#the she in his head is his master vampire

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 78: Oliver's Awakening

Previous > Masterlist

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 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!

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

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

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[spookyserenades]

Sanctity - Chapter Two (TEASER)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Vampire!AU, yandere!AU, horror, themes of the supernatural and mythology, historical topics, vampiric powers, religious themes, violence, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, toxic behavior including stalking, torture, and manipulation, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Word Count; 295

Sanctity Masterlist

Sanctity Playlist

TO JOIN THE TAGLIST PLEASE CLICK HERE!

Ko-fi 💜

Hi loves <3 I hope you enjoy this short n' sweet (not so much sweet LOL!) teaser for the second chapter of Sanctity! I plan on this baby being out very soon, but in the meantime, I hope this teaser gets you all excited for the full chapter. Also! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you xoxoxo

Paralyzed. Y/N had not a semblance of an idea of what she had done to cause offense to Yoongi, who was carding her hair over her shoulders methodically, but all she could do was lay there helplessly. His fingertips were warm on her forearm when he draped tresses over her waist in a sensual position, even going as far as to adjust how her fingers were splayed over her hip. 

“Master… master Y-yoongi…?” Y/N’s breath came out choppy, her diaphragm somewhat crushed thanks to her awkward weight distribution against the ottoman. 

“Noisy,” Yoongi murmured to himself, detached. Rolling his eyes, Hoseok set his cue down, approaching Yoongi and his current model with his hands on his hips. 

“If she’s so noisy, paralyze her face. You’re a complainer who hates solutions,” Hoseok watched while Yoongi gingerly stretched one of the girl’s arms out so it was hanging off the furniture.

Yoongi would go on and on about how he was capturing ‘yearning’, but to a vampire (and former buccaneer) who stole art for value, the girl was being positioned to get fucked against the ottoman. Pushing a hand through his hair, Hoseok snorted to himself. Now that he had a sufficient, consistent nutrient source, he could visit the girls at the cabaret again. It had been far too long since a woman had been under him and his mercy. 

“To paralyze the face would make the subject unworthy of being painted,” Yoongi replied plainly, like it was a practiced response, and with emphasis on his words the artist ever so slightly turned the girl’s head with a loose grip on her jaw. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and pretty crystalline tears gathered in her eyelashes, eyeliner smudging perfectly. It was like Yoongi’s lucky day.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[tryingtimi]

45 for the spotty ask game!

@bloodlessheirbyjacques <3

Hôtel du Soleil Couchant

The song that I could listen to for a thousand years without getting tired of it. Also, the sole inspiration for Selys's whole backstory lol. Anyway, here's a little more Selys x Léon with a kinda rushed ending. Bear with my tired brain please.

Tiny Context: Selys's backtstory will build around this vampire hotel where mortals get trapped. (no specifics yet) That's where he meets Léon (faceclaim in the border), the mortal who'll steal his heart.

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | FLUFF AND ANGST I GUESS | WC: 1,504

The Biessean wind burned through the hotel’s poolside, bright sunshine glowing on the lounging folks and illuminating their form like petroleum a room. Besides three or four warmbloods, there wasn’t much of a crowd on the sunbeds. Instead, the tumult resided in the shadowed passage that occupied a big chunk of the curving, tiled pool. The hotel’s own troupe performers mingled with other guests, some staff members active among them, too. Continuous conversations and the soft rock on the radio crittered in the warm winter air. Selys paid only half a mind to them under the artificial shade far beside the water. He gently grazed his sharp nails along Léon’s umber skin, enjoying the goosebumps that trailed the touch. 

“You're a tease,” Léon scoffed in a purring voice. He turned his head towards him, the short coils of his dark hair tickling Selys’s exposed chest between the half-opened shirt. 

The vampire kept grazing his arm. He revelled in the warmness of Léon’s body pressed to his, the Biessean fever nothing compared to the sensation. Selys found the weather’s temperature insignificant, lacking the senses to shiver in cold or shed a drop of sweat. Besides feeding, only another being could bring him the phenomenon of heat again. 

Selys slowly drew his nails up on his shoulder, through his neck where fingertips glided over Léon’s sweetly throbbing artery, only to roll some of the midnight ringlets over his forefinger. 

Léon hummed with a half-smile. “Don’t go existential on me now, mon cher.”  

“I’m not,” Selys chuckled, burying his finger in his hair. “I have no quarrel with life when you’re in my arms like this.” 

A mischief-fueled curve tugged upward Léon’s lips, Selys’s ghost touch running through the thin darkening of coming stubble over them. He gently bit on the pale finger, releasing it when Selys pulled it away. 

“Perhaps, but you are drifting. Otherwise, you would have remembered that this old man devotion didn’t rub on me yet.”

“I am old, my sweet. How do you wish me to speak to you?”

The placid look on Léon’s face brightened by the gentle light in his onyx eyes. It was a seriousness that framed his curiosity, and his unshakable life-loving that made him immune to the fact of Selys’s true nature. Or the casually frightening span of his existence. 

Léon blinked up at him, thoughtful, the scent of chlorine omitting from his figure. “No different, I suppose. It was just a simple reminder. But,” he said, turning back to the pool then snuggling higher on Selys’s front, freckled, evenly throbbing neck in close proximity. “I’d appreciate it if you’d talk more about what you’re ruminating on all the time.” 

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want me to be existential.”

“Now I do.” Selys could feel Léon’s smile when he himself chuckled again. “If that’s all you’ve got, then go ahead. Talk to me, mon cher.” 

“You’re so fond of mere words.” 

Selys brought his sharp nose to his jawline, the pool’s and Léon’s own scent intoxicating like one too many glasses of fine wine. He enclosed him in his embrace, enveloping the sinewy body with his.

Once, Selys kept mortal lovers for this — the pulsating warmness that enthusiastic veins could conjure only. A meat blanket that could provide what he lacked, and missed occasionally. 

He could keep them replaceable; up until Léon showed. 

Selys licked at the tempting, painfully tantalising neck. The taste of the pool was sour on his tongue, and the urge to sink his fangs into the flesh clicketing in the back of his mind. It was always there, but Selys did not care. He’d have rather starved for a thousand years than to feel the warmth of Léon’s blood in his throat. 

But, he nibbled on other’s neck, licking and sometimes poking his skin with fangs without barely even touching flesh, just to make him giggle. And he let him — without an inch of alarm, Léon slightly rolled his head to the side, giving way to Selys’s whims. It was an innocent love affair to tease what one couldn’t have, a serene play Léon taught him to cherish.

“I can’t read minds, mon cher, so words are all I have.” 

“That, I still doubt.” No one could know so precisely, or trust so fully in Selys without invading his mind. Even those who did had never left their guard down. 

“Hm, well.” Léon hummed along to the music on the radio. “You’re right. I can also dance and do acrobatics. Which are not much help in learning what is playing over in your pretty white head.”

Selys chuckled into the sensitive spot behind Léon’s ear. Half-opened eyes watched his pale arms around the beautiful amber boy underneath. His bleached skin looked like a cage built from bones compared to the mortal lover, yet Léon was far from a prisoner. He’d absorbed the laughters, the tears, the awes, the horrors, the celebrations and the struggles. He rode the freeness of his finite existence, fully embracing the mortality of the ever-passing time. Out here in the semi-calmness, or on the roaring stage — everywhere he went, he’d been the only one that truly coloured the world with life. 

Selys pulled the slowly dozing off Léon closer. 

“You are. That’s what’s playing in my head; your performances, your interactions with others, your routines before bed. I am unable to ruminate on my dreary existence anymore because you’ve tainted it with hope and fondness for all the living. So, excuse me my crudeness, but shame on you, my sweet,” Selys whispered in his ear, and finally earned a throaty laughter. The sound brought some gazes towards them from the crowd, yet Selys kept ignoring their surroundings. 

Until a soft tug on his thoughts made him freeze.

A most subtle sensation, a phantom stir, really — but an unmistakable change, nevertheless. Like a soft, morning haze, it came to blanket his mind in a momentary disorientation. Then, a silk of a voice tickled alive within his skull. 

“I, too, always favoured playing with the meal.” 

