#something about vampirism and the suppression of desire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deadly-diminuendo · 6 months ago

Text

You Were My First

a spawn astarion x fem!tav reader oneshot / nsfw / ~3.9k words

Summary: The night he bit you, Astarion awakened something unexpected within you: desire. You offer to let him bite you again, only to receive a more scandalous offer in return. And though you have never before had a lover, you have never felt more tempted.

CW/Tags: virginity loss, vampire bites/blood drinking, tadpole mind sharing, fingering, oral sex, piv sex, act 1

Read on AO3

Or read below...

You toss, you turn, any hope of drifting back to sleep lost to you as memories of last night echo through your mind.

You let Astarion bite you.

And you liked it.

A little thrill runs through you as you reach your hand to your neck. You trace the marks where his fangs had pierced you, remembering the rush of exhilaration you experienced, the strange sense of intimacy you felt as he drank his fill. To lie beneath him, heart racing, losing yourself… Not so different from a lovers’ tryst, you imagine.

Not that you would know. You were quite the romantic in your youth, dreaming of waiting for the one. As the years passed by, you adopted a more practical view, seeking out not an unattainable ideal, but a genuine connection, simple and achievable—still, you never found it, and your first time has yet to happen.

Whether it is because of the unfathomable pull you feel towards your pale companion, or the threat of death lurking around every corner, you are beginning to believe attraction alone is enough.

Gods, you’ve given so much of yourself to Astarion already. And you would give him so much more.

You want him to be your first. Badly.

Really, you should know better. The man is a liar, a flirt, a vampire. He held a knife to your throat the very moment you met, questioned so many of your decisions in his exasperated, exaggerated tones, revealed himself to lack the morals you hold dear to your heart. You two are worlds apart, clearly.

But no amount of reason can dull the growing ache between your legs.

Tired as you are, you prop yourself up, your eyes scanning the surrounding campsite. Most of the others are fast asleep, or at least tucked away in their tents. Only Astarion is nowhere to be found, his tent open and empty, an extra unoccupied bedroll near the fire. Not yet back from his hunt, so it seems.

Temptation urges you to relieve yourself of this tension as you did last night following your exchange with your unexpected visitor. You were careful, shielding yourself with your blanket, limiting your movements, suppressing the sounds that nearly spilled out of you. You got away with it then, you think, but with Astarion still gone, you decide the risk tonight is too high. The embarrassment of him returning and catching you would be more than you could possibly handle.

You sigh. Standing up, you quietly make your way to the riverside. Something about gazing across the moonlit water brings you peace, and right now, peace is what you desperately need.

But you are not alone for long.

“Couldn’t sleep, my dear?”

You gasp as you whip around to see him standing before you—as useful as Astarion’s talent for stealth has proven to be, his penchant for sneaking up on you makes you nervous.

“No,” you answer, though you do not elaborate. “Did you have any luck on the hunt?”

“Not so much as a squirrel, I’m afraid, though they are hardly any better than the rats. There is nothing out there so tasty as you anyway.”

Your heart pounds, your cheeks flush, your mouth runs dry. The satisfied smirk he then gives you tells you he noticed.

You search for something sensible to say. “Will you be all right…?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he says, a touch aloof as he picks over his sleeves. “If our little adventure continues as it has, I’m sure it won’t be long before more foes will have the misfortune of crossing our path. Blood will be much easier to come by now.”

Your shoulders slump a little, and you realize just how much you want him to sink his teeth into you—and maybe not just his teeth. You must be losing your mind.

“Maybe…” you squeak out, and then you freeze. No, this is a ridiculous idea, the worst idea—you cannot do it.

That wolfish look of his returns as he concentrates his full attention on you. “Yes?”

Ugh. You are going to do it.

“You can feed on me tonight, if you would like.”

“My, my. What a sweet, generous little thing you are,” he purrs as he inches closer, eyes ever locked on yours. “I could never refuse such an irresistible invitation. Shall we find somewhere more comfortable? Perhaps you’d care to join me in my tent?”

“Your tent…?!” You expected a little flirtation, but not this sort of proposition so soon.

“Come now, don’t act so surprised. The thought of last night has driven me to distraction, you know. And I know you feel it too.”

Oh, you do. You have wondered about it, cannot stop wondering about it—what it would be like to feel his skin, to hold him tight, to kiss his lips.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you tilt your lovely neck, even now.” Instinctively you straighten it as your cheeks burn hotter.

You cannot actually go through with this… Can you? There is something… off, about it all. Something wicked in his intense gaze and devious smile. Like a tiger eager to devour its prey.

Or a vampire eager to devour your blood, plain and simple. Perhaps that’s all this is, an attempt to guarantee his meals.

“I think it’s my blood you want, not me.”

“Not only your blood, I assure you. I rather liked having you under me. Indulging in you. Making you squirm. I’d like to explore that further.”

You know what the right choice is, the one that is sensible and safe: no.

But you’ve been sensible and safe for far too long.

“I… I would too,” you confess. You feel painfully shy now. Not even a tenday you’ve known him, and here you are, agreeing to share a bed with him.

He grins at you as he smooths away a strand of hair from your neck. You shiver at the sensation of cool fingertips touching your skin, your pulse quickening, anticipation rising as he lifts your chin, as your eyes again meet his.

“I thought so.”

And then his lips touch yours.

His kiss is perfection, equal parts sensual and sweet, the way you like it. It is not your first kiss—but this is better than anything you’ve known before. He pulls you in tight as you wrap your arms around him, longing to savour him, melt into him, become one with him. You never want to stop kissing him—but you crave more. Your hips rock gently, surrendering to instinct as he grasps at your blouse, looses it from your waistband.

This is really happening, you think—and then the reality of it all comes crashing into you, and though you have never wanted a man more, you find yourself pulling away.

You know you need to tell him.

“Second thoughts?”

“No,” you assure him, building up your nerve. “I want to, but… Well, I’ve never done this before.”

His eyes widen and you begin to shrink under his incredulous stare. “You’ve never had sex?”

You nod.

“Really, darling? I mean, there is a certain… innocence about you, but… Never?!”

“Innocence?” you repeat, feigning greater offense than you feel. He is teasing you, sure, but you don’t feel he is outright mocking you. You tease him back. “Make fun if you must, but if you really find me too sweet for your taste, I’ll gladly go to bed alone.”

“Oh, darling, there is no need for that. I’ll admit I have a bit of a sweet tooth from time to time. And I’m more than happy to help you right this terrible tragedy of yours.” He pauses, momentarily dropping his theatrics. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you affirm, both to him and to yourself. “This is what I want.”

“Hm, I suppose it’s fitting, then. You were my first, after all.”

You chuckle at this, equally charmed and perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“The blood of thinking creatures was forbidden fruit to us lowly spawn. Not anymore thanks to the tadpole—and thanks to you. You are the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Why exactly the idea of this man literally consuming you enthuses you so, you do not know—but you decide you do not care either. You might as well embrace it.

“To your tent, then…?”

“Perhaps… but there is one other place that might suit us better.”

+++

Astarion leads you into the woods with the promise of a more private setting.

You recall all the romantic tales you read over and over again as a child, the sort starring a noble hero and a kind-hearted princess who fall hopelessly in love, find happily ever after.

This is a far more lurid tale, you think. One of a maiden swept into a dark forest, carried away to the lair of a charming scoundrel, finding sinful delight in his arms.

Not what you ever pictured yourself doing. No, this is much more thrilling.

You imagine passion, primal and raw, surrendering to the predator within him as he takes your blood and your body. But as you approach a sweet little hideaway made up of blankets and pillows, you know you are in for a more tender experience.

“Funny that this cozy spot is already here,” you comment, knowing he must have set this up long before you agreed to come here with him.

He shrugs, playing innocent, though he is anything but. “I thought we might have use for it eventually.”

The first thing he does once you reach your destination is strip off his shirt, and you can’t help but steal a glance at his flawless form, your hands longing to run across his lean muscle and smooth skin. A touch nervous still, you opt for a more modest start for yourself, bracing against a nearby tree as you unlace your boots.

Just as you kick them off, he is on you, kissing you, tugging at your clothes, eager to pick up from where you left things earlier—and you are too. You work together to undress yourselves and each other, until not a single barrier is left between you.

He takes a step back, drinking in the sight of you, and you survey him with equal scrutiny. You have never before been naked in front of a man, and as much as your instinct tells you to shield yourself, you don’t.

And gods, he is gorgeous like this. You could feel him twitch against you as you locked lips, and now to see with your own eyes the undeniable effect of your touch… You want to drop to your knees and worship him, lavish him with your adoration—but your inexperience holds you back, makes you anxious.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, a welcome boost to your confidence.

“So are you,” you say, laughing softly.

“Obviously.” You laugh again, more heartily this time, your amusement lessening the apprehension you feel.

He closes the gap between you with another kiss, soft and tender and all too brief.

“Tonight will be all about you,” he tells you. You inhale sharply as you open your mouth to protest, but he speaks first. “If you’re still sure about this, of course.”

“I am, but… What about what you want?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, darling. I know I’ll have my fun with you.”

Astarion guides you down to your makeshift bed. His approach is slow, surprising you a little, but you appreciate it. He pulls you onto his lap and treats your back to a soothing massage, your muscles relaxing under his touch.

“That’s it, love. Let all that tension go.”

He draws you closer, peppering your neck with kisses as he holds you tight, the occasional graze of his fangs stirring your senses. Though you are acutely aware of his vampiric nature—how he could bite down hard and drain you dry at any moment—you marvel at how safe you feel cradled in his arms. His hands begin to roam, your need for him growing as he discovers every curve, every line, every detail—everywhere except where you want him most.

You already know how talented he is with his hands, and you wonder what else he can do with those dexterous fingers.

As one hand glides down your abdomen, you smile, knowing you will not have to wonder much longer.

A whimper escapes you as a single index finger gently runs along your entrance, curling into you with each enthralling stroke.

“Last night, when you went back to bed… You touched yourself, didn’t you?”

Oh. You were less covert than you thought. “Yes,” you admit, struggling to maintain your composure as he begins to trace slow, soft circles around your clit.

“And you were thinking of me?”

“Yes,” you sigh, a little more sheepish about this confession than the first.

“Good girl. I want you to show me what you did. Show me how to please you.”

You feel a tingle in your mind as he seeks to open the connection between you.

So you let him in.

You concentrate hard on the memory of your own touch, the rhythmic pressure of rubbing fingers into your sex, bringing yourself to elation. An art you have perfected in the absence of a lover to share yourself with.

And then the thought of him slips in, how you ache to be one with him, to share in his pleasure, and he in yours. A want that transcends the physical realm, you realize now, a want to not only know his body, but his mind, his heart, his soul, through and through.

Panic hits—you have exposed far too much, left yourself far too vulnerable. You hastily sever your telepathic link.

“You sweetheart,” he purrs, amused. Embarrassed though you are, his touch quickly makes you forget all else.

Tucking a second finger behind the other, he gravitates to the spot you prefer, the one you showed him in your mind, each stroke skilled, precise, perfect.

All you can do is give in.

You allow yourself to moan, to let him know just how well he’s working you, how easily your climax will likely come. The sensation is familiar, executed with an expertise that matches your own, but this time enhanced by the excitement of being with a partner. Of being with him.

You ascend towards your peak, your mind cycling through everything you have ever dreamed of doing, everything you hope you will have the chance to try with him: to ride him, to stroke him, to suck him, but most of all, to let him do anything he wants to do to you.

“And what was it that pushed you over the edge?” he asks, his voice now a whisper in your ear, making the whole encounter feel deliciously illicit. You could listen to him like this for hours. “Picture it. Show me.”

Oh, gods.

You follow his command, your minds melding together once more as you bring forth the memory: your favourite new fantasy.

The moment he bit you.

To succumb to him, to feel your blood coursing through you both, to let him conquer you so completely… You want him to taste you again. You want to feel his cock moving inside you when he does.

His fingers still stroke you flawlessly, the apex within reach—and you both know how you can get there.

So he bites your neck.

Release finally washes over you, waves of intense pleasure pulsing throughout your entire body as you writhe about—a result of both your orgasm and his indulgence in you.

“Gods,” he growls as he lets go, as the feeling begins to fade, as your minds disconnect once more. You delight in the possibility your bliss was a shared experience, flowing from your consciousness into his, flooding his mind with your pleasure. You let your body collapse against him.

“Oh, we’re far from done yet, my darling.” He pulls your face to his, your lips parting eagerly, welcoming the brush of his tongue against yours. You can feel him grin against you before he stops to speak.

“So eager to be tasted, you sweet thing. Perhaps I might… taste you elsewhere?”

You think you know what he means, but you are truly entering the unknown now. Unease still lingers in your mind, yet anticipation propels you forward, eager to know what carnal delights you have yet to discover.

You give him a nod and a smile.

He maneuvers around you, and with a firm tug at your hips, he has you flat on your back. His lips explore you, trailing kisses along your skin until, finally, he is between your legs.

And then he licks you.

The sensation is entirely foreign to you—overwhelming, overstimulating at first. He seems to recognize this, focusing on gentle, broad strokes to ease you into it, to build you up until you are ready to be devoured.

And when you reach that point, you instantly understand what you have been missing.

“Astarion!” His name escapes your mouth as a bewildered cry, the pleasure you feel unlike anything you have ever experienced—every lick, every stroke, every swirl has you moaning, nearing your peak already. You glance at him, and he fixes his eyes on yours, the sight of him lapping away at you driving you deeper into this mesmerizing madness. You run a hand through his hair, fingers entangling in his silvery curls, and with the other, you reach for his.

“Yes…” you hear yourself chant, high-pitched and urgent, as he tongues your sensitive nub with quick, deliberate flicks.

Orgasm overwhelms your whole being—your body tenses and spasms, your wails ringing out so loud you fear they might reach the campsite—but you are long past caring now.

You thought it might end there, but instead his tongue feathers against you, a light touch to let you recover—and then he goes in for the kill again. You buck against him in a frenzied search for release as he continues working you, desperate to let this newfound rapture engulf you entirely.

Euphoria fills you once more as you shake violently against him. Countless times you have used your own fingers, thought you had found the limits of your body, but this pleasure is beyond belief, beyond what you ever thought was possible.

He stops, but only briefly—just long enough to make a single request.

“One more for me, darling?”

You watch him as he continues to pamper you, your next climax coming so easily you can barely comprehend it, your keening shattering the quiet of the night.

And now there is only one thing you long to experience more.

Astarion crawls over you, splaying your legs apart with his knees, your anticipation for him burning so hot now it agonizes you. You whine as he guides his length along your folds, coating himself in your slick, driving you wild with need.

“Astarion, please…” you find yourself begging, unwilling, unable to wait any longer for him to claim you.

Mischief pulls his mouth into a grin. “Please what, dear?”

It takes everything in you to say it, but you do. “Please fuck me.”

He rewards you immediately, easing his way inside. You adjust to this intoxicating new sensation, feeling only a hint of resistance as he stretches you, until at last he is wholly inside.

“You’re taking me so well,” he tells you, his seductive tone making you melt.

Gods, you have never felt more full—he fits so perfectly in you, as if your bodies were made to match each other. You bask in the delicious friction he creates as he pulls away only to plunge back into you again and again, your moaning, soft, intermittent at first, becoming bold, steady.

