because despite his meticulous attempts at being an unbearable asshole to everyone around, she cares about him. She can see his trauma. And she is not going to contribute to it. “I invited you to eat. So eat. We can have sex another time. If you want to.”

“I–” he starts, but his voice seems to get stuck in his throat. “Thank you,” he says finally, his shoulders relaxing, his face softening.

He resumes his position at Tav's side, and bites into her neck. A familiar sharp cold pain hits her and weakness swirls in her head. After a moment he lets go of her, and sits back. A drop of her blood dribbles down his chin. He shoots her a charming smile and licks the corners of his mouth, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

"Delicious as always."

"You know how to make me blush," she says breathlessly, knowing well that right now her body doesn't really have enough blood to spare some for her cheeks.

She expects Astarion to say his goodbyes and leave but he just sits there, staring at her. Maybe he still worries that I expect something from him, she thinks. She needs to let him know he can leave, nothing is expected or required of him.

"I think I will have an easier time falling asleep now, feeling a bit dizzy and all. So goodni-"

"Can I stay?" he interrupts. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, like a lost puppy. "Just stay in your tent. I don't want to be alone."

"Of course." Tav smiles and wants to reach for Astarion's hand, but stops half way. "Do you… want to cuddle?" He doesn't sleep, really, so she's not sure what exactly he wants to do. Maybe just sit in the corner, reading a book.

"Yes, please." He whispers and without further encouragement crawls onto Tav's bedroll throwing his arm around her to pull her down with him. "Goodnight, Tav."

"Goodnight, Astarion." She rests her head on his shoulder and quickly drifts away.

"Hey, Tav, Gale made killer eggs for breakfast, better hurry if you want–" Karlach pushes away the flap of Tav's tent and stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Astarion raising his head, before Tav shakes off the rest of sleep to sit up. "Oh, shit, sorry. Erm, didn't mean to interrupt. I– will leave now." She swiftly backs out, but pokes her head back inside for a moment just to add: “Nice!”

"Well, good morning, Astarion" Tav laughs, and stretches her arms.

"Did you sleep well?" He stays down, head propped up on his elbow, with his usual flirty smile.

"Very well."

"Glad to hear it."

They just look at each other, smiling, breathing in this intimate moment.

Suddenly, Astarion sits up, puts his hands on Tav's cheeks and places a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, pulling away.

“For what?”

“For last night.”

She understands, even if he doesn't know how to vocalize what he means exactly.

“I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.”

“It's a novel concept, I admit. And a little intimidating. I wasn't entirely honest with you. That night, in the forest. You… you asked what I wanted. And the truth is, I wanted protection.” His posture goes back to the carefully curated smug, confident one, to mask the vulnerable position he is putting himself in. “People don't usually trust vampires, perhaps understandably, so I needed someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly. So imagine how stupid I felt when I started to… genuinely… feel something for you."

Tav bites her tongue to not show that she is sincerely hurt a little by that confession. She knows where he is coming from, she knows his history, but it still stings.

“Trust me, I was not happy about it,” he continues.” You're a… complication, I didn't see coming. And yet…” He pauses for a moment. “Last night was the first time I was told I don't have to do something I don't want to. Especially of sexual nature. I really appreciate that.”

Tav touches his hand gently and he immediately tangles his fingers with hers.

“Cazador has no power over you now. It's not fair how many things you were forced or pressured to do. I care about you. Deeply. And I would love to have something more with you. More than friendship. But if our nights together was something you had to endure and not something you really wanted, then I regret it ever happened.”

“Well, it's not really nice to hear you regret having sex with me.” Astarion tries to laugh off the seriousness of the situation, but fails, as his voice breaks a little. “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing… it never mattered. And… being close to someone, any kind of intimacy was something I performed to bring people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to.”

“I want to be intimate with you, Astarion. But only you if you really want it. Not when you do it out of fear.”

“I– I would also like that. But… I don't think I'm ready yet.”

“Of course. And just so you know, it's also okay if you're never ready.”

He looks at her surprised.

“Would you… Really? You would still want to… have something more with me, if sex wasn't even on the table?”

“Of course.” Tav smiles and strokes his cheek.

“Why?”

The confusion on his face seems sincere. Not because he wouldn't want to be with Tav if she didn't want sex, but because he can't really see himself as worth more than what his body can offer in the end.

“Because” –she leans closer, taking his hands into hers, gently tracing patterns on his palm with her thumb– “as gorgeous as that body is, it's not all that you are. You are intelligent. You are funny. You are sensitive. I love being around you. You are curious and you want to live. And I want to help you live. And live with you.”

Astarion just looks at her, processing what she just said. He swallows loudly, pressing his lips tightly together to hide the tremble of his chin.

“And you shouldn't have thanked me for what I did,” she adds, firmly. “Asking for consent shouldn't be something you're grateful for. It's the bare fucking minimum, okay?”

He nods weakly. She can see he doesn't fully process it and doesn't fully believe it yet. But she hopes one day he will.

“But surely you–” he shakes his head, still not grasping at what she is trying to say. “You still have your needs. I wouldn't be offended if you wanted to take another lover–”

“Astarion. I am not a wild animal. My genitals don't dictate what I think or feel. I think with my brain. And feel with my heart. And my heart is yours. If you'll have me.”

“I–” he pauses for a moment, staring at the ground and then raises his head to lock his eyes with hers. There's hope in his gaze. Warmth. Adoration. “I would love that. I would love to have–” he pauses, scrunching his face, as if the phrasing bothers him. He quickly corrects it. “For us to have each other. To have something real.”

She leans forward and pulls him into a hug. Just a hug. No hands wandering around looking for sexual pleasure, no lips searching for his lips, no tension. Just a warm, soft hug. He is slow to reciprocate it, his hands just frozen in air, but when he does, he holds her tight.

When Tav finally pulls away from the hug, Astarion seems to tremble a little, reluctant to let go. She stands up and offers him her hand. “Let's go before they eat all the eggs.”

He accepts her hand and lets her help him get up. He doesn't let go of her, until they sit down at the campfire and she needs her hand back to hold a spoon.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #no beta we die like men

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