Selys’s body ran colder than before, and he dragged the sudden dread into a corner where she wouldn’t find it. His eyes flicked towards the crowd, the glinting eyes of his peers smug among the tumult. Their wordless hunt echoed in their sparsely joined mindfield. 

“But you should be careful, my darling,” her voice prickled within his ears. “They spoil fast.”

The gathering around the pool morphed before Selys’s eyes, the silhouettes — every staff member — that shouldn’t have been outside in the day sharp and wicked. The shade that had been put all over now revealed to be an oily darkness, an unearthly creation that deceived the rest. His peers’ gazes were on the prey, while they were also on him. 

On him, and the man between his arms. 

The unending hunger set alight in Selys’s insides tenfold, urging him to feast and devour. It wasn’t his blight only, but the mob’s, all pushed down his throat to make him submit; to warn him. He forced his jaw to relax before he’d pierce flesh inside his mouth. “Worry not, my lady. I’m only savouring, but my attention is set. I have not forgotten my duty.” 

A pause, while the craving built and built, sharp nails itching to puncture the inviting, deliciously pulsing vein on Léon’s lean arm. Through gritted teeth, Selys inhaled the sweet-candy scent of his hidden blood. 

“I believe you.” 

The sensation released its grip, leaving him without air for a moment. The presence lingered in his mind, but only so much like a small slit in an almost closed door. He could still sense the others’s eyes, and their search, their seduction. They were hungry for the troupe, the guests — Léon, too. 

Selys flicked his gaze at the crowd, releasing a telepathic grip towards them much like his Lady’s. Those who were around him tended to forget the years he had behind him — and the power he claimed by them. 

“He’s mine,” Selys hissed, venom lacing his words. 

His peers stiffened in body and shrieked in mind. His Lady once said he had a talent for finding the mortal in their kind; the last bit of desires, longings, fragile feelings. He knew she was right. And that was how he twisted those around them to their knees. 

Selys knew it was time to release Léon. To drift back to his original objective, yet he did not plan to leave him on his own. To leave him to the mongrels of a hotel that was built to trap his kind. 

Many of Selys’s peers excused themselves, others falling deathly silent on their conversational partners. With cold, hard grief and the anger of a caged animal, he gripped them harder, cracking their minds, and squeezing their hearts. All the predators around them quieted, and through their link, they begged in unison.

In the distant haze of his mind, Selys felt the thrilled approvment of his Lady. 

[swordmaid]

oohhhouehouhhoho now I am thinking about the possibility in a spawn shri’iia route ( bc that route would mean shri’iia is NOT pursuing her own freedom and she IS happy with forever being someone’s tool to use (the person she was before she breaks her oath) and that path meant that she has taken up her oath again but now it’s like pure devotion to astarion or something along that line) she would actually get more closer to the emperor bc that would MEAN their relationship is not antagonistic since shri’iia didn’t like him because he used her and she’s had enough of people using her, and he’s keeping orpheus against his will and that goes against her tenets as an oath breaker. in a route where she’s happy about being used, she will not mind the emperor and she will actually respect him more that he managed to fool her so. that means their relationship is friendlier and more co-operative. and the fact that she’s now a spawn !!!! and I hc that vampire shri’iia is such a glutton bc astarion would not want to restrict her the way cazador has starved him (to prove that he’s better than him) and she doesn’t know how to control that hunger and I also think he would encourage her to indulge in every little whim she feels so shri’iia is out there eating an alarming amount of people and the emperor is like bestie i so can relate I used to eat people too 🤭🥰 and she’s like omg no way and he’s like yeah def I’ll even teach you (bc I’m in ur head and I can see ur pov) the most efficient ways to pick someone off and who you should pick off and she’s like yay ❤️ ok ❤️ and I like the idea that he actually instructs her what to do, and how to use her newfound illithid powers (bc she would’ve ate the special worm atp since they’re besties) for her own benefit. like she has both vampire powers and half illithid powers girly is flying off the walls pouncing on people then drinking them dry. or eating their brain idk. and then when he appears in her dream half naked and she’s like 👀🤭 maybe she WILL fuck the squid man I mean astarion her beloved is always telling her to indulge in her every whim and who is she to deny him !!!

[beansprean]

manipulative grown baby colin rly is the star of the show

My Familiar’s Ghost part 86

Masterpost Masterpost 2

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(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of Guillermo's orange vampire eyes with slitted pupils, looking tired and frustrated. He says, 'This is so unnecessary...' 1b. Background showing the cage in the basement draped with silver chains, Nandor and Guillermo trapped within while Nadja, Colin, and Laszlo stand outside. Guillermo is pressed against the side closest to them, hands gripping the bars, and Nandor is leaning on the back wall with his arms crossed. Several bubbles with close ups of the characters pop up in the foreground as they speak. Colin, grinning maniacally and holding up the sparking cattle prod so the light reflects off his glasses, shouts 'We decide what's necessary, fool!' Guillermo turns from Colin to gesture frantically toward the others, asking, 'Who bought him another cattle prod?' Laszlo glances away, looking as contrite as he is capable of, and replies 'Whomever it was, I'm sure they regretted it immediately.' Nadja looks down sympathetically at her husband and says 'My love, I know you have been absolutely whipped by Colin Robinson, but we will have that intervention at another time.'

2a. Split panel, close up of Nandor on the left and Guillermo on the right in their same positions in the cage. They both startle and blurt out in unison, 'Intervention?!' Offscreen, Laszlo says 'Too right, by darling. These lobcocks have been left on the shelf too long.' 2b. Chest up of Colin, who is twirling the cattle prod authoritatively in the air as he says, 'Unlike Harvey Lowe Lifetime Achievement Award winner Dale Myrberg, we're tired of all this g-damned yo-yo-ing!' An asterisk on Dale Myrberg's name leads to a footnote which reads 'Decorated yo-yo player and US national grand master (yo-yo.fandom.com/wiki/dale_myrberg)' Next to him, Nadja gestures toward Colin with a hand and says 'What he said! ...I think... Yes, we have been exhausted by the slow burning of your groins,' 2c. Close up of Nadja in profile in the foreground as she rounds on the cage and points at Nandor and Guillermo accusingly. She continues, snarling through her fangs, 'And we are not letting you out until you un-stink your sad penises!' In the background, Guillermo, still hanging onto the bars at the front, blushes, snaps his mouth closed, and brings his knees in as if to cover his crotch. Nandor, still positioned at the back wall, blushes and looks away, hands darting down to cover his own. 2d. Waist up of Laszlo as he begins to ascend the stairs out of the dungeon in the foreground, Nadja close behind. In the background, Nandor stands wide-eyed in the cage, watching them go. Guillermo presses himself again to the bars, desperately calling out, 'Wha-? W-wait, guys, come on!' Laszlo raises one finger above his head to point dramatically over his shoulder at the cage below and says, 'When we return, there had better be words in mouths or dicks in arses!' Guillermo shouts, 'Laszlo!!'

3a. Waist up of Colin at the dungeon door, already leaving but leaning back in as Guillermo calls out uncertainly from below, 'Colin?' Colin puts on a shiny-eyed pleading expression, sparkles forming around his head, and says, 'Sorry, Uncle Memo, but as the great lyricist Katheryn Hudson sang, 'we fight, we break up, we kiss, we make up.' It's time to finish the song.' An asterisk after the lyrics leads to a footnote which reads 'from 2008 hit single 'Hot N Cold' by Katy Perry (katyperry.fandom.com/wiki/hot_n_cold).' 3b. Repeat. Colin slams the door shut behind him, leaving with the parting words, 'I don't wanna be a child of divorce!' 3c. Shoulders up on Guillermo back in the cage, Nandor stepping forward behind him to point an accusatory finger up at the now-closed door. He sneers, 'Playing the 'child' card will not work on me, Colin Robinson!!' Guillermo, eyes shining with guilt and mouth going wobbly as he looks toward the closed door, says nothing. Text nearby points at him and reads 'working on him'. /end ID

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑨 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Vampire!Minho, Biting, Slight Spanking, Slight pussy smack, Possessive Minho, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Alcohol and cheating mentions. Sorry for any mistakes or forgotten tags

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this. I’ve never rewrote something so much. I really hope it’s alright I would appreciate any feedback on this one fr🥲

Find The Halloween Master List Here

-🎃

You watched as the trees passed seeing the familiar places you knew as a kid. You can’t believe you’re back here but under the circumstances you needed the familiarity. A 5 year relationship down the drain. You both were to be getting married next month but turns out love really does blind you. You let out a sigh as you pulled into your old home. Your parents left it for you after they moved to their dream home down the road. They were so excited to have you move back and so were your friends however everything was just so surreal.