You love every sensuous detail—the feeling of skin against skin; the look of pleasure that graces his handsome face; all the noises you make together, from his little groans to the wet, salacious sounds of your joining. You arch against him, every thrust hitting you just right—he knows he has you hurtling towards your release, knows the moaning, writhing mess he will make out of you.

And then it comes. The sweetest surrender.

You tighten around his cock, revel in in every tremor of your release, sing out in pure ecstasy.

You lavish kisses upon him, his neck, his collarbone, his lips, anywhere you can reach, eager for him to feel as cherished as you do, to take his pleasure in your body, to give in to his deepest desires. And he does, you think, his restraint beginning to falter as you surrender to the powerful, relentless motion of his hips meeting yours.

His want is clear as you feel the tips of his fangs against your neck, and you are more than willing to comply.

You open the link between you, pushing a message from your mind to his: “I’m all yours.”

You barely notice the twinge of pain, too lost in bliss to care, too stimulated by the sensations that flow from his consciousness to yours—how your blood fulfills him, thrills him, sates him; how deliciously pliant your flesh is as he sinks into you endlessly; how he’s, oh, so close to his climax.

So close that you once more find yourself rapidly approaching your own—you sense his want, his need to feel the elation of emptying himself inside of you, your own core equally aching for his spend.

When you register the tell-tale twitch of his orgasm, you slip into your own. His pleasure crashes into your mind, and yours into his, becoming indistinguishable—an intimate and intense intertwining of your bodies and minds.

As you lie together, silent and satiated, your minds both your own again as you attempt to readjust to reality. You relish in the lingering thrill of sex, recall every moment of pleasure you experienced, from your first kiss to the moment he finally spilled into you. You just had the best night of your life—but doubt creeps in, gnaws away at you.

You are sure he truly wanted you when your minds merged—yet you could sense something else, something dark underlying his consciousness. You look at Astarion—the smoulder he gives you is as calculated and collected as it always has been, betraying nothing. A perfectly crafted mask.

You realize just how much you wish that he will drop that mask for you one day, that you might truly bond and connect. You knew this risk was there, that you might end up feeling more attached to him than you perhaps should—but you have a little hope, and you will hold on to it. You reach for his hand, enclosing it in yours.

“I’m glad you were my first,” you tell him.

He gives your hand a squeeze, repeats his little joke from earlier as he smiles back at you. “And I’m glad you were mine.”

Maybe you are playing the fool, but something in his eyes, in his voice, something about the way his own words seem to surprise him… It feels genuine this time.

And for now, that is enough.

Thank you for reading!

My AO3 | My Masterlist

This was the first fic I finished on AO3, and now here it is on Tumblr! I'm currently working on two more short x reader fics, one for Spawn Astarion and one for Ascended Astarion, but I haven't ruled out also writing a follow-up for this one where our reader shares another first with him. 👀

Work is particularly annoying right now, but I hope to have more smut to share soon!

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #my writing #my fics

496 notes · View notes

lovelybluebirdie · 1 year ago

Text

A sight to behold

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: Astarion is far more than his beauty, and you want him to know.

Word Count: 1,7k

fluff, comfort

[AO3]

“You should get some rest, love,” Astarion whispers against your hair. He holds you comfortably in his arms, your fingers loosely grasping the end of his collar while his hand strokes along your waist, caressing your battle-bruised skin.

Usually sleep didn’t take long to claim you after an exhausting day of defeating vigorous creatures or learning another disturbing fact on the tadpole inside your brain, but tonight it seems to avoid you for some reason, leaving you tossing and turning within your bedroll until Astarion eventually pulled you into a loving embrace.

“I’m good,” you mutter as a deep yawn escapes your throat, smothering your last syllables.

Astarion cups your chin between his thumb and index finger, surveying your face. “You’re a weary little love if I ever saw one.”

“Fine, you’ve got me,” you reply in a drowsy voice. “Maybe I am a little tired, but somehow I can't find any sleep.”

His brow furrows. “Is anything troubling you, my dear?” he asks sincerely, pondering if he might’ve done something wrong.

The unpleasant thought has no room to spread its hooks any further, as he's met with only fondness from your tired eyes, leaving his ribcage bursting with adoration.

“No need to worry about me, Astarion. I promise, everything’s alright,” you assure as you begin to massage his ears, causing them to twitch.

“You still need to get some sleep though,” he scolds with half-closed lids. It's more of a moan, as he’s unable to suppress his desire for your blissful fingers to go on. You seem to know exactly where he enjoys them most, he notices, when another quiet groan spills from his lips.

You brush the pointy tip of his ear once more, cautiously not to overstimulate this sensitive part of him, before you rest your fingers on his neck and playfully raise an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to indulge in your beauty a little longer before I find myself dozing off.”

A benign remark, and yet something inside Astarion shifts. Something he can’t fully fathom at first, a faint sense of melancholy starting to linger, despite the comfort of your touch.

He’s been called beautiful more times than he can remember, but he’ll never be able to judge for himself, being robbed of his reflection since Cazador turned him into a vampire spawn centuries ago – his own appearance remaining a dark shape from his past.

“Beauty you say?” he mumbles quietly. “Tell me then, what is it you see when looking at me?”

Your expression softens as you grasp for his hand and squeeze it lightly. It seems you’ve already caught his musings, as you often do, without him needing to vocalise that something’s on his mind.

“Well, your most outstanding features are probably your piercing eyes – crimson, like rubies,” you explain before resting a kiss on his cheek.

Astarion listens attentively. His gaze must indeed be exceptionally sharp, he thinks, trying for a brief moment to recall the colour his eyes were before he was turned, but to no avail. A shiver runs down his spine as he wonders if you might think of him as a dangerous predator at times, uncertain whether this poses a pleasant or a frightening notion.

“Sometimes they’re full of anger, resembling freshly shed blood. And other times they’re… so soft. Reminding me of the cutest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen, almost competing with Scratch,” you giggle as you draw your thumb along his cheekbone, right where your lips parted from his skin.

Astarion stares at you in bewilderment. “What do you mean – puppy eyes?! I’m a century-old vampire spawn, not some gushing maiden.”

“You asked what I’d see when I’m looking at you, didn’t you?” You offer him a mischievous grin before blowing a strand of hair off his forehead. “Or do you prefer me to stop?”

Astarion rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. “Fine, go on.”

Although not particularly delighted by the comparison you draw, he can’t resist the urge to listen to you further describing him.

“There are also your beautiful white curls – so smooth that I often find myself wondering which soap you use for them to stay that way,” you say as you take one of said strands between your fingers. “Come to think of it, those are probably one of my favourite parts of you, my love.”

“Mhm, I certainly have the best hair in camp,” Astarion purrs approvingly, a smug grin playing around his lips, vanishing the furrow on his brow from your previous remark.

“Don’t let Shadowheart hear,” you joke before continuing. “Of course I also adore your smile – seeing those little wrinkles when you laugh.”

Astarion’s grin freezes as he quickly feels the spot beneath his temples.

“My sweet, you surely must’ve noticed by now that one of a vampire spawn’s rare perks is eternal youth, so I’m quite positive that there are no such things as wrinkles on my face.”

“If you say so,” you chuckle as you reach for his hands to press loving kisses on his fingertips. “This was supposed to be a compliment, you know.”

“Perhaps if I wasn’t your lover, but your doting grandmother,” he grumbles with pursed lips, but doesn’t pull away.

“I sense you desire to listen to some of your less grandmotherly features, then?”

Astarion battles another grin but loses, his lips twisting to a wry smile. “Yes, please.”

It's true, he doesn’t want you to stop, secretly enjoying how sincere you express your sentiments.

“Let’s see if I find some, though…” you tease, earning a gentle nudge to your hip before your eyes are glued to his face again. “Honestly, you're stunningly beautiful, Astarion – a goddamn sight to behold.”

Astarion’s smile widens at your flattery. “Oh dear, that sounds far better than being described with the attributes of an old lady.”

“As I thought,” you reply, brushing one of his curls behind his ear. “But do you want to know what I adore about you most?”

Astarion's eyes grow round. “As humble as I am, I'm always thrilled to receive some more praise.”

He notices a flush to your cheeks as you let your finger slowly trace along the bridge of his nose, until it comes to a rest on his lips.

You clear your throat, seeming in search of the right words.

“You’re so much more than your beauty,” you begin, your fingertip still resting on his bottom lip. He presses a kiss, his curiosity roused.

“I love the way you make me laugh, like no one else can, despite all the madness we have to endure. Or watching you reading for hours, chuckling at little passages you like. Seeing how you squint when you take in the details while you embroider a piece of fabric.”

You pause to cup his face in your hands and smother him with gentle kisses, starting at his jaw, moving up to his nose and then his eyes. Astarion remains silent, graciously relishing your warmth.

Your words and touch are like a balm, and not for the first time he wonders how he came to deserve such kindness.

“Your skin is cold, yes, but no one has ever kept me this warm when being in their presence. You’re brave, and despite everything you had to endure, you turned into this wonderful man I came to love more than everything I ever held dear. You're most precious to me Astarion, and I never want to spend a day without knowing you by my side.”

It’s not often that Astarion finds himself speechless, and yet your genuine affection robs him of the ability to respond. He has to hold back tears that dwell behind his fluttering lashes.

Deprived of his ability to speak he can only press a kiss to your forehead, followed by another peck to the tip of your nose, before his lips crash into yours – hastily, in need of you.

Astarion can sense your pulse quickening as his tongue enters your mouth, a soft moan escaping your lips while your hand runs through his hair.

He gently bites your lower lip, the initial rush of his kiss replaced by a sudden tenderness, a flutter spreading right where his dead heart once beat.

Astarion has never felt like this with anyone but you. Perhaps you've turned him into a love-struck maiden after all, he thinks with a smile as he kisses you once more, gentle and soft, before your lips part and he glances at your endearing eyes, finding his voice again.

“I love you too, you cheeky little thing. Even if you have the guts to describe me like a grandmother first, and then almost make me weep from your loving words,” he chuckles while grasping the fabric of your nightgown to pull you closer against his body.

Astarion is used to conceal his emotions behind his jesting shell, and yet when he’s with you, his façade naturally crumbles.

“Guilty as charged,” you reply fondly.

“But honestly… Thank you,” Astarion speaks softly. “For seeing me, like no one else does.” His words come out raw, honest. “You know I don't pray to any of the gods, but if I did, I'm sure I would've caught myself thanking them for bringing you into my life. You're a vision, and through the time I spend with you, it almost feels like my dead heart starts beating again.”

“You’d better stop with that loving talk yourself, before we'll both start to weep,” you laugh as you reach for the corner of your eye, a single wet streak glistening on your skin.

Astarion moves up to kiss it away. “As much as I like to revel in our mutual affection, I don't wish to see more of your tears.”

“Well, perhaps we should call it a night then. I’m certain I’ll find some rest soon,” you whisper as you shift closer in the crook of his arm.

“You truly should, as I'm positive there’ll be more shenanigans awaiting us tomorrow,” Astarion replies and places a kiss on your hair. “Sleep well, my love.”

“You too, Astarion,” you hum, sounding slightly weary again. Maybe sleep has decided in your favour after all, he thinks as he notices your breath becoming more even.

When you finally doze off in the safety of his embrace, Astarion's chest is filled with warmth over the love he holds for you.

Masterlist

1K notes · View notes

four-unwell-lesbians · 8 months ago

Text

Thinking about the way dungeon meshi does queer horror. Using horror to tell queer stories is already subversive, but dungeon meshi subverts it even more

Normal queer horror is like. A monsterous desire and immortal love of something isolated/hated and the uncontrollable but suppressed need to consume someone to live and they only die if you break/pierce their heart. its great.

In dungeon meshi, the group is STARVING. they do things the way they're expected to and they're so deprived that eventually, one of them is consumed by that monsterous desire.

Then when Falin becomes a monster, she doesn't eat Marcille because she doesn't NEED to, Marcille already offered herself up as part of Falin by mixing her own blood with the dragon's for the resurrection.

Also Marcille is a monster too!! She doesn't need to be turned by Falin. She's a 'witch' doing black magic for one but she's also very vampiric

Her name is super vampirey especially given one of the translation spellings was Marcilla, an annogram of Carmilla*. And Marcille is very similar to Marceline from Adventure Time so it's a name with heavy connotations to me. Also her staff is Ambrosia which means immortal.

*ps Carmilla is the original modern vampire that inspired Dracula and also a lesbian. she used annagrams of her name (Marcilla, Mircalla, Millarca) to disguise herself across hundreds of years.

Marcille is like. a vampire in that death is a big part of her theme. She can breathe that immortality into someone else using her resurrection black magic and death is a huge part of her character. She wants them to live as long as she does. To make them immortal. Like. Like a vampire. Vampires which are unholy when her love interest is a cleric.

But once again this is subverted!! she doesn't 'turn' Falin, she makes her undead by giving her own blood instead of taking Falin's. Falin becomes a monster not because she's attacked or turned, but because her DNA, something INHERENT about her is now intertwined with the monster. so a god-like figure merges them. Then the only way to free her from that frenzy and grant her autonomy again is to finally consume her. something inherently lesbian about all that i think idk about you

#grain of salt #im anime only so I don’t know if the eating her solution works #but whatever happens I BET it’ll work with this queer horror metaphor #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi analysis #farcille #falin touden #marcille donato #queer horror #lesbian vampires make me crazy #i have sooo much to say abuot the queer horror of this show #genuinely how does anyone say theres no romance or theyre not gay because. yeah its only implied but #if you have to make them kiss to prove theyre in love then theyre not really in love #you should be able to tell from implication and interaction and you DEFINITELY can with the way they talk about each other #'marcille.... her name is marcille' with that little smile. thats a girl in love #my posts

444 notes · View notes

captain039 · 2 months ago

Text

PART 10 Blood, Fur and Magic

Vampire Viktor x reader x Werewolf Jayce

Warnings: Vampire things, werewolf things, light swearing, possessiveness, smut, sexual, intimacy, poly relationship, angst, violence swearing

Previous part <-

Geez ten parts already XD

“You did it” Jayce says eyes wide his fingers tracing the tune on Viktor’s chest.

“You did it!” He says kissing you suddenly making you freeze in shock.

“Jayce” Viktor chuckles softly, cupping Jayces cheek.

“Right, sorry” Jayce says giving you an apologising look.

“That’s it?” You say and they both frown.

“Those assholes couldn’t just tell me that?!” You say annoyed.

“Sweet thing” Viktor whispers his hand cupping your neck his forehead resting on the side of your head. You shiver closing your eyes feeling a rush of emotions from him making you both tense.

“I can… feel everything” he says his hand tightening its hold around your neck. You suppress a shiver as Viktor trails the tip of his nose over your ear and down your neck. A flutter of anticipation hits you the strange want to feel his fangs in your neck.

“Oh you sweet thing” Viktor says hoarsely and chuckles. You open your eyes looking to Jayce whose eyes are shining a brilliant gold, his pupils dilated. His eyes look to your lips before he leans in capturing your lips in a soft but passionate kiss. Viktor smiles against your neck fingers moving your hair out the way slightly before he kisses along the flesh there. You let out a small noise, leaning closer to Jayce to chase his lips when he leans back.

“I can feel your desire coursing through your body” Viktor says and you shiver again. You can feel his too it’s stronger though something more deep, hungrier.

“We- shouldn’t” you say and both men frown.

“This is Mel’s house” you mumble and Jayce chuckles.