You’ve been in a deep slump the last few weeks wondering round your house like a zombie. You worked on little things around the house when packing was all done. “Hmm I bet I could make the pathway look really good with some flowers” you said to yourself as you looked out onto the porch. As you wondered the shop, you couldn’t help but feel a bit at ease. It was so quiet and smelled so sweet. The arrangements that had been made splayed so nicely everywhere. You walked down the isles just basking in the prettiness of everything and that’s when he first noticed you.

Minho almost does a double take when he first sees you. You were stunning, but the smell of your soul was almost sour? Why? He looked at you, studding you like prey. You looked happy, why were you giving off such sadness? He watched you for a bit before you headed to the counter with a few plants. You smiled and waved at the man behind the counter before leaving with your stash. Minho walked over “so, do you know her?” He asked looking back outside as you got into your car. He nods “yeah why? You fancy her?” The man behind the counter says with a chuckle. Minho rolls his eyes “would you shut up and tell me who she is?” He asks.

The man laughs a bit more “hmm maybe if you can say please I will” he says with a smirk. “I hate you old man” Minho groans but the man’s not budging “uugh fine, fine please?” Minho says with the fakest smile possible. “Her names y/n, she lived here when she was younger and then moved away when she an adult. I hear she’s back because she caught her fiance cheating.” He gossiped.

“That explains the sourness to her scent” Minho said softly. “Yeah she’s been through a lot or so I hear. So if you’re gonna try and talk to her, you better not be an asshole” he said with a chuckle. He rolls his eyes again “I’m always pleasant” he says rolling his eyes once more. “Yeah yeah whatever, you still coming to the bar tonight or what?” The man asks. “Yeah, I’ll be there” he said taking a walk outside to gather some of his thoughts.

After doing some yard work and cooking dinner you laid in bed. You curled up as you let your body relax in the comfort. As you slept your window creeped open a figure leaning in looking around. He stumbled in trying not to disturb you “why must you riddle my mind?” He says softly. He looked over your sleeping figure wanting to touch your body. He breathed out trying to collect himself, his mind racing as he stared down at you. He had drank enough to kill a man but nothing could erase the way you floated through your mind.

He never entertained romantic feelings, rather being alone or having a casual hook up. He couldn’t remember the last time in the many years he’s been alive that he felt any sort of want for another person. It was like that for friends as well though, never making friends with others. Not really caring to bother to find bonds. He of course had his small group he’s been with for a millennia but anyone else was always brushed off. Why were you different? Why did you intrigue him so much? He couldn’t figure it out but it was driving him mad.

He watched as your body moved up in down with every breath. He wanted to kiss you wanted to bite you to taste everything of you. He could hear your blood moving through your veins the smell of it smelled sweet almost. He groaned at the thought of just pricking you a bit just to have a tiny taste. He knew though if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. He watched you sleep for a while before he heard the birds chirp. “Fuck- it’s already morning.” He said before walking to the window. He knew he had to have you soon because you were driving him crazy.

——

As the days passed so did the time Minho spent watching you. He watched you through out your day and watched you at night. He felt like a stalker but he just wanted to know everything about you he was so enamored by you.

On todays faithful night you were persuaded to go out with your friends them wanting to get you out of your coop. As you drank you started to feel a bit loser. Your friends brought you up to the floor to dance grinding on each other as you drank. Minho found himself watching you from the side, he didn’t expect to see you here. He thought you’d be at home sleeping like always. His eyes were glued to you as he watched your body. “You should make your move tonight” his friend said patting him on the back with a smile. Minho rolled his eyes but he thought about it as he watched you.

Minho turned to go to the bathroom and as he came out he stopped dead in his track. He watched as a man slinked his way in front of you “hey gorgeous, wanna dance?” The man said before you could answer he was pulling you towards him hands gripping at your hips. You didn’t know how to react the alcohol swirling in your mind. You leaned into the man before you knew it he was kissing you. His tongue slipping into yours as his hands roamed your body. Minho could only stand there and watch his ‘blood’ bowling at the sight.

Your friends pulled you from the guy not before he gave you his number. Your friends teased you the whole time as they drove you home. You made your way to your bed slumping into it with a giggle. You quickly fell asleep due to the alcohol. In the middle of the night like clock work Minho found himself in your room this time though on a mission. He slinked his way onto your bed before he pealed the covers off of you. He saw you only in your panties making him groan. He couldn’t stop himself this time he leaned in taking in all your scent before licking at your clothed core.

Your body moved a little but you didn’t wake. He moved your panties to the side before finally making contact with your heat. Long licks up your folds before quickly sucking at your clit. You moaned out eyes fluttering awake. You looked down seeing a man between your legs before you could push him away he pushed his fingers into you. He curled them inside you moving them at a fast pace as his tongue lapped at your clit. He started to suck harshly at your clit biting it softly as he saw you waking.

He quickened his pace adding another finger to your sopping cunt. He felt you clenching around him knowing you were close. He took his free hand pushing down on your lower stomach to make you feel him even more. He bit at your clit as he moved his hands watching your eyes roll back. You were moaning grabbing at his hair as your legs started to tighten around his head. The squeeze tightened as your orgasm came over you. Your legs shaking around his head as he kept going as he worked you through your high.

“Y/n you think that man at the bar could please you like I can?” He said his eyes red at the thought. He pushed his pants down quickly rubbing himself up and down your dripping folds before lending a string of spit coming down to his cock head. “Gonna show you the only cock you’ll ever need.” He spat before pushing into you. Your mind was gone, completely blank from all the pleasure. He started to fuck you at a fast pace, slapping your bass as he did so. He had your thighs pressed to your chest as he pounded into you.

His hand come up to grip at your face making you look at him. “I want you to look at me. Look at me as I fuck this perfect pussy” he growls out. Your eyes met his as you felt your heart pound. God was he hot, his facial features were beautiful almost non human like. His hand left your face coming down only with your clit. “Please!” You whined out not knowing what you were begging for only to get a smack to your clit. “You’ll get what I give you, understand?” He growled again. He moved his head down nipping at your neck.

“You think that guy could make you cum like this? Make you feel so good? Only I can. Only me.” He said his movements becoming harsh his cock kissing your cervix bullying your entrance as he bottoms out. “Fuck y/n I’ve waited so long for this. Why’d you have to make it- make it like this” he groaned out. “I wanted our first time to be loving” he said before leaning back to look at you. Your eyes pricked with tears hands digging into his back. “M’sorry.” You said softly making him slow his pace. The fact you were apologizing, made his body stutter. You technically didn’t know him, didn’t know anything he was really talking about. However you still apologized. “Y/n- y/n I love you” he blurted out seeing your eyes softening at him.

“I- but why- you don’t know me?” You said softly looking up at him. His movements have all but stopped as he stared down at you. “I do- I know a lot about you. I wanna show you what these dumb guys can’t. I wanna show you real love. How you should be treated.” He said before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss was loving sensual as he started to move his hips again this time a bit slower but super deep. He wrapped your legs around him pulling your body close to his. When he pulled away seeing you smile shyly up at him “y/n let me show you the love you deserve yeah?” He said smiling at you.

You nodded “I don’t got much to lose” you said softly making him chuckle a bit. He started to fuck into you more, more lovingly. He was focused on making you cum again, he wanted you to feel how he felt. Like pure bliss. He kissed you again pushing his tongue into your mouth. “H-hey” you said softly pulling away from the kiss. “Shouldn’t I know- know your name?” You said with a little smile. “I’m yours, but you can call me Minho” he joked making you both giggle. This was the kinda love making people dreamed of, being able to joke around and feel so comfortable with one another.