“You’re right” he says gently resting his forehead against yours.

“The bond” you mutter hand resting on Viktor’s chest. You can feel the rune pulse in time with his slow heart. You look to Jayce who smiles and nods. You take a small breath and hold your hand over his heart trying to focus. Nothing happens though, you frown opening your eyes before closing them again and nothing happens hoping your annoyance.

“This is bullshit” you state and Jayce chuckled holding your hand.

“You’ll get it eventually” he says not bothered as you are.

You don’t get it, you try for days and nothing. You try to invoke feelings to spur your magic think of Jayce being cold like Viktor did in your dream and nothing. It kills you inside, the sad look Jayce does before he replaces it with a soft smile saying it’s ok. It makes you want to throttle him it isn’t alright leaving him out he’s apart of the bond he needs to be apart of the bond and your stupid magic won’t do its damn job. You sit in the gardens late looking over the beautiful purple and blue flowers you don’t know the name of. You have a tendril of blue magic floating around your hand moving to your will while you stare absently. There’s been no visions for the last days and you’re thankful, if you saw Jayce like that, cold, detached it would break your heart again, seeing Viktor was bad enough but Jayce? The golden boy of beautiful smiles? That would ruin you. You notice a shift in the garden and frown, you see a figure, a familiar large figure you almost forgot of fur and wolf ish features.

“Jayce?” You call out softly glancing to the moon. It’s hidden behind clouds but you assume it’s full. Why didn’t he tell you?

“Jayce?” You call again noticing his form shaking and shivering. You stand up and approach slowly only you notice his fire isn’t a dark brown. It’s a dirty blond, you gasp and tumble back at the foreign red eyes that stare at you. It’s gone before you can do anything though, like a figment of imagination and you sigh sitting back down on the bench nearby. You frown a bit was there other werewolves in Piltover? The undercity? Surely there’d be history or records, rumours in old papers about such things. Your body tingles a bit something it does now when Viktor is nearby.

“Viktor” you greet softly as he sits by you.

“You look tired” he says cupping your face gently to look at him before you move your head away.

“Why isn’t the bond working with Jayce?” You sigh running a hand through your hair.

“I do not know” Viktor says with a small frown on his face.

“Stupid mages, stupid prophecy’s” you clench your jaw and fists.

“He looks so hurt when it doesn’t work and I feel like utter shit after wards” you sigh.

“Jayce understands” Viktor says.

“No, it’s not good enough I feel-“ you huff softly.

“I do understand” Jayce says approaching the bench you sit on. He sits down by you taking one of your clench fists in his hand. You sigh intertwining your fingers with his leaning against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry” you mutter to him.

“Don’t be, I know you can’t control it, sure it hurts I can’t be connected to you both, but we’ll figure it out” Sweet Jayce ever the optimistic. He presses a gentle kiss to your head before the three of you sit in silence.

“Do you think there are other werewolves or vampires out there in the cities?” You ask.

“I don’t know” Jayce says.

“I haven’t sensed anyone like us” Viktor comments.

“We must be special” you joke lightly and Jayce chuckles softly.

“Something like that” he mutters.

“Come on, let’s get bed” Jayce says sitting up tugging you with him before holding his hand out to Viktor who takes it. Jayce leads you both inside to the room you’re staying in.

“I dibs being on the middle” Jayce says and you laugh softly shaking your head. Jayce indeed sleeps in the middle one arm around Viktor one arm around you, your hand and Viktor’s hand clasped over the middle of his chest. Jayce falls sleeps too quickly, it makes you slightly jealous when you hear his soft snores after ten minutes. Viktor’s thumb traces patterns over your knuckles his eyes closed, but not asleep. It’s strange what you can feel from him through the bond. Emotions, fleeting thoughts and memory’s, you can sense him more clearly now.

“When’s the next full moon?” You ask softly.

“Three days” Viktor whispers and you nod. Jayce hasn’t been on edge like before. You try not to dwell on it as you fall into slumber.

You’re in the middle of a field, the grass is a dark straw colour dead from the blazing sun. There’s shimmers and flecks of blue around you and a powerful thrum in your veins. You should be used to waking up in weird places by now, but six figures are there again there either side red and blue.

“I did it! I created the bond!” You yell at them.

“Only half” both sides say.

“Yeah well I’ve been trying ok! You didn’t give me any instructions or anything!” You huff at them.

“You need to destroy them” there’s a loud whisper in either ear making you flinch even though the figures stand far away.

“Who?” You ask.

“The darkness”

“The light” two whispers again. It makes your head spin a bit. You notice the shimmers and flecks hovering above the ground one side is blue and the other is red, with you in the middle.

“I’ve already accepted the bond though!” You call out.

“Destroy!” The voice is a mix and something entirely different. There’s a flicker of a figure in a mask two red glowing eyes staring at you.

You gasp body tensing as you wake up. You’re still lying by Jayce, his arm around you securely. Viktor’s hand in yours.

“I saw it” Viktor whispers and you look to him in the moonlit room.

“You saw my dream?” You mutter and he nods.

“Did you hear that voice? It wasn’t the normal ones” you sigh.

“I saw the scenes I couldn’t hear it” he whispers and you nod rubbing your eyes.

“There’s something else out there” you mutter.

Next part ->

If you wanna be added to the Taglist let me know :)

Taglist:

@miraculousasscheeks

@arevik2345

@alitaar

#x reader #au #javik #jayvik x reader #Jayce x reader #Viktor x reader #Jayce x Viktor #Jayce x reader x Viktor #werewolf Jayce #vampire Viktor

195 notes · View notes

charmandabear · 10 months ago

Note

11. Astarion x Reader 👀

We're not going to worry about how long it'll take me to answer these. We're not going to talk about it. Listen, I'm trying so hard to not make these into whole things, I just want to treat them like writing exercises, but I physically can't not finish smut once it's started.

From @astarionfreak's smut ask game ~ other entries

11. "I touched myself last night thinking about you." "I know."

Tags/Warnings: reader isn't gendered but has a vulva, blood/blood drinking, p in v sex, somewhat rough sex (reader gets a little feral in this one)

You're not subtle about it at all.

Every time he catches you staring, you quickly turn your head. At one point you even just shift your eyes, trying to pretend you're looking at something behind him. But there's no way he isn't at least a little suspicious.

Since the night you let Astarion bite you, the tension between the two of you has been palpable. Something about having him pressed down on top of you, his lips on your neck and his hand cradling your neck in a way that was disproportionately gentle set something on fire inside you. You really thought that you could just get over your little crush if you got it out of your system. Sate the need and you could go back to just being friends... Or whatever you are with him.

But it had the opposite effect. Now, his very presence turns you on. The wind catches his scent and you instinctively press your thighs together. He grins after making some sassy remark to Gale, and the glint of his fangs in the light makes your mouth go dry. You even need to suppress a moan when he gets a particularly impressive kill. You really hope no one heard that one.

So now, sitting around the campfire with the rest of your companions, you're just trying desperately to appear normal. You laugh absentmindedly at whatever joke Karlach just made while in your mind, Astarion's railing you up against a tree. It's only when you realize that Wyll has been trying to ask you a question for the past 90 seconds that you know you're too far gone to be in polite company.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it, long day," you make the excuse lamely. "I'm going to turn in a little early, I've got a bit of a headache."

"Do you want something for it?" Shadowheart asks with a frown. "I've got some herbal remedies that might help."

"I'm fine, I think I just need some rest." You force a smile onto your face. "'Night, all." You walk back to your tent stiffly, speeding up to cover the last few meters quickly. Your breath wracks through your body and your blood pounds in your ears. You've never - never - gotten this worked up over another person, never mind a man. Honestly, he's not even really your usual type, you'd normally be much more likely to pursue someone like Shadowheart. But she so clearly has a thing for Karlach, and that's not something you'd want to get in the way of.

But this pale, devastatingly handsome vampire elf has your desire in a chokehold.

You light a lantern inside your tent and take out your journal to sketch. You try to conjure some of the imagery you saw today to keep your brain off Astarion. Scratch and the owlbear cub playing. The terrifying harpies that almost lured one of the tiefling children. Astarion's blade dripping with harpy blood while his bright red eyes sparkle with mischief and the thrill of he kill.

Fucking hells.

You eventually put your journal away and lay down on your bedroll, staring at the ceiling of your tent while the others continue to chat and laugh outside. You listen to their conversation die down, their goodnights, and finally the distant sound of crickets and other nighttime fauna. Your eyes start to grow heavy, or at the very least bored of looking at the support rods in your tent.

You only realize that you've drifted to sleep when you're startled awake by a soft tapping on the canvas flap that separates you from the rest of camp.

"Y-yes?" Your voice is shakier than you'd like, although it's not like a vicious creature would politely knock on your makeshift door. The flap lifts up to reveal the literal last person you'd like to see right now.

"Hello, darling," Astarion grins in that irresistible way that he does. "I wanted to check in on our fearless leader. You've seemed dreadfully jumpy all day."

"Oh! Um." You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "I'm.. fine. Thank you, Astarion." You nod your head in a gesture of dismissal, but he doesn't move.

"Are you sure? You're positively flushed." His smile suggests he knows more than he's letting on. You chew on your lower lip to distract you from the growing ache between your legs.

"I'm perfectly fine, Astarion, thank you. Good night." You reach to close the tent flap but he holds onto it. Your fingers brush against his and it's like a jolt of lightning passes between your hands.

"I'm not buying it," he hums, dropping his voice. He pushes his way into your tent and you scramble backwards. The last thing you need is for him to touch you - you might not be able to control yourself if he does. "Now tell me, what's had you so hot and bothered all day?"

"N-nothing," you stammer, wishing you could just disappear on the spot. He raises an eyebrow and you backpedal. "Well, fine, I think something Gale cooked isn't sitting quite right with me. I was... embarrassed." The lie rings hollow even to you.

"Come now, love, we both know you're a terrible liar." He crawls towards you on his knees, a predator stalking his prey. Your breath catches in your throat. "Do you have something you need to confess?"

You're trapped. You've run out of room in the tent to back away, and Astarion has all but crawled on top of you. His scent is intoxicating and his eyes gleam in the low light. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"I touched myself last night thinking about you."

"I know." The grin that curls across his face is fiendish. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

"You know?" Then you gasp suddenly. "The tadpole..."

Astarion lets out a bark of a laugh, loud enough that you're worried it might wake your other companions. "Darling, I didn't need a tadpole to figure that one out. Like I said, you're a terrible liar." He nudges his knee closer to the apex of your legs and you can feel your arousal making your underclothes wet. "What I want to know is, how did you picture me? My head between your legs? Did I have you on all fours in the forest? Or..." His lips ghost against yours now and your head feels dizzy with lust. "Or perhaps I had you pinned down in this very tent, taking my time as I had my way with you?"

Your instincts take over and you close the minimal distance between you, pulling him down on top of you as you ravage his lips. You claw at his clothing, no longer interested in maintaining decorum. He tears at the laces of your breeches, pulling them down below your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to the open air. A cry rips through your throat as he licks a thick stripe up your slit, and his chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. He pulls up on his knees and grins down at you, open and wanton, as he slips out of his pants.

"So very eager," he hums as he frees his cock, engorged and already dripping. A shudder runs through you as you see it, and you yank on his shirt and pull him down to meet you. You kiss him roughly, catching his lower lip in your teeth as you hook your leg around his waist.

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Astarion," you hiss through gritted teeth, and you groan loudly when he easily sinks in up to his base.

"Someone wants the whole of camp to hear," he growls in your ear as he begins to slowly thrust into you.

"Then you better make it quick so we don't wake them," you snarl in response, all pretenses having vanished. You tangle your fingers into his hair and press his face to your neck. You feel his lips stretch into a smile just before he sinks his fangs into you, the icy shard of pain melting into the heat of his mouth warming with your blood.

You jut your hips up into him, desperately chasing your release as he drinks his fill. He fucks into you, hard and messy, and before long you're feeling the pressure building in your core.

"Gods, Astarion, don't stop," you gasp hungrily in his ear, and he increases his pace to a punishing rhythm. You're starting to grow faint from blood loss just as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your walls clench and shudder around his length and he tears his mouth away from your neck, his expression wild and bloody. A few more broken ruts and you can feel him spilling inside you, the feeling his pulsing cock prolonging your own climax.

The two of you eventually still, covered in a sheen of sweat and panting heavily. Your ears strain to hear if there has been any disturbance in camp to indicate that your other companions heard anything. Outside your tent remains, thankfully, silent.

"Well then," Astarion exhales quickly as he slides out of you. "Darling, if it's going to be like that, then you just need to invite me next time."

#smut ask game #astarion x reader #astarion smut #bg3 smut #smutty fanfiction #smutty one shot #bg3 astarion x reader #bg3 astarion fanfic

304 notes · View notes

hungermakesmonsters · 10 months ago

Text

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Five

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour including toy use. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.6k (I am so sorry)

A/N : This was originally over 7k long so... at least I managed to get it down to under 6k. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

MASTER LIST

Chapter Five

Minutes passed, your back against the door, barely breathing, the stuffed beagle clutched to your chest. Eyes closed, you tried to focus on any little sound that might tell you what he was doing, if he was even still out there. Part of you wanted to go to him, to carry on your conversation. To be near him. You’d seen a new side of him and it was enticing as it was frustrating; how could he be so aloof one minute and so sweet the next?

Your thoughts strayed to that night, to the way he’d kissed you and how his body had felt pressed against yours.

Tearing yourself from the door, you moved to your room, creating distance between yourself and temptation. But yet felt like a spring, coiling tighter and tighter with every little thought of him.

Surely he knew what he was doing to you, the effect he had every time he touched you and smiled that damned smile.

You barely knew him but he gave you butterflies. He stole your breath every time his dark eyes found yours.

Fuck.

You felt like a silly school girl with a crush on the teacher, knowing that it was wrong and nothing could happen. Only, something had already happened. Just the thought of it brought heat to your cheeks and that fluttering feeling to your stomach.

Locking your bedroom door, you let your attention drift to your nightstand. To the top drawer. Cautiously you pulled it open and peeked inside. Embarrassment swelled inside you, reminding you why you’d been trying so hard to ignore it.

It was as full as any other drawer in the room. No expense had been spared. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what half of the toys were for. Some you could guess but others were a little more confusing. All different shapes, colours and sizes. Some so large they looked downright painful.

Frustrated, you slammed the drawer shut.

You weren’t a virgin but you didn’t consider yourself experienced. Sex for you had been awkward fumbles with guys you’d grown up with, shameful moments that often ended in disappointment. Dates had been approved by your parents, and no one they approved of wanted sex unless it could be used to force an engagement.

But, now that you had the opportunity to experience new things, you didn’t even know where to start. Despite your age, you felt like a naive child.

Changing into your PJs you fell into bed, TV distracting you from thoughts of Billy and having dinner with him. When you finally settled to sleep, you pulled the stuff beagle to your chest again and realised that you could spell the faintest hint of his cologne on it. And, all you could think about as you drifted off, was how it would feel to fall asleep in his arms.

Panic gripped you the moment you woke, a thousand anxious thoughts about the evening to come filling your head. You didn’t know what you were going to wear or how you’d manage to make it through an evening without saying anything stupid.

You tried to read over breakfast but you couldn’t concentrate. The tension inside you, the desire that you didn’t know how to suppress, seemed to wind tighter and tighter until you couldn’t sit still.

Taking a cold shower didn’t help either. Instead, the cold water reminded you of his touch and, suddenly, it felt like his hands were all over your body, touching you and caressing you in ways that drove you crazy.

Returning to your bedroom wrapped in a towel, you threw yourself onto the bed, the frustration boiling over.

He’d suggested talking, getting to know each other, but how were you going to do that when you couldn’t focus? How could you have dinner with him when all you could think about was him kissing you?

You realised there was only one thing you could do.

Closing your eyes, you fumbled with the top drawer of the nightstand, reaching in and pulling out the first toy your hand fell on. You took a few deep breaths before looking at it; blue silicone with a slight curve, not big enough to be intimidating but it still made your cheeks warm. A little button at the base caused it to vibrate.

Oh fuck.

You took a few more deep breaths, knowing you had to at least try. Parting your legs, you slipped the still-vibrating toy between your thighs.

Your breath hitched at the first little touch. The second touch was firmer, pressing the tip against your clit. Oh. It felt good, better than any pleasure your fingers were capable of creating. Biting your lip, you tried to keep from moaning, as the pleasure quickly started to mount inside you. You turned it off, knowing you needed more, you needed everything.

Gingerly, you reached between your thighs, feeling how wet you were before guiding the toy to your entrance. A low, gasped moan escaped you as you began to slowly slip it inside you.

Letting your head fall back on the pillow, you tried not to think too much about what you were doing, instead finding your mind drifting somewhere far more dangerous. To thoughts of him. And the more you thought about Billy, the better it felt. Soon enough, your eyes were closed and you were imagining him on top of you; the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress and his dark eyes fixed on you as he fucked you. You were certain that he’d know exactly what he was doing, that a night with him would be better than anything you’d experienced before.

“Billy,” you moaned softly, remembering the kiss, remembering the way he’d made you feel wanted. It became harder to hold back the sounds that were desperate to escape you as you descended further into the fantasy, moving the toy a little faster.

Your free hand reached for the first thing it could find, bringing the stuffed beagle to your lips to stifle your moans. Suddenly all you could smell was his cologne and it was almost enough to push you over the edge.

Finally, you turned the vibrator back on and came almost immediately.

“Mr Russo,” you keened softly into the stuffed toy, every gasped breath filling your nostrils with his scent.

Your cheeks burned with shame the moment it was over, but you kept the toy inside you, imagining him as the sort of man who’d take his time before pulling out, making sure you were finished.

Suffice to say, you were mortified once you’d dropped the toy to the floor and your heart rate had started to slow.

It didn’t feel right, in fact it felt awful, like you’d used him for your pleasure without permission. But, you finally felt better. The tension was gone. You could finally relax and spend the rest of the day finishing The Picture of Dorian Gray, hoping it would give you and Billy something to talk about.

You drew blood early, getting it out of the way so you could spend an obscene amount of time obsessing over what to wear. Eventually, you settled on a casual little black dress that wasn’t over the top, but made it look like you’d made an effort. After tying back your hair, you put on some natural looking make-up, hoping it would give you a little more confidence.

And, when you finally stepped out into the penthouse, you could have sworn you saw his breath catch.

Billy was dressed more casual than you’d ever seen him, wearing a red sweater and dark jeans. A look that definitely worked for him. He watched from the sofa as you made your way towards him.

“You look lovely,” he said and your heart stuttered.

Glancing down at yourself, you bit your lip, feeling like it was too much. “We usually only have take out on special occasions back home, so...” you shrugged.

“I feel a little under-dressed,” he joked.

“You always look nice,” you remarked before realising what you’d actually said. “I mean... you always dress very nicely.”

“My tailor will be glad to hear you say that,” he smiled as you sat. “The food should be here soon. I hope you don’t mind that I ordered the fixed menu.”

“That’s fine.” If anything it made it easier; you wouldn’t have to worry about the food list.

“Wine?” He offered and you nodded eagerly, despite not being much of a drinker. “Is Riesling okay?” You weren’t sure so you nodded again.

The bottle and glasses were already on the table, in fact his was already half-empty. He filled a glass and you leaned to take it from him, your fingers brushing against his and, for a second, he didn’t let go.

“You smell nice,” he muttered, his gaze lingering as your cheeks warmed. You hadn’t put on perfume, so you assumed it must be your vanilla body wash. “How’s your hand?” He asked a moment later with a touch more reluctance.

Holding it up, you showed him the gauze bandaid across your palm. “It’s fine. Nearly healed.”

Billy nodded, his guilt obvious. But, thankfully, he didn’t say anything else on the matter.

“I finished Dorian Gray,” you told him, stopping an awkward silence from falling.

“Oh? And what did you think in the end?” He asked, crossing his legs so he could turn more towards you.

“I’m not sure yet. It was a lot to take in.” You shrugged. “He did some horrible things; especially to Sybil and poor Basil, but some of it wasn’t all that bad? And then when he tried to change, Henry made him feel bad about it.” You took a breath, feeling the weight of his scrutiny on you. “I get that it’s a cautionary tale about excess and hedonism, but I don’t think anyone should be punished for trying to enjoy themselves...”

“It was a different time,” Billy offered, still completely focused on you. “Dorian’s hedonism damaged almost everyone unlucky enough to fall under his spell.”

“I know, I just...” you let out a huff, not sure how to articulate what you wanted to say. “I think if he’d been given the opportunity, he could’ve changed for the better.”

“That’s very optimistic of you.”

He said optimistic but you were certain that he meant naive.

“I still don’t understand why you like it.”

“Well, it’s -” he was cut short by the sound of a buzzer before the elevator doors slid open. “Saved by the bell,” he remarked, grinning as he got to his feet to go collect the food from the doorman and tip him.

While Billy got the food, you made your way to the dining table, taking your glasses and the bottle with you. Places were already set and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you noticed the candles. Realistically, he was probably just trying to make things nice but, in your mind, all you could think about was how it seemed intimate.

You took a seat and a long sip of wine while Billy unpacked the food, almost covering the whole table. The smell was enough to make your stomach grumble. Once everything was on the table, Billy dimmed the lights with his phone and lit the candles.

“Dig in,” he told you, starting to fill his own plate.

You started with the things you knew you liked, taking a little and starting to eat, but it wasn’t long before you found your attention drifting to him, watching through your lashes. You watched him eat, watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way he licked his lips.

“What?” He asked, fighting back a grin. Your gaze dropped to your place and your cheeks started to burn. “It’s okay, you can ask.”

“What’s it like? When you eat, I mean,” you asked softly, knowing it really wasn’t any of your business.

“Same as when you do,” Billy offered without seeming to care, “only flavours are muted and it never makes me feel full.”

“Oh,” you looked up and instantly felt bad.

“What’s that look for?

“What look?”

“You get this look sometimes, like something I’ve said has made you sad. Like you feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not that,” you tried to explain, “I just... I can’t imagine not being able to enjoy things like food and sunsets.”

“It’s not that I can't enjoy them,” he shrugged again, “I just enjoy them less than I did when I was human.”

“Do you miss being human?” You asked before realising how inappropriate it was. You shook your head. “I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t’ve -”

“No, it’s fine,” he answered, reaching for his glass and taking a long, slow drink. “I do miss it. This - this wasn’t something I chose.”

There was nothing you could say to that. There were questions, yes, but you weren’t entitled to the answers and you didn’t want to risk ruining the evening by asking them. Awkwardly, you reached for your glass and took a drink.

“There’s that look again,” he remarked with a soft smile, “don’t worry, I’ve had enough time to come to terms with what I am now.”

The small talk continued over food, mostly about the food, until you felt like you couldn’t eat another bit. Sinking back in your chair, you closed your eyes and let out a slow exhale. When you looked at Billy again you found him grinning at you as he reached across to top up your glass.

“I didn’t order any dessert but if you’re still hungry I could -”

“Don’t you dare,” you laughed. “But thank you, this was really nice.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he told you as he refilled your glasses. “I want you to enjoy your time here. I know things got off to a strange start, but I want you to be comfortable here.”

“I am - I mean, I’m trying to be,” you struggled to explain. “I’m still getting used to it, but being able to go out with Karen really helped.”

“She enjoyed meeting you. She found you very interesting,” Billy answered, an indecipherable smile on his lips. “I find you interesting too.”

The comment caused your head to pound a little harder in your chest and your thighs to press together. The lump in your throat kept you from responding. A moment later, he changed the subject.

“Let’s go sit on the sofa,” pushing his chair away from the table. You nodded, pushing back your chair and standing, hesitating when you looked at the mess on the table. “Don’t worry, the maid will deal with it.”

“Maid?” There was a maid?

“She usually comes around 4am,” he answered, waving his hand towards the sofa, indicating that you should go while he got tonight’s blood from the kitchen.

Wine glass in hand, you sat on the sofa, staring out at the twinkling lights of the city and, again, you couldn’t help but think how intimate it all felt. Billy soon joined you, leaving some space between you, but not much - even less when you folded your legs beneath you and turned towards him.

“So,” he started with a smile, “what do you want to know?”

What followed was a long conversation about Billy, finding out what you could. He’d been a vampire for fifteen years; in his human life he’d been a Marine and, now, he ran a private security firm that mostly catered to vampire clientele. He was born and raised in New York but had no family. And he was wealthy enough that he simply laughed when you asked about the credit card in your name.

Then, he turned the spotlight on you.

You explained that you were from the Midwest, a little middle-of-nowhere town, and that your family were part of an insular, conservative community. You’d spent the last few years helping homeschool some of the local children, but you’d decided you’d wanted a change. You’d wanted to see the world and experience new things. He didn’t ask why you’d taken the job, and you didn’t offer the information, instead you tried to make it seem like everything was simple and happy in your life.

All the while, his eyes stayed fixed on you, as he sipped your blood.

“Does it unsettle you?” He asked suddenly. “Seeing me drink your blood?”

“N-no,” you tried to speak around the lump in your throat, “I don’t mind.”

“But you have questions?”

“Some?” You answered and Billy gave a nod, indicating you could ask if you wanted. “The other day, when you mentioned it was still warm, is that...” you couldn’t bring yourself to finish.

“It’s better, yes,” his voice dropped to a low whisper, tongue running over his lips. “It’s like drinking from the source.”

“And is that...” Again, you couldn’t finish, feeling breathless just at the thought.

“I don’t bite. You never have to worry about that.” But the way he was looking at you said something else entirely.

“Good,” you finally manage to take a breath, “I don’t want to be bitten... or turned...”

Billy simply nodded.

“What can you taste when you drink my blood?” You asked, remembering what he’d said about knowing you hadn’t been sleeping or eating. “You said you can tell certain things from it?”

“Hormonal changes can affect how it tastes,” he offered.

“That’s why you want me to keep healthy and eat right?”

“Yes, it makes your blood taste better, but it’s also because I don’t want you getting sick. I’m not entirely heartless,” he smiled.

Silence fell and Billy took another drink. The care he took not to waste a single drop had your heart beating faster and, this time, when he noticed you watching, you didn’t look away. You couldn’t look away. Maybe the wine had helped lower your inhibitions, or maybe you were starting to feel more comfortable with him. Whatever it was, the moment didn’t end until he’d finished the whole glass.

Billy licked his lips again, and you noticed his gaze drop to the neckline of your dress as you took deeper breaths trying to calm your racing heartbeat, causing your breasts to awkwardly rise and fall. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and your eyes dropped to the empty glass in his hand, now resting on his lap and - fuck, your eyes snapped back up awkwardly, the moment you noticed the way his pants were tented. He was hard.

“I, uh -” you started, getting to your feet, “- I need a glass of water.”

You didn’t wait for a response before heading to the kitchen, giving him space to deal with whatever that was. Your heart was still pounding uncomfortable, your hands shaking as you found a clean glass and started to run the cold tap. Filling it, you took a slow drink, hoping to drown the butterflies in your stomach.

You didn’t hear him move, didn’t realise he was right behind you until his hand came to rest on the edge of the counter beside yours, his cold thumb brushing over your pinkie. Your breath caught as his shadow swallowed yours on the wall, and your cheeks continued to burn. Desire and embarrassment warred inside you, but Billy didn’t speak until you did.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing without your consent,” he answered softly, against your ear.

He inhaled slowly, his nose inches from your hair. Then came that low, restrained groan. He sounded like a caged animal, desperate to be released, and you realised you were the one holding the keys.

For a second, you remained frozen, knowing that he was giving you a choice. It was a bad idea to complicate things between you, but some part of you wanted this, wanted him. Suddenly all you could think about were the fantasies you’d played out with the vibrator that morning.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stepped back, pressing yourself against him.

His hand twitched, his thumb covering your pinkie, holding it.

“Say yes,” he near-demanded, wanting your unequivocal consent, his lips ghosting your ear with every word. “I need you to say you want this.”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I want this.”

A split-second later, his hand was on your stomach, pulling you back against him, letting you feel the hard press of his cock against your lower back. His lips moved to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin in a way that made your heart race faster. And you quickly realised how much Billy liked that.

“That’s right, little hummingbird,” he groaned, moving his hand to palm your breasts over your dress. “Fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

All you could offer was a whimper in response, breath catching as his hand started to slip down your body, reaching beneath your dress. Cold fingers trailed up your bare thighs, causing a shiver of delight to run up your spine and for heat to pool between your thighs.

His knee pressed gently between yours, urging your legs apart, letting his hand move higher. You bit your lip and tried to stifle a moan when you felt his fingertips against the wet fabric of your panties, but holding back anything became impossible the moment his cold fingers slipped inside. His touch was light to begin with, teasing, fingers stirring between your folds, drawing a gasp from you. A low growl vibrated through his chest as he coated his fingers in your arousal, his touches getting more pronounced the wetter you got.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as his lips and fingers continued their assault on your senses. You didn’t even notice his hand move from the counter until you felt his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling gently to turn your face enough so he could kiss you. His tongue against the seam of your lips was almost enough to distract you from his finger slowly easing its way between your walls. You whimpered and moaned against his lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, keeping you in the kiss until every inch of his finger was buried inside of you.

“Fuck, hummingbird,” he groaned, a dangerous glint in his eyes and a grin on his lips. You moaned as his finger flexed inside you, slowly starting to withdraw before pushing in again. “Don’t come. That’s the only rule you have to follow right now; don’t come until I say you can. Can you do that?”

“I -” you could barely think to answer.

“If you can’t, I’ll stop,” he warned, his finger stilling and causing you to keen at the loss of sensation.

“Yes,” you moaned.

Your relief was palpable the moment he started to move again. The fingers in your hair, tugging softly so his lips could return to your neck. It didn’t feel real. It felt amazing in a way you couldn’t comprehend. Your heart raced faster when you felt him start to press a second, cold finger inside you, and you realised you were gripping his thigh. Hard.

“You’re so wet for me,” he groaned against your neck. “Practically dripping all over my hand,”

The words alone were enough to cause you to clench around his fingers, letting you feel them more acutely as they started to move a little faster, fucking you to the knuckle each and every time.

“Billy, please...” you pleaded, not sure you could take much more.

“Not yet,” he groaned, his lips against your ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe in a way that made everything so much harder for you. “It’ll feel so good if you just wait.”

You wanted to wait, to play his game, but how could you when it already felt so good? You felt yourself on the precipice, every muscle tensing, your slick walls tightening and gripping his fingers. Your eyes closed tight and you almost felt ashamed of yourself, like you were going to ruin the moment because you couldn’t control yourself.