He started to play with your clit again his movements were becoming a bit sloppy but he needed to make you cum first. He leaned down towards your neck kissing it softly. “You’re gonna feel a pinch ok?” He warned you before sinking his teeth into you. The small bit of pain being replaced by pleasure. As all the thoughts and memories he had of you flooding into you. Seeing and feeling how he felt about you made your body quiver. In the matter of seconds everything flowed into you, he showed you everything about him. Showing you what he was but more importantly what he wanted to be with you. It was just pure love, nothing more pure.

You felt your orgasms wash over you before even realizing it. Your body clenching around him sucking him in. He pushed into you one last time before cumming deep inside of you. He pulled his fangs from you licking the wound making it heal over. Both of your body’s felt weak as you both clung to one another. “Y/n I’m sorry for flooding your mind with everything.” He said softly against your ear. You shook your head “no- don’t be I’m happy you did. It showed me how you really felt.” You said breathily.

“You really wanna be mine?” He asked again. You nodded quickly making him smile.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked nervously.

“No. I’m fine. Just” you breathed “tired”

“Wanna go take a bath and we can sleep?” He offered. He was confused when you shook your head.

“Can.. can we go again? I wanna see how you were before” you said with a devilish smile.

He met your smile with one of his own “I should know you’d be a little freak.” He chuckled. “My little freak though, and what my baby wants she gets” he said before kissing you one last time.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Halloween Taglist: @ldysmfrst @kissesmellow21 @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan

[bardic-inspo]

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended. 

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude. 

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs. 

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to? 

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen? 

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too. 

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient. 

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading. 

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night. 

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own. 

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles. 

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her. 

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue. 

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips. 

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again. 

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her. 

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes. 

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry. 

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard. 

Just a dream, then. For now, at least. 

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.” 

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time. 

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces. 

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[dark-konohagakure2]

Alucard and Integra noncon reader together as a bonding activity 🫣 (ft. spit kink n humiliation pls)

tw: noncon, age difference, threesome, spit, power imbalance, size difference, humiliation, human ashtray, strap-ons, gunplay, fuck or die, sir kink

All characters depicted are 18+

Integra is very particular about who she allows into the Hellsing Organization, not wanting to have any weak links in her perfect chain of command, so when a new, very young (and very underpaid) employee of hers is shown to be very incompetent at her job, Integra decides that she's found a perfect new chew toy for Alucard.

Of course Alucard us more than eager to obey his Master's orders, especially if it means he gets to let loose and really show his sadistic side. The huge vampire is easily able to snatch up the little intern and drag her to Integra's quarters, her struggles barely even registering to the immortal being as he reaches his destination and Integra patiently awaits his arrival.

The blonde woman, smoking a cigar as usual, will beckon the nervous girl over, saying that she has an important task for her. But as soon as the intern gets close enough, Integra will put her cigarette out on the girl's tongue, making the girl squeal in pain while Integra orders Alucard to undress the girl, to which the vampire ravenously complies, tearing her uniform right off her trembling body as Integra herself gets ready as well.

Once Integra puts on her strap, she'll force it in front of the frightened girl's face and order her to suck it, to get it nice and wet since its going to be inside her sooner rather than later, and she can't exactly refuse with Alucard holding her head in place in front of Integra's cock.

"Now then, I want you to use that useless mouth of yours to get this little toy here nice and wet for me. Understood? That's 'Yes Sir' to you, harlot. Remember that..."

If Integra is rough, then Alucard is savage. He is huge, even by supernatural standards, and his cock is huge as well, and he's not going to be gentle when he shoves his thick meat into her untouched pussy, and Alucard can just barely control the urge to sink his fangs into her neck and suck her dry of all her sweet blood.

As Integra fucks the girl's mouth with her strap, Alucard decides to 'help' the struggling and gagging girl out, by spitting directly into her mouth. When she rightfully shows her disgust at his actions, Alucard will just tell her to shut up, snidely saying that he was just giving her some extra lubricant.

The girl doesn't get any reprieve from either end, not when Integra is blowing smoke in her face while fucking it with her strap and Alucard is violating her womb with his huge vampiric cock and his hands digging into her skin, but there's nothing she can do under the combined forces of her mistresses' loyal dog and the head of the Hellsing Organization.

Integra doesn't bother to reign Alucard in, even when the sadistic vampire is holding his gun to the girl's head as pounds into her relentlessly, his much bigger thighs against hers as he ravages her, and he's not pulling any punches either, because his gun is fully loaded and he is not bluffing about using it.

"Stop your bitching and just take my cock, or I'll blow your brains out... do you even have any brains? Why don't we find out? On that sounds so fun!"

This isn't the first time that Integra and Alucard have taken advantage of a helpless subordinate together as a form of master-servant bonding, and it most certainly won't be the last time, but now the duo knows that they've just found their new favorite toy.

[cozykali]

Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Hello." A dull thwack sound reverberated across the rooftop, leaving the boy who snuck up on Red Robin clutching his head. The boy, a meta if the large animal ears and tail were anything to go by, shook off the pain and pouted up at him, "What was that for?!"

The vigilante was unrepentant, holding his bo staff in a ready position, "You snuck up behind a vigilante at night. In Gotham."

"Okay," the meta conceded, still pouting. "You have a point there. Robin threw ninja stars at me when I tried to approach Batman."

That got Tims attention, "You tried to approach Batman? Was there something you needed?"

The kid suddenly got serious, "My mom went missing. I haven't been able to contact her for almost two weeks now."

Red pulled his arm closer to his face before he began typing on his wrist computer, "Can you tell me her name and date of birth?"

"Um." The other teen fidgetted with his tail a bit, "Okay, so...she's kinda Cheetah."

"...come again?"

"She's Cheetah. The...the supervillian."

Red Robin stared at him, and honestly who could blame him? The bats hadn't even known Cheetah had a son. "So why are you in Gotham? Why not ask Wonder Woman for help? Cheetahs one of her rogues not ours."

The teen shook his head, "She went to meet someone in Gotham before she disappeared. She seemed really agitated before she left, almost scared. I've never seen her like that before." He paused, giving the vigilante time to type before continuing, "I didn't go Wonder Woman since I figured I would wind up needing to talk to a bat anyway since its your turf and all." He said, waving a hand as if gesturing to the city around them.

"I wasn't aware Cheetah had a kid."

The meta grimaced, "she didn't until a year ago."

Red gave him a look, as if urging him to go on.

The meta chuffed, sounding a lot like whatever big cat he was supposed to be, "I'll only tell you my tragic backstory if you promise to help me find my mom."

"I'll find your mom." The bird said without an ounce of hesitation. Tim was a little offended. Did this guy think he was going to leave his mom in danger just because she was a criminal? Appearently so, seeing as the teen looked so relieved at his words.

"Okay, so my bio parents were evil mad scientists. Always a bad start, anyway they were obsessed with the occult and one day they suddenly took me and my sister to Brazil to hunt for some artifact of another. That alone was strange but weirder still was the fact my creepy godfather was paying for it all. He usually only does something like that when he's plotting "

"Plotting?" The detective interjected, "you make it sound like he does that often."

"Yeah. Hes a supervillian." The meta said casually, as if he didn't just leave Tim reeling, but the kid wasn't done yet, "He's had a massive crush on my bio mom since collage and never let it go no matter how many times she rejected him. She even married my dad, his best friend, and this dude just kept simping for 20 years." The teen rolled his eyes, "Hes convinced himself that if he murders my bio dad then my bio mom will fall in love with him and me and jazz will be "his"." He said that last part with fingerqoutes and a disgusted expression.

Tim filed that away for later, "Can I have his name, if nothing else?"

The teen seemed reluctant for a moment, "You're the worlds greatest detectives. You'll find out even if i try to hide it. Besides, I'd probably be better off if you and the Justice League know everything anyway."

Tim was...surprised by that. Most people usually weren't this open with them.

"His name is Vlad Masters, he also goes by Plasmius when he's dressed like a wannabe vampire. He's a ghost who's repossessed his corpse. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton, who are obsessed with ghosts and have convinced themselves that all ghosts are evil and must be destroyed, regardless of how much evidence points to them being wrong."

"And your name?"