His fingers stilled again just before you could go over the edge.

“Not yet,” he told you, voice calm but commanding. “Just breathe. Let me be in control.”

You managed a weak nod before he pulled you back into another kiss, fingers staying perfectly still for a few moments, not moving again until he felt you start to relax. This time his fingers moved in shallow thrusts, bending inside you, pressing against your soft inner walls like he was searching for something.

Your whole body shuddered when he found it and you saw stars.

“Does that feel good?” He asked and you nodded, unable to do anything but moan when his fingertips brushed against the same spot. “That’s it, little hummingbird, sing for me.”

More moans slipped from your lips, each more desperate than the last, your fingers digging into his thigh through his jeans.

“Billy, I-I need to...” you begged, words fracturing into another cry of pleasure.

“Do you need to come?”

“Y-yes!”

“Say it,” his commanding voice sending a thrill down your spine and right to your core.

“I-I need to come,” you pleaded, feeling more brazen than you had in your whole life. You’d never been the sort to beg to come, but the thought of it thrilled you almost as much as his fingers inside of you.

“Then come for me.”

Your reaction was instantaneous, so much so that you had to wonder if it was because you’d needed to come or simply because he’d demanded it. Your body started to tremble and shake, your walls clenching around his fingers as they continued to move inside you, and the sounds you were making - if you hadn’t felt completely out of your mind, you would have been embarrassed by the desperate noises.

As you came you barely noticed his hand slip from your hair to press against your chest, resting over your racing heart. Your head turned and his lips quickly claimed yours, swallowing down your moans, his fingers still dragging out your orgasm until your legs felt so weak you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand without his arms around you.

Without warning, Billy's hand slipped from between your legs and he swept you off your feet, carrying you back to the sofa. He sat back with you on his lap, holding you close, your body trembling so much that you worried it would never stop. It felt like he’d broken something inside of you and your body didn’t know how to process all the pleasure he’d created.

Being on his lap didn’t help, but it would have been a lie to say you hated the feeling of his arm wrapped possessively around you and his hand resting on your bare thigh. You curled against him, your head on his chest as you slowly caught your breath.

Billy’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you finally started to sill.

“Are we going to -”

“Not tonight,” he answered, not needing you to finish the question. “I’m not going to rush you.”

Even though he was still hard, he didn’t want anything else. You weren’t sure if it was a rejection or if he really didn’t want to rush you, but it left you feeling even more uncertain.

When you found the nerve to lift your head, he gave you a gentle smile, his fingers squeezing your thigh tenderly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Any conversation felt like it would be for your benefit rather than his. Billy seemed perfectly comfortable with what had just happened.

“Thank you,” you told him softly.

“For what?” Both confused and amused by the comment.

“For - for asking first,” your voice broke a little.

His gaze darkened, an unasked question on his lips. He was angry, not at you but at what the comment implied. Thankfully, he didn’t ask, didn’t push for an explanation you didn’t want to offer.

“You always have a choice here,” he reminded you. “You can always say no to this. I’ll never hold it against you.”

You stayed silent for a beat. “What if I don’t want to say no?”

“Then I’ll make sure you enjoy your time here with me.”

“But that’s all it’ll be?”

“Yes,” he answered, “I won’t pretend I can offer you more than that.”

“Okay, good. I-I don’t want anything serious.” The comment earned a strange smirk from him. “What?”

“I just didn’t expect you to want anything so casual. You’re constantly surprising me.”

“I -” you paused, biting your lip, “- I want to have fun. I want to experience the things I’ve been missing out on.”

“That’s something I’d be more than happy to help with, hummingbird,” he told you, smiling that cocky smile, making you want to melt.

“I’ve never...” you trailed off and saw his eyebrow raise, “I mean I’ve never done anything like... friends with benefits?”

“I thought I was paying you for your blood, not your friendship?” He smirked, recalling the terrible comment you’d made when you’d been angry with him. Then he shrugged. “It’s simple; we hang out and, if you want me to touch you, I’ll touch you. We’re just two adults having fun with an equal say in what happens.”

“Even when you give me rules to follow?” A shiver running up your spine as you remember the way he’d commanded and you’d obeyed.

“I told you, I like to be in control. But if it doesn’t work for you, there are no consequences.” He fell silent for a moment, the smirk on his lips seeming to grow. “Unless you want consequences.”

All you could do was nod, not daring to ask what kind of consequences he might have in mind.

“I have a rule too,” you dared to say.

“Oh?”

“You can’t lie to me.”

Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that but he quickly conceded. “That’s fair. As long as you follow my rule, I’ll follow yours - even when you’re in bed with your vibrator.��

Your heart almost stopped and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment.

“How did you -” you could barely get the words out, completely mortified.

“You moaned my name,” Billy continued, not in the least bit embarrassed. He’d heard you across the penthouse. “All I could think about over dinner was how wet you must have been and the way you moaned when you came.” His hand moved to your cheek, making sure your gaze didn’t drop in embarrassment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve jerked off, but listening to you had me coming all over my hand.”

Biting your lip, embarrassment and shame filled you, but Billy still wouldn’t let you look away. His thumb grazed your lip and left you speechless.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he told you, “those toys are yours to use whenever you need to, as long as you remember that your orgasms are mine now.”

You weren’t used to anyone being so candid but, you had to concede, it was exactly what made Billy the best person to help you experience new things. He knew what he was doing and he wasn’t shy about what he wanted.

“I’m not embarrassed,” an obvious lie that Billy decided not to call you on. “Things like that just aren’t exactly acceptable where I’m from.”

“Was that your first time pleasuring yourself - or was it your first time using a vibrator?” He asked, sounding like he was enquiring about something utterly mundane.

“Using a vibrator,” you answered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Well, you never have to feel ashamed of doing anything that makes you feel good while you’re here,” he told you with enviable confidence.

“Like Dorian Gray?” You offered with the smallest of smiles.

Billy let out a huff of laughter. “Does that make me your Lord Henry?”

“Only if you plan on leading me astray,” you answered back.

“Oh, little hummingbird,” he smiled, leaning towards you, “you’ve got no idea.” Before you could answer, his lips were on yours again.

Minutes ticked by with his lips on yours, enjoying everything about the moment, about him. When he finally pulled away, you let out a content sigh, smiling as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“So, this rule of yours... I take it you have a question, something you want me to answer honestly?”

You were quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Have you ever done this before, with someone living here like me?”

“No, not like this,” he answered instantly, and it was good enough for you.

As he pulled you close again, you found yourself yawning, exhaustion catching up with you. Billy checked his watch.

“Looks like I’ve kept you up past your bedtime,” he joked, sitting forward and helping you to your feet. “We can continue getting to know each other tomorrow night, if you’d like.”

You nodded, barely even noticing that the pair of you were moving until you found yourself at the door to your rooms. His weight shifted from left to right, and you knew without looking that he was still hard. Your fingers tangled with his sweater at his waist and, for a few seconds, you just looked at him. Billy gave you a smile before pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Goodnight, little hummingbird. And remember, I’ll know if you break the rules.”

Biting your lip again, you nodded, and finally pulled yourself away from him and slipped through the door.

End Note : I never know what to say after the spicier chapters so... hope you enjoyed this and it lives up to expectations. Thanks so much for all the genuinely lovely comments and feedback over last four weeks, I'm loving how much people seem to be enjoying this story!! Hope you all have a great weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl @rosey1981

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine #(ob)ts ff

208 notes · View notes

luluscoff1n · 19 days ago

Text

Feel me

(A/N here, this is my first time EVER writing a 'smvt' scene, (it's just the ending but still) I'm trying tying to get better at writing 😞 so please lmk if it's actually bad.)

WC: 741 words.

Jasper Hale had always been the quieter one of his family, preferring to observe rather than partake in the chaos of their lives. Being a vampire who had lived for over a century, he had become accustomed to the isolation that came with his existence. But then he met her—Y/N. The moment they crossed paths, everything changed. She was a human, full of warmth, kindness, and a natural kindness that struck him like nothing he had ever seen. Their relationship had blossomed over time, with moments of laughter and deep conversations. Despite the challenges their love faced, they had built a bond that made Jasper feel more alive than he had in years.

On this particular evening, Jasper’s family was out hunting in the nearby woods, leaving him alone at the Cullen home with Y/N. Though they had spent many days together, there was something about the house being empty that made it him feel like he had the entire world to themselves. The silence that typically filled the large, spacious house felt different today—there was an intimacy in it. As Y/N sat on the couch, playing on her phone, and Jasper leaned against the wall, watching her with a hardened gaze, it was clear that she was in her own little world.

Y/N looked up from her phone, catching his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her heart skip a beat, and her breath falter. Her presence had always calmed him, grounding him in a way that nothing else could.

Jasper had spent most of his life learning how to control his emotions, to suppress the bloodlust that came with being a vampire, but Y/N was different. She made him feel things that were raw and real, emotions he hadn’t experienced in years. And though he had never been one to be overly expressive, he couldn’t help but lean in closer to her, his voice once so hard and deep, now soft as he uttered her name.

The moment stretched, and in the quiet of the room, something shifted. He sat on couch beside her, watching her intently. His smirk growing as he looked in her eyes. The air between them grew thick with tension, a connection that neither could ignore. Y/N carefully closed the gap between them, her lips curving into a smile as she reached out to touch his cheek.

The touch was electrifying, sending a jolt through both of them. Y/n's heart, seemed to race in her chest, breathing intensified. Slowly, she pulled away from his lips, her face inches from his, her breath brushing across his skin. "Jas.." she murmured, her voice low, almost above a whisper.

Without another word, Jasper cupped her face gently, pulling her towards him. His lips met hers with a hunger that had been building for so long, a mix of desire and love that left them both breathless. The kiss was tender at first, but as their emotions deepened, it became more urgent. With a swift motion, Jasper pulled her from her spot, moving quickly and pressed her back against a wall going up the stairs, the coolness of the surface against her skin contrasting with the heat of their embrace.

The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feeling of her in his arms. As their kiss deepened, the house was filled with sounds of their pants and moans. He made quick work of each of their clothes, quickly discarding them as they made their way towards his room.

The kiss deepened again becoming more heavy, more passionate, creating an arousing sensations that made them both shiver. With precise vampiric speed, he moved them to his bed and laid her down gently.

He traced a path down her neck with tender kisses, his hands running through her hair. She arched against him, her fingers tangling in his bright locks. The smell of her blood, sweet and inviting, stirred something primal within him. He let out a deep growl, sending shivers down her body, heat pooling at her core. He could feel her emotions and smirked, leaving marks all down her body, as she made louder sounds as he got closer to her cunt. Urging him to continue, gripping his hair, arching her back mumbling his name in-between breathes.

He hoped the family would be gone for quite some time.

#x reader #jasper hale x reader #twilight #18+ mdni #smut #jasper hale #jasper hale smut #pls reblog and say something nice about it ^^#LEAVE A COMMENTT #i love u all

58 notes · View notes

oliversrarebooks · 2 months ago

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 78: Oliver's Awakening

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: aftermath of mind control, discussion of abuse

October 1925

Oliver writhed on the ground, his chest as tight as a drum and tears squeezing from his eyes, as all the fear and pain and shame that had been suppressed the past few months flooded him.

He'd been content, so content to give up his own life to become the servant of a vampire, hardly even struggling as he was taken and confined and ensorcelled. He'd enjoyed the vile feedings, looking forward to the vampire drinking away his blood, pleased to slump over in the vampire's arms as his life was drained, satisfied with the twin scars on his neck. He'd cheerfully allowed the vampire to pass him around like a party favor to his lover, to curl up around him as he slept, to dress him up in ball gowns and take him to vampire dens to show off…

But truly, it wasn't the shame that hurt the most -- that was just the easiest of his emotions to understand. No, the worst of it was the profound sense of emptiness. It was if Alexander's music had filled something within him he hadn't known was empty. It had given him a purpose, even if it was to follow the selfish whims of a monster, and now he was devoid. Knowing intellectually that it had never been a real purpose, just enslavement, didn't ease the sting of his heart.

Vivian crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Oliver, I know it's a lot to process. It might take days or weeks --"

"You don't know!" Oliver wrenched backwards to get away from her, furious. "You don't know what you just took. You can't!"

"I know it must hurt --"

"If you knew it would hurt like this, then why did you do it against my wishes?" Oliver demanded.

"Oliver!" Emily was standing nearby. "She was just trying to help. It's not fair to yell at her like that."

"It's not fair that I feel like this!"

"Leave him alone," said Vivian. "Let him scream at me if he wants. He's coming out of a much deeper enthrallment than you were in, Emily. It won't be easy."

"That's not true," she said indignantly. "I could barely talk, couldn't remember my past, wasn't even literate any more."

"Yes, and that's relatively easy for a vampire to do. What's been done to Oliver is far more precise and insidious, to keep him so intact on the surface while bending his desires and loyalties completely."

"Do you mind talking about me as though I'm not even here?" Oliver hated how angry he was, how he couldn't control the harshness of his voice. He was never angry, never so much as raised his voice at a difficult customer, not before he was captured. Even then, his anger had been weak, easily plucked out of his head by that damned Miss Lily. He felt sick to think of himself drowsing in her company, letting her rummage through his very mind, throw out anything she didn't like, and replacing his truth with a pretty painted facade.

"I'm sorry," said Vivian. "I know you're upset with me, but this is important. Can you still feel the connection with your former master?"

"No. It's been severed. I can't hear him anymore."

"That's good. With a vampire that powerful, it's likely that your connection is actually only weakened, not entirely destroyed. He may try to enter your head again, draw you under his sway."

Oliver nodded, ashamed that a part of him hoped he would, that Alexander's music would dull the pain. No, he would have to resist somehow. He couldn't go through all of this heartache for no reason, to go merrily skipping back into the arms of a vampire. Vivian's magic had stripped away the illusion, revealed the monster behind the handsome face.

"I'll try to resist," said Oliver shakily.

"Good, that's good. If you hear his voice, you need to tell me immediately, all right? I can help protect you, or wash out his influence again if we need to," she said. "It's my fault for not killing him when I had the chance. I was a coward. And now I'll have to plan to go after him again, before he hunts me down."

"Don't kill him!" Oliver's fervor surprised even him.

"Oliver, you'll never be safe until I do."

"I know that, but -- I don't want him to die. Maybe I should want him to die, maybe I'm still under his spell, but I can't bring myself to want him to die," he said, not understanding why he felt so strongly about this when he knew Alexander's true nature.

"He took you from your bookshop, remember?" said Emily. "The whole time we were in those cages -- at least, before Lily warped our minds -- that's all you could talk about, was your bookshop and how you had to return there. Don't you want to?"

His bookshop, and the tiny apartment above. His little safe haven, where he'd spent his entire life. The antique books locked behind the counter, the sagging shelves of the history section, the ratty armchair with the throw blankets that might still be waiting for him.

"I can't go back there," he said. "Alexander was one of my customers. He'd find me easily."

"That's why I have to kill him," said Vivian.

Mounting horror dawned on Oliver. "But even if you did kill him, it wouldn't do any good, because his sire would find out and hunt us both down. I'm sure of it."

"His sire? A vampire that powerful, and he's still beholden to his sire?"

"He's a terrifying vampire." The fear, which had been acute before, was now so much more sharp without Alexander's soothing influence. He could remember the feel of harsh fangs in his neck all too well, the panic of being unable to open his eyes. "Far more terrifying than Alexander could ever be. Alexander once told me that if we ever tried to escape him, he'd hunt us both down and make sport of it, and I believe him."

"It can't be…" Vivian muttered. "Tell me more about him, your former master's sire."

As much as Oliver didn't care to recall those memories, Vivian might actually be able to help. "I'll tell you whatever information I have. I'd be happy to see him die, and Alexander would, too. I don't know his real name, but they all call him the Maestro --"

"You've met him?" She gripped his shoulders like a madwoman. "You've actually met the Maestro?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You've heard of him?"

"He took my mother. He's the vampire I need to kill more than any other. You must tell me everything you know about him."

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said. "I can tell you everything I've learned about him, if you agree that you won't kill Alexander."

"Even if I were convinced you truly meant that and it wasn't just residual conditioning, I couldn't agree to that. Alexander is likely to come after me for taking you, and if he does, I need to be able to defend myself."

"I suppose that's true," said Oliver reluctantly. He didn't want to admit to himself that it would be ideal if Vivian were to kill the Maestro but spare Alexander, so that he would have the option of returning to the vampire without the threat of his sire hanging over their heads.

No, he must still be under the spell. He shouldn't return to Alexander under any circumstances, not if he wanted to keep a free thought in his head.

"You need to tell me," Vivian insisted. "Revenge on the Maestro is one of the main reasons I became a hunter in the first place. It wasn't just my mother who suffered. He's killed at least twenty hunters, and he's believed to have kidnapped a number of musicians and stage performers. He needs to be stopped."

"He does." Oliver sighed, feeling that tiny bit of leverage slip. "All right. I'll tell you what I know."

He tried to recall everything he could for Vivian's sake -- everything Lex had told him, and especially recounting his own experiences with the cruel vampire. Emily sat nearby, her eyes going wide with horror as Oliver described his blinding and the painful feeding. Vivian, on the other hand, was absorbing all of Oliver's words carefully.

"So when he controlled you -- was there any sort of induction he had to perform? Any conditions he had to meet?"

"I don't think so, or at least I don't remember any. Alexander didn't mention any either. He was able to puppet my body as easily as if I were a toy, and there didn't seem to be any way to resist it."

"Hm. That's going to be trouble," said Vivian, deep in thought. "And when he stopped you from opening your eyes again -- how long did it take for that enthrallment to wear off?"

"It didn't. The next day, Alexander took me to Miss -- to another vampire's home, one that specializes in hypnotizing humans, and she reversed the Maestro's command."

"A specialist in hypnotizing humans? Lily?"

"You know her too?"

"Yes, I'm aware of her."

"Are you going to kill her, too?"

"I really should, considering how many people's minds she's destroyed -- or are you going to defend her as well?"

"…No." Truthfully, he felt more conflicted about it than he should, given that Vivian was objectively correct. How many human minds had she stolen? How many lives had she cut short, selling innocent people off to vampires with nothing more than glee about her profits? She was the one who had twisted his mind, and all those feelings of comfort and warmth as he slept in her chair were nothing more than lies to keep him docile.

"So do have any idea where the Maestro lives?"

"No, I'm sorry. Those are the only two times I encountered him, and Alexander never mentioned where he lives, from what I can recall."

Vivian sighed. "It's a pity. But even so, you've given me far more information than I had yesterday, and I'm grateful for it."

"You know… both you and Alexander want the Maestro dead. Could you ever consider working together?" asked Oliver.

"Working with a vampire?"

"Only this one specific time, only to kill an even worse vampire!"

"I can't do that," said Vivian. "Even if we do have the same goal. Fighting a vampire as formidable as the Maestro would leave me vulnerable, and I can't trust that this Alexander wouldn't simply enthrall me afterwards. In fact, he'd be stupid not to, lest I kill him."

Oliver wanted to protest that Alexander wouldn't do that… except that Alexander might actually do that. After all, he had no qualms at all about buying a human at auction, even a human he previously knew as an equal. Why would he hesitate to enthrall a hunter?

"Come on," said Vivian, helping him off the floor. "We can talk more about this later. You've been through a lot tonight, and need more time to shake off the spell you've been under. We have a room that you can use, but I'm going to have to lock you in, and keep you under surveillance for now, at least until we're sure that your vampire isn't going to try and push himself into your head again."

"Fine," he said, accepting that Vivian didn't trust him. He didn't even trust himself. "Why can he still do that, if you've undone the enthrallment?"

"There's a psychic connection established when a vampire drinks your blood. It's not quite the same thing as enthrallment, and it can be very strong. It fades in days or weeks, but until then, you'll still be vulnerable to the vampire's influence."

"I see." He wondered if that applied to any vampire which had fed from him. If it did, that meant -- "But the Maestro, he…"

"Yes," she said grimly. "Has he ever entered your mind before, when he's not there in person?"

"I don't think so. I hope not."

"I hope not either. I'm not prepared to fight him just yet. If you sense anything, you need to tell me right away."

"Yes, of course."

Vivian led Oliver out of the attic and into a room little bigger than a closet, with a cot and a small chest of drawers. "You should get some rest," she said, herding Oliver inside. "You'll feel better once you have. Is there anything you need?"

"A glass of water, please?" asked Oliver, sitting on the edge of the cot. "And if you have any interesting books…"

"Certainly. I'll see what I can do."

Oliver waited patiently for Vivian to return with the water and a couple of old magazines. As soon as she left the room and he heard the lock click shut, he fell back onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't even be able to concentrate on reading, not with all the thoughts crowding his head.

He was free.

Wasn't he?

It was terribly hard to feel free when he was locked into a small room, the threat of his vampiric master and his sire still hanging over his head like an executioner's axe. The confinement was for his own safety, and he understood the reasons, but he wouldn't actually be free until both Alexander and the Maestro had ceased to walk the earth.

He was frustrated with himself. He shouldn't care so much about the well-being of a vampire who had literally purchased him at auction. And yet…

Now that the initial shock and fear had worn off, he was finding himself gripped by a deep and profound sadness. The cot he lay on was hard and cold, and he couldn't suppress his longing for his bed at home -- no, Alexander's bed. It wasn't ever his. He'd been hypnotized to share it, to cuddle up with a monster.

He'd been hypnotized into affection.

And it was really the only affection he'd had since he was a child, wasn't it? He'd lived such a solitary and quiet life, spending almost every night alone in his small apartment with books for company. Even the simple pleasure of curling up to read next to someone else had been foreign to him until he came into Alexander's possession.

And it had all been a fabrication meant to keep him compliant, hadn't it? He shouldn't miss it. He should be glad to be rid of it.

But the thought of returning to his solitary life, of never experiencing actual tenderness, was crushing him inside. He'd been starving for so many years, but it had been bearable when he didn't know what he was missing. Now that he knew that his choice was between actual loneliness and false companionship, he could only be ashamed at the parts of himself which preferred the lie.

No, he had to press on somehow. He couldn't return himself to a monster, no matter how charming. He should be happy to be freed. He could have his own life back. He could sleep during the night and wake during the day, and walk in the sunshine, and choose to go wherever he pleased.

He could take what little money he had stashed in his bookshop and take a train out of town, or a boat overseas, see the new places that he dreamed about but never got around to visiting. He could start his life over, do something else with it. Live a fuller life in the here and now rather than wait in his lonely little bookshop, wait for something to happen to him. Something had happened to him, and it should have taught him a lesson about choosing what he wants before it's chosen for him.

It was exhilarating. But…

For all his newly gained freedom, he still had no idea what he actually wanted. The desire for fangs in his neck was fake, but at least it was a clear desire. What did he want before, apart from books and safety? And who was he now, now that he knew the dangerous world of the supernatural lurked just behind every streetlamp, just waiting to pull him into it?

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week: Oliver is not as free as he might have hoped.

I'll also have a Christmas-adjacent self-indulgent vampire story up tomorrow, so please keep an eye out! And vote in the holiday edition of Sedation Vending Machine!

Thanks for reading this story another year, and happy holidays!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush @cepheusgalaxy

@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly @ium1naryy @wumpbean

#whump #whump writing #vampires #mind control #vampire hunter #vampire whump #rare bookseller #oliver #vivian #emily

80 notes · View notes

luminoustarlight · 1 year ago

Text

love bites, love bleeds

thinking about vampire!anakin skywalker for no other reason other than it’s october. vampires are sexy. anakin is sexy. here we go. tw: blood, smutty themes, stalking just a lil bit.

for the sake of these thoughts let’s say anakin has been a vamp for at least a hundred years so he knows what works for him. he’ll do blood bags, he’ll do small animals, but nothing beats feeding from a willing human with a beating heart.

if you ask anakin, he’s not one to become attached. a little thing called immortality makes it rather inconvenient to harbor such feelings. human life is too fleeting, too temporary, too fragile for anakin to get mixed up with.

there was one woman— padmé amidala. she was a princess and future queen. her regal gracefulness swept anakin off of his feet, not long after he became a vampire. he was so young and naïve, he didn’t know any better. this beautiful woman cared for him despite his lust for blood, despite his sometimes murderous thoughts.

their relationship ended before padmé’s coronation when she told anakin she wouldn’t turn.

anakin promised himself he’d never fall in love with a human again. not when he knows how it will end every single time. however, no matter how much he suppresses it, he has the same basic desire to love and be loved.

and when anakin sees you, walking home from yoga on a warm summer morning, he goes against his better judgement and starts watching you.

you work at a boutique downtown, you don’t go out with friends very often, and you go to yoga every saturday morning. you undress in front of your window with the curtains open, a flighty thought that no one is looking in.

anakin wanted to scold you. he wanted to tell you how reckless it is to expose yourself to nosy neighbors, peeping tom’s (and a horny vampire). were you really that stupid to think nobody is looking at you through your window? or did you just not care?

anakin had an incessant desire to look after you. he leased an apartment right across from yours that just so happened to become vacant in september.

something changed that evening, though. your curtains were drawn and anakin could no longer watch you get ready for bed.

he visited you at the boutique the next day.

you held no reservations inviting him to your apartment after your shift. there was something so irresistible about him. striking blue eyes to take your breath away and a smile to make you swoon, you were already falling into his gravitational pull.

you let him have you that night. as he rocked his hips into you, he sunk his teeth into your neck. the simultaneous sting of anakin’s thick cock in your tight cunt and sharp teeth in your supple neck sent you reeling. you weren’t sure if it was the way he was hitting your cervix or the gradual loss of blood that made you lightheaded.

anakin was the one who was feeding on you but you were intoxicated. he was the one being nourished, yet you were filled with desire. you wrapped your arms around his back like a life preserver, clinging to this man— not a monster but not a human either, like he’s the only thing that matters.

“oh, you sweet girl,” anakin whispered to you, two rough pads of his fingers finding your swollen nub. your pussy felt so wonderful around him. it’s where he belonged. “you are mine now.”

you nodded and whined through a powerful orgasm, scratching your nails down the strong muscles of anakin’s back. you were claiming him as much as he was claiming you. anakin had marked you with puncture marks on both sides of your neck, he came inside of you with the intentions of breeding you if he could. your life was irrevocably changed that september night.

falling into late october, you have spent every day with anakin. your relationship has become incredibly co-dependent but anakin takes care of you more than anything. he makes sure your fridge and pantry is well stocked, he always reminds you to eat and drink water- he can’t afford to have you pass out on him. he has dinner ready for you when you come home from the boutique.

he doesn’t feed every day. he doesn’t have to. but you enjoy it. you want him to. you want to be the only one he feeds off of because he is yours and you are his. he bites. you bleed.

#anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker headcanon #vampire!au #vampire anakin skywalker #vampire!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader

312 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 4 months ago

Text

The Girl Next Door - X

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more gif and pics from pinterest

he tastes like candy, he’s so beautiful -Awful, Hole 🤘

10. little bird

Wick says nothing more, just holds your gaze, and again you feel like the floor is going out from beneath you. You’ve become accustomed to your cooler body temperature, but now for the umpteenth time tonight you feel hot beneath the collar.

“It’s…just a coincidence.”

“Surely.” He smirks at you, laughing at you, deep down.

Asshole.

One extremely fine, extremely dangerous, asshole.

Glaring at the two of you eye-fucking eachother, Constantine clears his throat. “Are we trying to find don Juan or not? Otherwise, I should get to Midnite’s.”

You look to John. Despite the energy you’d shared with him, he still has dark circles under his eyes, still seems just this side of fragile. You remember how much blood you had to take from him last time, to call up that much excess power, that it just felt like you were floating above your corporeal body. You’re not sure he can spare it, now. If you sent him to an early grave with blood loss you know you would walk yourself right out into the sun.

On the other hand, there is Wick, robust, full of blood, and who you wouldn’t feel guilty at all about taking down a peg or two. His smile widens as he notices you assessing him like a piece of meat, his powerful body sprawled in the rickety old chair–maybe he wouldn’t be so smug, however, if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Depends,” you answer John. “Will you let me in, or are you going to keep stonewalling me?”

“I’m not exactly in the habit of leaving my aura hanging wide open. It leads to bad things in my business,” he grumbles.

You suppose, considering his occupation, that’s understandable. But you also think he’s making excuses to shut you out.

“Uh huh.”

You cross the cracked linoleum floor to him. He’s so tall that you’re nearly eye to eye, even with him sitting, and even though you already fed once tonight, just looking at him like this kindles that insatiable hunger in your belly, a lick of desire that curls in you like smoke from an opium pipe. Heady. Wonderful. Addictive. Shields up or not, you know he feels it too in the bond between you, his lips parting with a gasp, his pupils dilating to turn his dark irises purest black.

He takes your hand, and the energy that ignites between you as his long fingers slide into yours fills the dilapidated room with something bright and charged. It even makes Wick sit up straighter in his chair. It feels like sunshine on your face, when you were still human, and you cannot suppress a sigh of enjoyment.

They both seem surprised when you hold out your other hand to Wick. “Come here.” The vampire hunter obeys, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as he approaches, his presence a solid line of warmth at your back.

With an almost quizzical look, Wick takes your hand. His fingers are calloused, and strong, and his touch feels like a live wire gripped in your hands. Reincarnated sweethearts or not–your magic likes him, and you think you can work with that.

Constantine’s frown as he watches this exchange is thunderously contemptuous. “We gonna sing kumbaya now, baby?” he gripes at you.

“No. We’re going to find don Juan, and Mr. Wick here is going to cut off his fucking head. Got a problem with that?”

You see the corner of his mouth tick for the barest second, his only indication of mirth before he throws himself wide open to you, and the mingled energies of these two powerful men rips through you like an electric shock.

♰♰♰

Maybe John Constantine is ill, but you were a fool to think him weak. One mouthful of blood taken carefully from his wrist is so power-charged you practically see stars. It’s possible that adding Wick’s rich blood to the cocktail nearly renders you drunk, so giddy you think you might hover physically off the ground. But the two men on either side of you keep you anchored, vying even now in their holds upon you.

It’s funny, maybe, that you thought it would keep things tame, drinking from the wrist. But there is an agonizing tension amidst the three of you, unsatisfied lust and painful longing. It all adds a particular spice to this conjuring you work as the focus between them, and you are able to rise with barely a thought this time.