The meta grinned at him, showing off four very sharp fangs, reminiscent of the large cat he takes after, "You can call me Jaguar. We were exploring a bit when I broke off from my family and got jumped by one of them. Suddenly I was struck by a claw and turned into furry bait. Fluffy stopped trying to make me his lunch and just stared at me before walking away, which was wierd. Then my parents found me, accused me of being a ghost, because thats naturally what someone would assume when thier son sprouts cat ears," he said while rolling his eyes.

"Naturally." Red joked, which had the benefit of making Jaguar smile.

"So my parents chased me through the jungle, shooting all the while, then suddenly a portal opened up in front of me. I'm not stupid, I know there was no way this wasn't a trap. I mean, a portal opening up right after that bizarre series of events and its the same shade of glowing green as the wierd death go my parents are obsessed with? There's no way they weren't related somhow, but I was desperate and jumped through anyway."

"I landed in another jungle, or the same one in a different location, I'm not sure. I tried hunting and foraging but wasn't very successful at either." Danny still remembered the throbbed in his head when he had headbutt that tree after missing his pounce on that pig he had been stalking. "Thats when Cheetah found me. She took me in and taught me to hunt and fight."

-----

Possible plot twists:

1. Danny isnt Phantom in this au

2. Danny is Phantom in this au but is trying to leave that life behind

3. My favorite. Danny has the ability to manipulate and control animals into doing his bidding with the effect of jaguars and other big cats being the most prevalent and he just doesn't realize it.

One of Cheetahs friends/allies realizes cheetah has changed and suspected something and convinced her to leave for a while to see if her care for this kid faded after a while away from his presence. It works and Danny loses another parental figure/possibly attacked by them too.

[ateezscupid]

Can I request an Ateez Vampire Yeosang x reader where it's her first time everything? First time orgasm, first time squirt so he makes her squirt a couple times, first time having sex and she bleeds and freaks so he helps her and calms her through it? Very smutty and extremely fluffy?

Probably the smuttiest thing I've written with Yeosang ever????

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬. ♡

warnings ─ medieval au, vamp!yeosang, human!fem reader, implication of turning reader into a vampire (doesn't happen, but yeosang does bite reader on the neck twice), yeosang and reader are married, fluff

tags ─ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride

m.list ┃ nsfw warnings under the cut.

warnings ─ soft!dom yeosang, sub!reader, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise and degradation, pet names, unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, mention of pee (no, not in the nasty way LOL)

Yeosang sat on the sprawling porch of your ancient mansion, the sun's warm embrace barely peeking through the dense canopy of the surrounding forest. He nursed a cup of tea, the delicate porcelain warming his fingertips as he held it with a gentle grip. The newspaper lay folded beside him, forgotten as his gaze drifted to the garden, his girlfriend worked with a quiet determination. You had your back to him, your slender form moving rhythmically as you tended to the blooming flowers. Your hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and every so often, a tendril would escape, dancing in the gentle breeze. The sight of you filled him with a sense of peace and a yearning that was both new and familiar.

Your movements were graceful, a silent pattern of care and dedication that spoke of your love for the earth and the life it nurtured. Yeosang felt his chest tighten, his fangs throb gently in response to the allure of your humanity. He set the tea and newspaper aside, the rustle of the pages a small rebellion against the serene quiet of the afternoon. Slowly, he rose from his chair, his long shadow stretching out before him as he descended the porch steps.

The soft scent of blooming roses filled the air as he approached you, your crimson petals a stark contrast to your skin. He could hear the distant sound of bees industriously collecting nectar, a gentle hum that seemed to echo the thrum of his own pulse. When he reached you, he didn't say a word. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close so that you could feel the beat of his heart against your back.

You stiffened for a moment, your gardening sheers hovering in midair, before relaxing into his embrace. Your cheeks flushed a delicate pink, a color that stood out starkly against the emerald of your eyes. You leaned back into him, your head tilting slightly to the side as you looked up at him with a shy smile. "What is it?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that made him want to pull you even closer.

Yeosang leaned down, his breath a whisper against your ear. "Just watching you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're so beautiful." He felt the rapid flutter of your heartbeat, a tantalizing reminder of the life that flowed through your veins. He resisted the urge to bite, instead pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. You giggled, the sound music to his centuries-old ears.

You stood there for a moment, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company. Then, Yeosang spoke again, his words a soft coax. "Take a break," he suggested. "Come inside with me." You hesitated, your hands still clutching the sheers, but the desire in his voice was palpable. After a moment, you nodded, allowing him to lead you away from the garden and into the dimly lit mansion. The door closed with a soft click behind them, leaving the outside world and its mundane tasks at bay.

In the cool interior of the house, Yeosang led you up the grand staircase, his steps silent on the plush carpet that lined the steps. You made your way to the master bedroom, a sanctuary of velvet and lace that smelled faintly of your mingled scents. He could feel the anticipation building within you, a sweet, intoxicating aroma that made his fangs throb in anticipation.

Once inside, you pulled away from his embrace and danced over to the walk-in closet, your eyes scanning the racks of clothes. Yeosang leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a smoldering gaze. "What are you looking for?" he asked, his tone playful.

"Something to wear tonight," you replied, your cheeks still flushed from your earlier encounter. You pulled out a few garments, holding them up to the light that streamed through the stained-glass window. Each piece was a whisper of fabric that promised to leave little to the imagination, and Yeosang felt his heart race at the thought of you wearing them.

He pushed himself off the frame, stalking closer to you with a predatory grace that made your pulse quicken. "Why bother with clothes?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "You're already the most beautiful thing in this room." He took a garment from your hand, a delicate piece of black lace, and let it slide through his fingers. You giggled, swatting his hand away and hiding your face in his chest.

With a playful growl, Yeosang wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around. You squealed in surprise and delight, your laughter echoing through the room. He set you down, your feet barely touching the plush rug before he captured your mouth in a hungry kiss. His fangs grazed your lower lip, and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into him. He could feel your heart racing, the sweet scent of your arousal mixing with the earthy smell of the garden soil that clung to your skin.

Your kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Yeosang backed you towards the bed. You stumbled slightly, your hands clutching at his shirt. He broke away, his eyes searching yours for permission, for the confirmation that you were ready for what was to come. When you nodded, your eyes wide and trusting, he felt a surge of love and desire that was almost overwhelming.

Gently, he laid you down, his body hovering over yours as he began to remove your gardening clothes. Each layer revealed more of your smooth skin, and he couldn't resist the urge to kiss and nibble the soft flesh he uncovered. Your breath hitched as his fangs grazed your collarbone, and you arched your back, inviting him to continue. The tension in the air grew thick, a heady mix of excitement and nerves.

"Your skin is like porcelain," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with desire as he unbuttoned your blouse. "Soft, delicate, and begging to be touched." He peeled back the fabric, his eyes drinking in the sight of your lacy bra, the cups a delicate cradle for the treasures beneath. "These…" He trailed off, his fingertips tracing the edge of the lace. "They hide the most beautiful parts of you." With a flick of his wrist, the bra was gone, your breasts spilling free. He took one in his hand, his thumb brushing over your erect nipple. You gasped, your back arching off the bed.

"And these…" He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your stomach. "These curves drive me wild." He tugged at the waistband of your trousers, his eyes never leaving yours. "Every inch of you is perfection, and I want to worship it all." Your hands trembled as you helped him, sliding the fabric over your hips and revealing the matching lace of your panties.

When you were naked before him, Yeosang sat back on his haunches, his eyes roving over your body with a reverence reserved for the most sacred of artifacts. He took your hand in his, his gaze intense. "Are you sure, my love?" His thumb traced the veins that pulsed with your life beneath your skin. "Once you give yourself to me, there's no turning back. You'll be mine, forever."

Your eyes searched his, finding the love and protection you craved. You nodded, your voice a soft whisper. "I'm ready. I trust you." The weight of your words hung in the air, a silent promise that bound you together in ways you hadn't yet fully comprehended. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this connection with him more than you'd ever needed anything.

Yeosang took a deep breath, his chest expanding with the gravity of what was about to happen. He leaned in, his fangs grazing the soft skin of your neck. "If you change your mind, you know you can tell me." He kissed your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste your sweetness. "But know that once we start, I'll crave more than just your blood." His voice grew softer, a seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine. "I'll want your body, your soul… everything that makes you, you."