It’s more familiar, this second time you wander through the minds of the city, and you are more careful as you sift through them like grains of rice, in search of that one poisoned seed. You think you are successful more than once, before realizing they are just don Juan’s awful progeny, but not the original root of that particular brand of evil.

You are surprised, when in your wandering you encounter Angela, the detective John Constantine so secretly fancied. She is in her apartment, working at her laptop. There is a glow of such goodness about her that is rare to find in humans. Her aura is practically a halo, it shines so bright. She is warm, and smart, and strong, and it’s no wonder John likes her, you think to yourself sadly.

You probe a little deeper, finding that at this moment she is thinking about John. She likes him too, though she’s puzzled as to why. That is a feeling you understand all too well. She must feel your presence, looking up as though there is something in the room with her, reaching out to put a hand on her service issue Glock on the desk next to her. She’s already had quite a scare after her first encounter with real demons, and guiltily you back off, not wanting to upset her.

You are about to give up your search, feeling that you have stretched yourself to the limit, when at last you sense him. That seething, cloying dark energy that follows don Juan like a cloud. You are more cautious in your approach this time, keeping your distance as you observe him. It seems he retreated north into the mountains, to a chic but almost quaint little house tucked into the hillside. He sits beside a glittering swimming pool, smoking and brooding. The moment you sense him turning your way you retreat, returning to your body, too quickly perhaps.

It’s disorienting, after being weightless, to wrangle with your flesh and bones, like it’s hard to get all the pieces of you to mesh back again. You would have fallen, if not for two pairs of strong hands steadying you. You lean back on a broad chest. Constantine is before you, you recognize, which makes the imposing wall behind you still Wick. You are either the luckiest girl in the world, or you are cursed. You still haven’t decided which yet.

“Back off,” snarls Constantine to the dhampir, pulling you into his arms.

Wick growls, and you can't help but feel like the bone between two cranky dogs. You really shouldn't be enjoying it so much.

“Are you alright?”

You think you’re fine, but you’re tired. You didn’t travel that far, last time, or search with such purpose in mind. It took a lot more energy than you thought it would.

“He’s in Laurel Canyon,” you whisper against Constantine’s chest. “North end. A little cottage with stone facing, clay tile roof. There’s a bronze statue of horses out front.” You think back, and realize you even remember the house number. You manage to say it out loud before the room starts to spin. Are you going to be sick? “I don’t feel good.”

“I warned you,” grouses Constantine, even while his hand sits protectively on the back of your head.

“She did well,” defends Wick. “This will save me time.”

Sitting back down, Constantine pulls you into his lap, away from the dhampir. You hate to admit how good it feels to curl into him like a child who’s had a nightmare, his arms around you.

“Great,” he snarks to Wick. “Feel free to go.”

Wick snorts in answer, still looking down at you. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Reluctantly you nod against Constantine’s collarbone, closing your eyes. “I’ll be fine. Will you be fine by yourself?”

Wick laughs lowly at this, but not unkindly. “No worries, ptichka, no more flying around for you. I will give don Juan your regards.”

“Please, kick him in the nuts for me,” you grumble. The thought of that awful vampire finally getting his comeuppance is darkly satisfying.

“Would you like me to bring you his head?”

“Ew.”

Wick laughs, and you hear his footfalls as he crosses the kitchen to the crumpled vampire in the corner. You’d almost forgotten about the poor bastard. “I will see you soon,” says the dhampir, winking at you before dragging the informant out by his ankles.

A strange quiet settles over the apartment, without the ominous dark energy of John Wick filling the room.

You should be scared of him–but you kind of miss him.

“Alone at last,” grouses Constantine, his hold on you tightening.

You laugh a little, snuggling into the bend of his neck. You start to feel better, sitting like this with him. His hand drifts to your thigh, tracing the hem of his shirt absently. “Was this really the only thing you could come up with to wear?”

“You don’t like it, John?” you tease sleepily.

“I like it a lot. For my eyes only.”

“Hmm. I think that’s something only a boyfriend gets to say,” you dare ripost.

He snorts in answer. “If I was your boyfriend, would I get to tell you what to do?”

“No.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He coughs, and only a beat later do you realize it was a laugh.

But then he can’t help but ruin the moment:

“I thought the dhampir was your new boyfriend, Miss I’ll come visit you in New York,” he complains in an insulting falsetto.

You, in turn, just roll your eyes. “Excuse you, but I saved you from getting your head lopped off. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Then, he has to go and turn serious on you. “Baby, when I’m gone–” You whine, hating hearing him say it aloud, but he talks over you. “It’s going to happen, y/n. You’ve got to accept that. And when it does, you cannot take up with him. He is bad news. Call it…my dying wish.”

You’re smart enough to bite down on your first response, which is, ‘he doesn’t seem so bad.’

It turns out you don’t have any reply at all, and he watches you with an intensity that makes you fear he can read your mind. You’re not sure why he takes mercy on you, saying more gently, “You can’t save him, sweetheart. Any more than you can save me.”

You look down, because his laser-like gaze is too much, even for you.

Part of the reason you want to get this thing solved so badly is because you hope you can save him. Maybe with the help of modern medicine, and your own combined magic…something might work out. Buy him some time, at least. He already seems better, after finally letting you into your bond earlier that night.

Maybe he’s resigned, but you haven’t completely given up hope.

“I just…want to get this thing resolved,” you admit. “So you can rest.”

He lifts one of those angular dark brows, clearly thinking that the only rest waiting for him is the permanent kind. But he doesn’t insist again that you accept the inevitable truth of his demise. Sometimes, when you care about someone, you let them get away with those little lies that keep them sane through the day to day grind of life. Maybe he realizes that you need this, so that you don’t run down the street screaming at God and anyone else unfortunate enough to get in your path.

“Sure, honey.” He surprises you again, when he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to put you to bed, and I have to go to Midnite’s.”

You know the kittenish sound that escapes your lips sounds ridiculous. “Let me go with you.”

“You’re wiped out. Stay here and rest.”

“No.” You sit up, feeling a little better. Tired, but better.

“Yes,” he insists, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I’m just going to follow you, if you try to leave me here.”

“For once, can you not be so stubborn when I’m trying to protect you?”

Your lips dance as you try to suppress a smile, lifting an eyebrow. “I could ask the same thing of you?”

Another exasperated growl escapes him, and your heart sings when he pulls you into another kiss, that golden rope between you pulsing with energy, singing with light. He pulls back to look at you, his pupils blown wide. You wonder if it occurs to him, that this could be his last chance to be with a woman, if things outside this crumbling apartment do not go well. Or maybe, just maybe, he finds you as irresistible as you find him. Either way, when he tangles his long fingers in your hair and kisses you again, you are all too ready to lean in.

You’re not sure how it’s possible, that this man simultaneously breaks your heart, and puts you back together again.

When he stands with you in his arms you give a sound of protest, worried about the extra exertion.

“I’m fine, y/n,” he tells you with a rare gentleness that to you is precious as any gemstone. “I’ve got you.”

He carries you to the bed in the next room, and you are more than happy to let him have his way with you.

______

*ptichka - little bird

77 notes · View notes

the-insomniac-emporium · 10 months ago

Text

Bela + Morning/Aftercare

Not requested, just felt like giving myself a prompt. This was originally just Bela + Morning but my brain kinda shifted it, so oops, guess this technically isn't a one word prompt fill anymore. Features a gender-neutral reader, Bela's implied to be your wife (I don't think I used the word, but y'all have rings), and there's the heavy implication that the two of you fucked the night before (maybe a bit roughly, at that, but she is a vampire lady, so...).

Under read-more for length, at 1200 words.

-----

Always being the first to wake had its perks, at times, even if it often meant overcoming pangs of loneliness. Most mornings have Bela going for a short walk, then perhaps taking care of a few things for her slumbering siblings and mother. Other times she simply used the opportunity to relax in peace. Today was one of the latter days, and for good reason, her body still pressed tightly against you, the soft blanket your only protection from the cool morning air.

Last night had been… eventful, for the two of you. Undoubtedly you would eventually awaken to find yourself sore, perhaps with a few light bruises, but with the bite on your shoulder freshly bandaged. Bela never neglected aftercare. Most of it had occurred before you fell asleep, of course, some tasks simply bear repeating now.

Carefully, slowly, Bela untangles herself from the sheets, leaving a gentle kiss on your brow when you instinctively reach out for her. All the air in her lungs becomes pointless at the sight of your sleeping smile. Even in the depths of your dreams, her touch was something to savor, a source of great comfort. Bearing a grin of her own, she forces herself to turn towards the ensuite. She’d get to admire you plenty while taking care of your scratches.

Glancing down at her nails, she can’t help but pause, inspecting the dried blood under the edge. Perhaps her grip on your back had been tighter than she remembered. Making a mental note to grab some soothing salve from the cupboard, she quickly cleans up by the sink. It’s not thorough, mostly just taming her hair and washing off the aforementioned dried blood, but she fully intended to save her bath for when you can join her.

By the time she returns to bed, you’ve started to stir. Briefly, your eyes open, squinting up at your beloved, and you offer her a meek murmur for a greeting. With the way you look at her, but don’t quite see her, Bela can only assume that you aren’t truly awake yet. Allowing herself a chuckle, she sets up her medkit next to your weary form. Ever so gently she sets about removing the temporary bandage from your shoulder. Instantly the scent of dried blood hits her, making her dizzy for a split second, and she looks at your bite marks with both pride and desire.

Part of her is eager to bite again, to further mark you as her own. But she quashes those instincts, suppresses them, knowing that there is no need to be so possessive. Not only are you loyal in your affections, the ring on your finger makes it clear to others that you are her partner. When she leans in close, it is not to reopen wounds. Instead, she allows herself a single, slow lick. Not much comes from it, the metallic taste less strong than she preferred, yet it still sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

“My sweet darling,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before beginning to dab a wet cloth against the bite. Each touch is gentle, soothing, only barely enough pressure to clean the dried blood. Bela begins humming one of her mother’s songs as she works. It’s a light melody, flowing and curling around itself, that fills the air with a pleasant buzz. “There we go, much better,” she speaks, applying an antibacterial cream, continuing her humming until the bandage is in place.

At last, you stir further, blinking up at her with growing awareness. Something warm blossoms in Bela’s chest when she sees how quickly you light up at the sight of her. Immediately your hands are reaching for her, wanting to cup her face or intertwine your fingers with hers. The first she allows, the latter she pulls back from, making a clear display of wiping her hands off on a spare cloth. No need to get medicine all over your hand. With the way you pout, she wants nothing more than to kiss you until you’re both desperate for air.

“Soon, draga mea, let me finish tending your wounds, understood?” Bela says, taking on a playfully stern tone. Although it takes a moment for you to process her words, having forgotten the ache of your body until now, your pout soon subsides. Then you cautiously shift, allowing her easier access to the pattern work of scratches across your back. “Very good.” This time her voice is more intimate, reminiscent of the night before, sending blood rushing to your cheeks. Once more she kisses your skin, this time where the back of your neck meets your shoulder.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice muffled by the pillow you cling to. Naturally, it’s the same pillow that Bela had been laying against half an hour ago. Your own was pushed off to the side, forgotten, teetering dangerously close to the mattress’ edge. The sight amuses Bela, and she has to stifle a chuckle, lest you think she’s laughing at your affection instead.

“And I love you. Now hold still, this may sting but for a moment, then the pain will fade,” she explains, a smile evident in the curl of her words. She waits for you to give a hum of acknowledgment before beginning to rub the salve into the skin of your back. True to her word, it has a slight burn, but it’s not enough to make you wince or whimper. Compared to the pain you gladly endured for her love-bites, this was hardly even a nuisance. If anything… the feeling of Bela’s touch, the gentle kneading of your flesh, is rather pleasant. Of course she notices, and leans down to murmur something teasing in Romanian.

Even if you don’t understand the specifics, you get the gist, and once again feel heat rushing to your face. This time Bela does not try to hide her laughter, the sound almost lilting. It’s bright. Warm. Entirely perfect, just as she is to you.

A few minutes pass, far too quickly for your liking, before you hear the sound of the medicinal jar closing with a satisfying click. For a moment, Bela makes no move. It’s not until you try to turn to look at her that she shifts, a hand on your shoulder keeping you down, the feeling of her breath fanning against your neck making you freeze. Pleased with your obedience, Bela releases you with a soft hum. Then she slips into bed next to you, in a familiar position, gesturing for you to lay on top of her.

“Come closer, draga mea, let me savor your warmth while the salve does its job. We can bathe once the medicine is absorbed,” Bela explains, and you start obeying before she even finishes speaking. As you curl against her, ensuring your back remains off of the bed, she quickly glances at the clock. Good, she muses, still plenty of time before breakfast.

Yes, there are many perks to being such an early riser. The grandest of which is that she can enjoy this time with you, her duties fulfilled, her only work left to care and cherish her darling.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #reader insert #x reader #this is her re8 version btw #not the RL one

107 notes · View notes

dyke-quixote · 2 months ago

Text

A lot of people overlook the issue of emotional regulation Bloodfiends have and instead just equate them to typical vampires. Their desire for blood seems to have less to do with the fact it's blood and more because they literally cannot seem to feel much emotions on their own.

It is not a physical need but rather an emotional one. There's Something to be said of the overarching themes of emotion and time and humanity and light. (My essay on emotions and time and Angela and how the time reveal literally answered The Question she had is for another day.)

Bloodfiends need to have fresh blood in order to feel happiness (and definitely other strong emotions too) but that's not the only thing that can help. Bari realized giving a dream to a Bloodfiend could help, something to have faith in. But it has to be strong enough to break down the extreme barrier of apathy Bloodfiends seem to have.

Sancho did not crave blood when she didn't have memories despite Rocinante not suppressing it because she didn't remember needing it and she had her own way of getting emotions.

I also think there is something very important about Quixote calling it a sickness or illness. Something Carmen said. And it is once again related to emotions, or lack of empathy. How she changed her course to the only cure is not to care about others but to be entirely selfish. But Quixote being selfish in his dreams cured himself but not his family.

There's just a lot going on here that I really really like.

#lore #canto 7 spoilers

41 notes · View notes

sinful-lanterns · 9 months ago

Note

i just heard about monster!sinners and i suddenly thought about something..what if we have vampire!Lady Pearl..i would let her suck my blood not gonna lie..💕 ~🦽 anon

Vampire! Pearl seems like the type of monster to cleverly trap the Researcher in her castle and toy with her to be her “pet.” Like most vampires, Pearl can be quite sadistic and manipulative, yet instead of using those tendencies to drain the Researcher dry of her blood, she instead uses her hypnotism to make the Researcher her cute little dress up doll!

Though the desire to bite the Researcher and drink her is apparent in Pearl’s needs, she would rather play with her food than eat it, and instead treat you as if you were another one of her puppets to manhandle. (She simply adores making you the lead actress in her fake plays)

However, if she’s feeling extra ravenous, she might accidentally let her instincts slip through and bend you to her will so she could take a sip of your sweet, sweet blood. Pearl is good at suppressing her hunger, but she still needs to feed…

#⛓️ interrogation complete #🦽 anon #monster au

75 notes · View notes

madforhoran · 1 year ago

Text

Reunion (pt. 2)

Pt. 1 - here

So...it's done. Gonna be honest, I didn't follow the prompt completely (would bet too much for me 😅)

X X X

The sun was slowly setting over the horizon, the lower it was, the more nervous you got. Unsure if you could handle more teasing and tension. Seeing him again awakened all of the feelings and so much more. You wished to make up for the lost time, all that time you should’ve been there with him and for him. Too late to fix the past but maybe not too late to have hopes for the future alongside him.

When the sky turned deep red, you buckled your cloak, patted down your skirt, and picked up a bundle of herbs you collected that could be of interest to him. Some were useful purely for their scent, others for their poisonous effects.

It was time to go.

Rivington Mill wasn’t far up ahead, definitely not for you when you used Misty Step. Spellcasting partially drained you as well, which was a desired state to get your adrenaline and nerves under control. You Misty Stepped right to the mill’s door, which were slightly ajar, and knocked, but there was no answer.

“Hello? Astarion, are you here?”

You stepped inside. The circular room of the mill was dimly lit with candles, a singular log was burning in the fireplace. On the left side there were shelves packed up with big, mid-size, and small jars which you could safely guess was blood. On the opposite side was a simple bed with nice bedding and pillows. You noticed however that he never got rid of the ratty old blanket he carried throughout your journey together.

“Look up, darling.” You heard suddenly and almost jumped out of your own skin. Gods! There he was, up on the wall…the wall? Wait, what, how? Then in a second he was gone, poofed away the same way his siblings did when they came to kidnap him from camp. What in the hells was going on?

“Now look behind you.” A whisper brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him and were met with eyes alight with childlike glee. He wore a simple but elegant blue blouse-shirt and form-fitting trousers which weren’t leaving much left to be desired. More often than not you could recall misdirecting a spell because you stared at his ass and legs instead of focusing on casting. His beauty yet again caused your breath to pause and your brain to malfunction, and you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him. You felt him melt into your touch without a single word. Shocking for someone who usually had something witty to say. His arms encircled your waist and you let out the breath you’d been holding, pulling away from the hug. You noticed a slight hint of disappointment crossing his features when you did so and his arms dropped from your body with hesitancy.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said with a tender smile adorning his lips. There was only one person in this room with surprises but it certainly wasn’t you. “Me?!” you asked, dumbfounded. “Gods above, Astarion, you can climb walls and…poof? How?”

“Oh yes, that is something I’ve discovered in the past couple of months, actually,” he waved his hand dismissively but you could hear in his voice it was a big deal. Of course it was!

“Vampire spawn have powers, we just didn’t know about them because Cazador was suppressing them. For two hundred years…making me believe I was weak,” he added with a contemptuous sneer. Your palms balled into fists at the name. Fucking bastard. It meant that finally Astarion could enjoy some benefits of vampirism, not only drawbacks, pain, and loss. There was another piece you’d lost, though - witnessing the exact moment he’d found out what he could do. Stop it, you told yourself, no point in dwelling on what ifs.

“You were never weak,” you corrected him. “Never.”

He let out a bashful cough and pointed at the herb bundle you were still clutching in your palm. “Are those for me?”

“Yes, uh, I thought you could use some for your perfumes and some for poisons to kill bad guys with,” you said.

He eyed the bundle with utmost interest and took it from your hand. “Really? How…sweet. Thank you.”

Ever so thankful was one of the things you loved about him. You hadn’t known anyone else thanking you so many times for absolutely basic things. Heat rushed to your cheeks as he reached out for the clasp of your cloak. “May I?”

You nodded silently and the cloak fell to the floor. Suddenly you didn’t know what to do with your arms or where to look. The “perks” of being sober around someone whom you desired so badly it impeded any rational thought. Felt as if floodgates of all the repressed emotions opened, partially two days ago but fully right now. You’d kept it under control during the whole end of the world and mindflayer domination threat and then had been too busy with rebuilding Sorcerous Sundries alongside Gale and Rolan. With all of that dealt with, only one thing was missing from your life. The man standing right in front of you.

“Let’s sit down,” he suggested, breaking the awkward silence. “I’ve bought some food for you.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Just trying to be a good host,” he shrugged.

“I don’t want to eat alone,” you said. “Dine with me.”

He chuckled. “Have you forgotten, dear? I can’t eat normal food.”

“I meant blood.”

He nodded and stepped away from you to take one of his blood jars. “No.” You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “My blood.”

“Are you sure?” He was puzzled. You managed to surprise him yet again. “I’m serious, Astarion,” you answered firmly. He smiled and poofed out of the room. “Show-off!” you yelled after him, smiling as well.

He served you pieces of meat, veg, and bits of fruit. Most likely stolen rather than bought but you weren’t about to question him. You laid down your forearm, inviting him to drink. Giving you one last look of making sure you’re alright with it, he sank his teeth into your wrist. You bit on the meat to distract yourself from the initial pain. Nonetheless, he was trying to be gentle. You remembered him draining villains during the battles, he paid no mind. It was vicious, primal, and it made him stronger. The first taste of freedom from Cazador.

You finished half of the plate when he stopped drinking and began massaging the puncture wounds with his thumb. The pupils of his crimson eyes were dilated, the drunken smile and your blood dripping down his chin were oh-so-inviting for you to do what you’d dreamed of doing. Kissing him. Simple as that.

“Invigorating, my dear, thank y–” he didn’t get to finish as you leant from your chair and almost did it, stopping right in front of his face, so close you could see the tiny crows feet and every other beautiful crinkle. “I–oh gods,” you mumbled, sitting back down on the chair. “Yes, darling, what is it?” he responded with his typical teasing tone. Bloodloss and lust, that’s what it was. And excruciating love.

“Tell me.”

You sighed. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” he asked provocatively. “That I’m enjoying this evening immensely? Because I am.”

That you feel the same way I do.

Despite playing this cat and mouse game, you knew. He wasn’t hiding it. There was no point wasting more time looking at him when you could be doing other things. Screw it. You stood up from the chair, braced yourself against the table, and ungracefully landed in his lap. You couldn’t help not noticing his crotch was stiff against your hip.

“Say where you’d like me to kiss you.”

His arms encircled your waist again as yours found their way around his neck, playing with his soft curls. Utter perfection. You had to remind yourself to continue breathing steadily.

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” he smirked. No, he did not use on you what you’d told him all those months ago when he’d asked you to join him in his tent during the tiefling party. The conversation was so fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday.

“Oh, you need a little bit of enticing,” you countered, moving your right hand to gently cup his cheek. “Take your pick.” You began tracing your forefinger and middle finger over his cheekbone, up to his forehead, then sliding them down the slope of his perfect nose. When you reached the cupid’s bow of his lips, he parted them slightly as if gasping for breath.

“How about I kiss you instead?”

Gods above, please.

He moved his head closer so you could smell the blood he drank from you and then he finally lightly pressed his lips to yours. Your entire body came alive and it was just the beginning. He teased you yet again by pulling away a little when you tried to deepen the kiss so you pressed yourself harder against him, eliciting a groan that made your quiver. His cock was straining against his trousers, begging for release.

You pried his lips open with your tongue, grazing it over his fangs, nudging his tongue to meet yours. It felt so familiar yet so different this time, real. Without breaking the connection he pushed your hips upwards towards the table and you sat down with your legs apart, your centre burning like fires of Avernus. He positioned himself with his hardened cock resting against your lower belly, felt it twitching as you closed the miniscule distance between you, hugging his slim hips with your thighs and hooking your legs around his.

He broke the kiss gently, allowing you to take a breath and steady your heartbeat. “Careful, darling, don’t faint on me…as much of a compliment as it would be.”

Sly little shit. He was right though, he could feel everything with his heightened vampiric senses. It allowed you to regain some semblance of sanity, which was a miracle all by itself.

There was one important thing you had to come back to despite telling yourself not to dwell on the past.

…it brings up the feelings of disgust and loathing.

“What’s wrong, are you unwell?” he asked with a hint of worry when you didn’t react immediately.

You shook your head. “No, it’s just…I thought of the things you said at Moonrise, and–”

“Hush, love,” he pressed a finger to your lip. His eyes blazed with fire matching your own. “Let me tell you something. A confession, if you will…I asked Gale to send me a pigeon once a week to tell me how you’re faring. If you’re still…you know. His answers were always, I quote: ‘She’s talking about you constantly, with a tedium that I’m sure many would say rivals my own. Why can’t you go see her and spare us all this torment? Insufferable, both of you’.” He mimicked Gale’s way of speaking and finished with a dramatic eye roll. You had to suppress a snort. Unbelievable that this man enlisted poor Gale into sending him information, even more unbelievable that Gale agreed and kept it a secret.

“Trust me, I wanted to but I wasn’t sure I was ready. I’ve spent all this time thinking about us, about my difficulties. Figuring it out, fantasizing even. It was very, uh, helpful. And then that poor excuse for a skeleton gave me the perfect opportunity I couldn’t miss. You showed up…and here we are. I am ready.” He squeezed your hips, pulling you near again, amusement and challenge crossing his godlike features. “Now shall we go back to you adorably trying to seduce me?”

You poked him in the chest playfully. “I’ve already succeeded at this daunting task, don’t you think?”

He guffawed. “How so, darling? I still have all my clothes on.”

Insufferable indeed. In spite of his assurances, you wanted to be mindful. He deserved to be loved with utmost care and attention. To feel safe enough to stop if need be.

“Tell me about those fantasies,” you prompted him, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I’d rather show you.”

You gasped as he lifted you from the table and guided you onto his bed. He laid you down, gliding on top like a cat, not breaking eye contact. Your skirt rolled up as he did so, exposing the already soaked underwear and he pressed his crotch right against it. “This is already so much better than my imagination.”

A thrill ran through your entire body from head to toe. Not many things tasted sweeter than his praise.

“May I?” you asked, tugging on one of the buttons of his shirt. “Yes.”

The lower you went, the shakier your hands were but it was worth the reward. Every single lean muscle on him was sculpted to perfection. A soft, barely audible sigh escaped his lips as you caressed his pectorals and slid the shirt away to fully reveal his glorious upper body.

“My turn now,” he smirked. Safe to say your blouse didn’t survive unscathed as he ripped the buttons off with his teeth. Fuck. “I’ll fix it later,” he mumbled, ripping your bra as well. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The skirt followed along with the drenched panties. He scanned you, eyes blazing with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, robbing you off reason. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

More words of praise making your mind spin and your body tingle.

“Show me what’s next,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice anymore.

“I’ll let you guess, my dear.”

Accepting the challenge, you grabbed his shoulders gently, pushing him off of you onto his back. You searched his features for unspoken approval or signs of discomfort as you towered over him, slowly drawing your hands towards the waistband of his trousers. “Getting warmer,” he murmured enthusiastically.

“How very predictable,” you retorted, sliding down to grab the waistband with your mouth, not letting your eyes off of him. He bucked his hips up as you tugged, exposing his raging erection clothed in elegantly embroidered underwear, and lean thighs. There was nothing on this man’s body that wasn’t absolutely infuriatingly exquisite. He bucked his hips again and moaned as you slid down the underwear too, baring his cock adorned by a string of precum glistening at the tip. Smut peddlers at Sharess’s Caress would be struggling to describe the beauty in front of you. There were simply not enough words and none of them were accurate either.

“Breathtaking.”

“I know.”

“Cocky ass.”

He grinned and took your arm, dragging you on top of him. “But that’s what you like about me, darling, or not?”

“Hm, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh, and what might help with this terrible ordeal?” he asked with a smug look. To Hells with him. Instead of answering, you brushed the palm of your hand against his cock in a taunt, the slickness of precum wetting it. As you attempted to lift it, he placed his hand on yours and squeezed. He found your mouth as you began stroking his length, his sweet moans muffled with the kisses. Your willpower was stretching thinner and thinner, you wanted him inside you, filling you up, but you’d do only what he wanted to do. His pleasure, real pleasure was more important than your own. Being able to touch him, feel him against your skin, was already enough of a gift after so much time apart.

“Tighter and faster, darling,” he urged you and so you did as he asked, tightening your grip. His fangs almost cut your lip as he moaned loudly, deliciously. He jerked his hips up each time your hand went down in perfect sync, searching for release. After a few more strokes you felt him spasming, cum spraying over his abdomen. “Have you decided now?” he quipped, brushing stray hairs from your face. “Nuh huh.” You smiled and collected some of the cum on your fingers, licking them clean.

“Gods below,” he hissed.

“Care to show me if there’s more on your list of fantasies?”

“Indeed,” he answered simply, his eyes burying into you, scorching you whole. “It’s you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to react, arresting your mouth with soft pecks, sending tingles from head down to your toes as he pinned you down to the mattress. Every sense was on overdrive, your magic crackling within you. As the kisses grew more intense, the more ferociously the magic whirled within like a thunderstorm and your heartbeat began racing more frantically, his body responded too, his cock getting stiff anew.

He hooked his right leg under yours, pausing the kiss to study your face. I want you, I want it all, you wished to say but he rendered you speechless as he moved his hips, aligning himself at your entrance.

Affection.

Admiration.

Desire.

You hoped he could see it as he looked at you. Maintaining eye-contact, he slowly pushed his cock inside you, stretching you, making you whole with small calculated thrusts at first. Wrapping your legs around him, you invited him even deeper, the thrusts becoming more rapid, forcing you to close your eyes but you couldn’t, you couldn’t break away from his gaze.

“Are you still with me?” you muttered. This felt different and was different than the trysts in the forest but you had to be certain. He tittered, knowingly. “I’m here, my love.”

He pulled out completely and entered you again, pressing his mouth on yours, stifling a heavenly whimper and causing you to lose a bit of control. You swung your arm away as lightning crackled at your fingertips. Just in time. A lightning bolt shot out and hit one of the big blood jars on the shelf, blood spilling everywhere.

“You darling, are a menace, aren’t you?”

“No more than you are,” you countered, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Touché.”

Grinning mischievously the way only he could, he awarded you with yet another agonizingly slow thrust, and another, and another, your whimpers and moans mirroring his own. He was still fully present, your bodies in perfect sync. Tiny droplets of sweat were trickling down his forehead, his luscious locks slightly disheveled. He’d always been a walking sin but at the given moment, a whole nunnery would go straight to the Hells just by looking at him.

He picked up the pace, pushing harder and you were coming close, so close, the throbbing sensation robbing you of breath entirely. “You feel…so incredible,” he murmured hoarsely.

“Astarion, please!” you begged, tightening your hold around him and arching your back. So close. He sucked your lower lip, grazing it with his fangs but you couldn’t care less. You could feel him tensing against you and you kissed him, tasting blood on your tongue as you climaxed together in harmony. Another lightning bolt shot out of your hand as you did, smashing more bottles. A hearty chuckle reverberated in his throat when he looked at the carnage of blood and broken glass on the floor.

"Oh my...what do you have to say for yourself now, dear?"

"I love you."

He smiled blissfully and nuzzled your neck. "That works, I suppose."

Later, after you helped him clean the mess you’d made and you wound up tangled in the sheets again crying out his name even louder, he told you those little words. And this time they weren’t a lie.

~~~

“You look positively radiant, my friend,” Gale greeted you the next day as you arrived to Sorcerous Sundries.

“And bringing some good news to boot,” you said, blushing as you recounted last night's events. “No need to send Astarion more letters about me.”

The wizard opened his mouth like a fish and quickly scuttled to the corner of the room to rearrange the bookshelves that didn’t quite require more rearranging.

#astarion #my writing #reunion #if you find sentences wonky or some grammar mistakes - pls excuse me (non-native eng speaker)

121 notes · View notes