Your pulse raced at his words, your heart fluttering like a caged bird. You nodded again, more firmly this time. "I'm ready," you repeated, your voice stronger, more assured. "I want this. I want you."

He smiled, a soft, tender curve of his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Because I've wanted this for so long." With that, he leaned down, his fangs sinking gently into the flesh of your neck. You gasped, your body stiffening before melting into the bed beneath him. The coppery taste of your blood filled his mouth, a symphony of sensation that made his head spin. He drank, savoring each drop, as he continued to tease and explore your body with his hands.

Your legs parted for him, an unspoken invitation that he couldn't resist. He kissed his way down your torso, his hands skimming over your hips, your thighs, before finally reaching your core. His eyes widened at the sight of you. You were a vision of innocence and desire, your pink flesh glistening with need. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, to learn the secrets of your body. Your hips jerked, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"You taste like heaven," he whispered, his voice muffled against your sensitive skin as he traced the seam of your sex with his tongue. You gripped the bed sheets, your knuckles turning white as you fought to hold onto reality. "Every part of you, so sweet, so perfect." His words were a gentle caress against your soul as he explored you with an almost reverent hunger.

Your body responded to his touch in a symphony of sensation. Each flick of his tongue, each suck of his lips, sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, threatening to drown you in a sea of ecstasy. Incoherent sounds tumbled from your mouth, a mix of whimpers and moans that grew louder as he worked his magic.

"Do you like this?" he asked, his eyes looking up at you, filled with a fiery need. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as he swirled his tongue around the swollen bud of your clit. "I love making you feel this way," he said, his voice a low growl. "You're so responsive, so beautiful."

Your hips began to rock against his mouth, a silent plea for more. He obliged, his tongue pressing harder, his strokes becoming more insistent. You could feel the tension building within you, a coil winding tighter and tighter with each pass of his mouth. Your breath hitched, your chest heaving as you approached the edge of something you'd never felt before.

And then you were there, teetering on the brink, the world around you fading into a blur of sensation. Yeosang's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched your body convulse, your first orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tempest. You cried out his name, the sound echoing through the bedroom and sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He lapped at you, savoring your sweet release, his own need growing with each tremor that wracked your frame.

As your climax subsided, Yeosang moved up your body, kissing and nibbling along the way. He hovered over you, his eyes a dark, endless pool of desire. "Again," he whispered, his fangs retracted but the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable. "I want to feel you come apart for me again."

Your eyes were glazed with passion, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. "I-I don't know if I can," you murmured, your voice tremulous with the aftershocks of pleasure. But Yeosang knew you better than you knew yourself, and he recognized the challenge in your words. He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth, sharing your taste with you. You moaned into the kiss, your body already responding to his command.

He slid two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with the same rhythm that had driven your over the edge moments before.

"Good girl," he praised, his tone low and seductive. "You're so wet for me."

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you couldn't deny the truth of them. Your body was responding to him in a way that was utterly foreign, and yet it felt so incredibly right. You bit your lower lip, trying to keep your moans of pleasure from escaping as he grew bolder, his strokes becoming more insistent.

You bucked against his hand, your nails digging into his shoulders as you sought purchase. He felt you tighten around him, your breath coming in short gasps. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a gentle rumble. Your eyes snapped open, locking with his, and he watched the realization dawn in them as you felt the beginnings of another climax building.

"Yeah, baby, that's it," he murmured, his praise sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "You're so beautiful when you come."

The way he talked to you, the way he touched you, it was all so overwhelming. You felt a mix of pleasure and a hint of something else, something darker that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It was as if he was claiming you, marking you as his own with every stroke and every syllable of praise that slipped from his lips. And you liked it, more than you cared to admit.

Your breathing grew ragged, and you could feel the tension building inside you like a storm about to break. Your eyes went wide as you felt a sudden, unfamiliar sensation building in your lower abdomen. Your body began to quake as a second, more powerful orgasm ripped through you like a bolt of lightning. He knew it too, his eyes burning into yours as he whispered, "You're going to come for me, aren't you?"

It was both a question and a command, and you found yourself nodding frantically, your hips rising off the bed to meet his hand. His fingers moved faster, pressing harder, and you could feel the dam about to burst.

"You're going to squirt for me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "I want to feel it, baby."

"Yeosang," you stutter trying to form a sentence. "I-I feel like--" you felt embarrassed to say it.

"You feel like you're going to come," he finishes for you, his voice a smug whisper. "It's alright. Just let go."

"I-I feel like peeing-," you mumble. "S-Stop, I don't-"

"Shh," he hushes, his thumb circling your clit with a maddening precision. "It's not pee, it's your body's natural response to pleasure." His voice is soothing, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you closely. "Trust me, it's going to feel amazing."

"Squirt for me."

The word "squirt" was like a trigger, and you felt your body tighten around his fingers as the most intense pleasure you'd ever experienced washed over you. It was as if you'd been holding your breath for an eternity and were finally allowed to exhale. You cried out, your eyes squeezed shut as you rode the wave, feeling your muscles spasm and release in a delicious, liquid rush. A rush of liquid spilled from you, soaking the sheets beneath you. You could feel the warmth spreading between your thighs, a sensation that was both shocking and exhilarating. Yeosang's eyes widened in surprise and delight as he watched your body respond.

The release is unlike anything you've ever felt before, a mix of pleasure and relief that leaves you panting and trembling. Yeosang's eyes are wide with excitement, his fangs peeking out slightly as he watches you come apart in his arms. He pulls his hand away, his fingers glistening with your arousal, and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, the realization of what just happened finally sinking in. "Oh my god," you whisper, your voice shaky. "What was that?"

"That," he says with a smug smile, "was your body giving in to me." He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're mine now, in every way that counts."

"Now stay still," he murmured, his voice filled with desire. "You're so perfect. Doing so good for me. Let me help you finish." He didn't stop his ministrations, instead, his thumb pressed harder, his fingers moving faster as he coaxed another wave of pleasure from your trembling form. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a delicious pressure that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

The feeling grew more intense, the warm liquid continuing to spill out of you until you were sure you would drown in it. Yeosang's eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched you, his own arousal evident in the hard line of his cock pressed against your thigh. He leaned down, his tongue darting out to taste the newfound wetness, a growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest.

The intimacy of the moment was almost too much to bear. Your body was laid bare before him, a canvas of passion and need. But instead of feeling embarrassed or shy, you felt powerful, like you had unlocked some ancient, primal part of yourself that had been waiting for this very moment.

He kissed you deeply, the taste of your own release on his lips a heady aphrodisiac that only served to fan the flames of your desire. Your hips rocked against his hand, your body begging for more, even as you felt the last tremors of your second orgasm fade.

When you opened your eyes again, you found him watching you, his gaze filled with love and an almost tangible hunger. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the urgency in his touch.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice shaky with pleasure. "More than okay. That was… incredible."

He smiled, his fangs peeking out slightly as he kissed you again. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered, his eyes dark with need. "Now, let me show you what else I can do."

He slid his hand away, and you felt a moment of loss before he positioned himself between your legs. His cock nudged at your entrance, and you gasped at the sheer size of him. But you were so wet, so ready, that you knew you could take him.

With a gentle push, he entered you, the sensation of him filling you, unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You tensed for a moment, pain ripping through your body. He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress, his concern clear even in the throes of his own passion. "You're okay?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

"I…" you went silent, your hands reaching for his forearm. He watched you intently, the love in his gaze almost too much to handle as you felt a sudden rush of wetness between your legs, not just from your arousal, but the blood that accompanied your first time. The sight of it made you panic, and you looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. "What's happening?" you whispered, your voice shaking.

Yeosang leaned down, his forehead against yours, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's okay," he soothed, his voice calm and steady. "It's just a little blood. It's normal." He kissed you gently, tasting the hint of fear in your mouth. "I'm with you," he assured you, his hands moving to gently cup your cheeks. "I'll never hurt you."

Taking a shaky breath, you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed in a little further, your body stretching around him, and you bit your bottom lip to stifle a gasp. It hurt, but you didn't want him to stop. You could feel him, so deep inside you, and you knew that you were his, forever. The pain was a strange sort of pleasure, a reminder of the bond you were forming.

As he began to move, your eyes drifted shut, and you focused on the feeling of him inside you. The pain began to recede, replaced by a deep, insatiable need that grew with every stroke. Your body felt alive in a way it never had before, your muscles tightening around him like a vice.

"You feel so good, my love," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with passion as he began to move within you, his strokes slow and gentle at first. He watched your face, your expressions a tapestry of pain and pleasure that painted a picture of the virginity you were giving to him. He knew he had to be careful, had to make sure you enjoyed this moment, that you felt comfortable and loved.

Your nails dug into his arms, but you didn't push him away. Instead, you clung to him, your body adjusting to the new sensation as he continued to move, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder than the last. The blood had stopped, but the memory of it made him ache for more, made him want to claim you fully. But he held back, knowing that this was your moment, your first time, and he needed to make it perfect for you.

Your breathing grew ragged as you began to move with him, your hips rising to meet his. He kissed you, his fangs grazing your lower lip as he tasted the lingering fear that mingled with the sweetness of your blood. "You're mine," he murmured against your mouth, his voice a dark promise that sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you nodded, your voice a soft whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours."

The words seemed to unleash something within him, a primal need held in check by his love and respect for you. He began to move faster, his hips slapping against yours as he claimed you in the most intimate way possible. You moaned, your nails now raking down his back as you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Yeosang could feel his own release building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing unbearable. He reached down, his thumb finding your clit, and began to rub it in tight circles.

Your eyes shot open, and you stared at him, your pupils dilated with lust. "Yeosang," you gasped, his name a plea on your lips.

He leaned in, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "You're so tight, so wet," he whispered, his words hot against your skin. "You're going to feel so good when I come inside you."

Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold onto the last shreds of your sanity. But it was no use. His words, his touch, it was all too much, and you felt yourself hurtling towards another climax. This one was different, though. It was as if your entire being was coiled tightly, ready to snap.

"Oh god," you whimpered, your hips bucking up to meet him. "I'm going to come again."

He grinned, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Do it," he urged, his voice a dark caress. "Come for me, baby. Show me how much you like it."

With a strangled cry, you did just that. Your body spasmed around him, your muscles clenching as you came harder than you ever had before.

Yeosang watched you with a mix of awe and pride, his own climax a distant thunderstorm on the horizon of his pleasure. He knew he could keep you on this precipice for hours if he wanted to, but he also knew that this was your first time, and he didn't want to push your too far too soon. So, with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he pulled out, your juices coating his cock in a warm, sticky mess.

He sat up, his eyes never leaving yours, and reached for a pillow behind you. Carefully, he placed it under your hips, elevating you to the perfect angle. He kept your thighs spread, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he positioned himself above your once more. The pillow made your feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and you bit your lip as you watched him enter your again.

This time, his movements were more deliberate, his strokes slower and deeper. You could feel every inch of him, the veins of his cock pulsing with each thrust. The pain had mostly subsided, leaving behind a deep, all-consuming need that you hadn't known existed. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer, your heels digging into his back.

Your eyes remained locked as he began to move again, his hips rolling into yours in a rhythm that was as old as time.

His hand slid from your thigh to your lower stomach, his fingers pressing down firmly, guiding your movements, setting the pace. You gasped as the pressure built, your nails digging into his back as you felt the beginnings of a third orgasm coiling within you. Yeosang watched you with an almost painful hunger, his eyes dark with desire.

Your words grew more desperate, more explicit with each passing second. "H-Harder," you begged, your voice a needy whine. "D-Don't stop, please, don't ever stop..." He could feel his own climax approaching, a warm tingle at the base of his spine, but he held back, determined to give you everything you needed.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss as his hand moved lower, his fingers sliding through your wetness to find your clit. He circled it with the same rhythm as his hips, feeling your body tighten around him. The dirtiness of your pleas only fueled his desire, his own moans growing louder as he felt your body responding to his touch.

Your movements grew erratic, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as the room filled with the sounds of your passion. Yeosang's whispers grew more heated, his words a delicious mix of sweet praise and dark need. "You're so tight," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "So wet and perfect for me." His fangs grazed the soft skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Your moans grew louder, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he continued to push you closer to the edge. "You're going to come again, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "You're going to scream my name as I fuck you so hard you forget your own." His words were a heady mix of love and possession, and you couldn't help but respond to them, your body arching off the bed as you neared climax once more.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a seductive purr. "T-Take it, take everything I give you." He thrust harder, his fingers working in tandem with his cock, pushing you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out a scream of pleasure, your nails raking down his back.

Your body convulsed around him, your pussy clenching in a vice-like grip as you came for a third time, your orgasm shaking you to your very core. Yeosang watched you with a mix of love and hunger, his own release just out of reach. He knew he was close, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but he wanted to make sure you were satisfied beyond all measure before he gave in to his own needs.

With a gentle but firm hand, he rolled you onto your stomach, your ass in the air, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. You whimpered, your body still sensitive from your previous climaxes, but the position was one of submission and trust, and you knew he would never hurt you. He kissed the back of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You could feel his cock, still hard and slick with your arousal, pressing against your thigh.

He reached around you, his hand finding your clit again, his fingers resuming your relentless dance. You moaned, your hips moving involuntarily as you felt the beginnings of another climax coil within you. It was too much, you thought, your body couldn't possibly take any more. But you were wrong. Each touch, each stroke, brought you closer to the precipice once more.

"Y-Yeosang," you cry out, your face now falling into the pillows. "T-Too much--"

"Never too much," he whispers, his voice thick with need. He slides into you from behind, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You feel filled and complete like you're made for this. His hand moves to your hip, his grip firm, guiding your movements as he begins to thrust. You push back into him, the angle hitting your g-spot with precision, making you moan into the fabric.

Your rhythm builds, your bodies moving together like you're one entity. You're lost in the sensations, your mind a whirlwind of pleasure. You've never felt so alive, so utterly consumed by someone else. His teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. You know what's coming, but the anticipation only makes you wetter.

"I need you," he says, his voice strained. "I need all of you."

The words send a shiver down your spine. You nod, your voice lost in the symphony of pleasure. He sinks his fangs into your neck, the pain sharp and brief. The taste of your blood fills his mouth, and it's like nothing he's ever known. He groans, his hips moving faster as he drinks from you, feeling your pulse against his tongue. You gasp, your body tightening around him, and he knows you're close.

With a final, desperate push, he feels your orgasm ripple through you, your pussy clenching around him like a fist. It's all the encouragement he needs. He pulls out of you, his cock pulsing with his own release. He comes all over your back, the warmth of his cum mixing with the sticky wetness between your legs.

For a moment, you're both still, panting, your hearts racing in tandem. Then, Yeosang pulls you into his arms, turning you so you're nestled against his chest. He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. His tongue laps at the wound on your neck, healing it with his saliva. You shiver, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"How was it?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"It was…" you trail off, trying to find the words. "A-Amazing," you finally say, your voice a whisper. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

He smiles, his eyes shining with love. "I'm glad I could be the one to show you." He runs his hand through your hair, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"But we're not done yet."

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

 Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

 “You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace.  “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

[feyascorner]

as the snow falls

summary. years after becoming the vampire ascendant and harnessing the endless power he’s always wanted, the loneliness of his throne brings him to reminisce about the only person who’d ever cracked the surface of his frozen heart.

so why not visit them disguised as someone else?

warnings. angst, little to no comfort, bittersweet, this is kinda long

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

a/n. happy holidays everyone! I thought about making a fluffier fic but what’s better than holiday angst!! this takes place years after the game where Tav/reader breaks up with astarion once he becomes ascendant btw!

He hated fresh snow. At this time of year, he left the palace more often, leaving deep footprints that ruin its perfect evenness. He preferred when it was stained with blood, but then again, he preferred anything over untouched snow.

So when he sits up from his bed, which is far too big for one person, he sighs irritably at the snow falling softly on the other side of the window. His voice awakens the woman beside him, who rubs at her eyes, her other fingers grazing at the two identical puncture wounds at her neck.

To be quite honest, he'd forgotten she was there. He only notices her when she revels at what he's staring at, letting out a shrilling gasp. “My Lord, it’s snowing! How beautiful.”

Judging from the way she oh so comfortably addresses him, he figures she’s one of the newer servants in the palace. Any other half witted person would know to keep their head down and leave quietly, but not her. While it would bother him on any other occasion, he doesn't bother reprimanding her as his mind fails to supply him the words. He doesn't even know her name.

“Get out,” is all he says, voice an octave deeper than usual. There's a slight pause before she scrambles to climb out of the bed, finally having had some sense knocked into her. He only glances at her right as she shuts the door, eyes only noticing how her hair is the same shade as his late lover.

When he turns back to his window, he remembers how your hair had looked softer than hers. He remembers the way it had felt when he ran his fingers through your strands, and the way you'd smile in that enchanting way of yours. The way he'd let you run your own hands through white curls in return, immersed in a world where only the two of you existed in that cruddy tent while the very real problems of the outside world didn’t weigh as heavy as they usually did.

He pulls the curtains closed.

By the time he gets to his throne room, the palace is already wide awake. While Cazador’s operations had run themselves mainly during the night, Astarion was different. He could bathe in the sun all he wanted and would only come out glowing, and he'd abuse that to his full advantage. He was not afraid of the sun, because they were not the same.

They were not the same at all.

As he paces by the servants, they all hush down, quietly returning to their busy schedules as they prepare whatever housework they'd been assigned to. When he perches on his throne, he looks down at all of them, eyes narrowed at each of their movements. He’s not truly paying any of them any attention, except for the occasional ones who have the same shade of hair as the servant this morning. Those ones have puncture wounds on their necks.

Even if their blood tastes vile in comparison to yours, it’s the closest he can get.

Finally, something truly catches his attention. If he didn't have such keen ears, he wouldn't have heard the few in the corner, whispering.

“The heroes are celebrating the restoration of the city at Elfsong tavern tonight!” one says excitedly. “Do you think Master will go see them?”

“No, certainly not,” another responds. “He rarely meets them anymore, does he? Shame. I would love to see them in person before they leave. I heard a few of them won’t be coming back for a while.”

“Surely we could go ourselves?”

“Well,” one ponders. “If we hurry with all our assignments perhaps we can make it in time…”

Astarion snaps back into attention when a male servant approaches him, admittedly with a swallow of his throat. “My Lord.”

“What is it?” he snaps, thought it surprises even himself how harshly it came out. Not that he cares.

“T-the entire first floor has been scraped clean, my Lord. The second floor, twice,” he stammers, eyes looking anywhere but at Astarion’s face. While it first boosted his ego seeing others cower in fear, now it just irritates him. “Of course, we haven't touched the left wing, as you instructed, but there were some worries regarding the dust collecting in the main bedroom there, and-”

“The left wing will remain the way it is until I orderwise,” Astarion responds immediately, then pauses. “Tell the others to rid the yards of snow.”

The servant’s eyes go wide. “But my Lord, it’s still snowing…and there's already a few inches—to clean it would just result in the snow piling again-”

“I won't repeat myself, child.”

He is not like Cazador. Not at all.

As the servant stumbles away with a frantic nod, Astarion’s gaze drifts towards the windows again. He’d had them installed the second he took possession of the palace, refusing to keep its walls in darkness any longer. He'd torn off the curtains, wallpaper, decorations, and replaced them all with new ones—ones that were more to his liking. It was an entirely new Palace, and yet…

The only place he'd left untouched was the left wing. He knew the servant’s words came from reason. The left wing was surely to rot away at this rate, being left unoccupied for so long. He hated the way it had no windows, the way the curtains were the same blood red shade Cazador had favored, and how the hallway was only dimly lit with a few candles.

He closes his eyes.

He remembers your voice so clearly, he might’ve mistaken you for standing right before him. “Once we kill Cazador, isn't this place yours?”

He had raised a brow. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”

“Maybe you can make this place more pleasing to the eye, I don't like how dark it is now.”

“Really? I am curious as to what you would deem admirable interior design. Perhaps I’ll give you a portion of the palace to yourself, my dear.”

He snaps his eyes open.

He truly hated when it snowed.

He looks down at all his subjects once more. And this time, he found the isolation of the throne eating at a heart that he no longer had.

——

The snow doesn't stop, even as the sun sets.

And while he detests himself for doing so, he finds himself entering Elfsong tavern, where the night’s just begun. After hours of contemplation, convincing himself he had no reason to join the celebrations of common folk, he thinks of course you of all people would celebrate at a mere tavern over a lavish party with the rich. Of course you'd prefer to listen to a less than pathetic excuse for a bard than a musician with years of experience.

He curses that humble streak of yours as he steps into the building with a disguise spell. He’s still an elf, handsome but not as much as his ordinary self. His hair is a shade of chestnut brown, eyes in a different color than his usual as well. It’s enough to pass as a different person.

He doesn't have to look around long, because someone bumps into his shoulder, yelping an obnoxious ‘ow!’ before turning to him. And while Astarion contemplates a more violent outcome for daring to cross a vampire, he quickly stops when he sees a familiar wizard.

“Sorry about that. Have a lot on my hands right now,” Gale apologizes with that annoying smile of his before rushing back to his table with the two drinks in his hands. It’s crowded in the tavern, but none of it stops Astarion from spotting you in an instant.

Gods above.

That same shade of hair framing your laughing expression is all he can see. Gale sets the drinks in front of you and Shadowheart, and the vampire makes out your thanks from the way you mouth the words before taking a chug from it.

You’ve matured. Your hair is styled differently than he remembers from a few years ago. The way you carry yourself is different too. And you seem more comfortable under so many gazes—all of which he wishes it were only his.

You look happy.

A part of himself hates you for it.

But when he dwells on the feeling a moment too long, he realizes it’s more directed to himself. Because while you sit there with that beautiful smile on your face, surrounded by your companions and the admiration of the city, all he has is the cold grips of his throne, where all he seems to think about is blood, and more importantly, you.

Enough, he thinks. He's making a fool of himself. He's sure you'd rather not see him anyway, after the poor falling out the two of you had. And he's not sure what he'd do if you came too close to him, which is also something he'd rather not test.

But then, you stand up. You wave something at the others before pacing across the tavern toward the back door. Astarion doesn't even have to will his legs to move before they're halfway across the door, trailing after you.

When he finds you again, you're ankle deep in the fresh layer of snow behind the loud tavern, in the otherwise quiet city of the night. You're staring at the sky as a snowflake lands on your nose, and you make no moves to wipe it off, instead you breathe in, and then out, leaving Astarion to stare blankly from the shadows.

“You can come out, you know. I promise I don't bite,” you hum, and a lump grows in his throat. Still, he does.

“It’s cold,” he says.

“It is,” you smile, oblivious to who you're speaking to through the disguise. He simultaneously wants to reveal himself and hide in the shadows. “It’s nice though. I've always loved snow, and this might be my last chance to see it in Baldur’s Gate for a while.”

He stares at the way your breath steams against the freezing air. “Have plans of travel? Surely a hero like you would prefer to stay in a city of people in your debt.”

“Adventuring, probably,” you shrug, turning your gaze back down to the snow. “I’ve done what I can here. No reason for me to stay.”

The selfish part of him flares, though it seems to be most of him nowadays. Him. He should be the reason.

His brows furrow. “You won't be coming back?”

“Probably not for a while. This city holds a lot of memories, and not all of them are ones I'm rather fond of,” you sigh. “I just wish I could've helped more people, but I suppose life just doesn't work out the way you want it to.”

He raises a brow. “How ambitious. I would think saving an entire city is enough for at least a few lifetimes.”

“Well,” your voice drops. “There was one more person I really wanted to help. One that I lost.”

He remains quiet, eyes glued to the way you kick at the snow.

“I should have guided him better. Should have let him know that he was enough. Not because he was some all powerful being, but just because he was him. I thought—” your nose crinkles. “—I thought I'd been helping him, by encouraging him any way I could. But that tore us apart, and I'd do anything to go back and fix it.”

To be in that tent again, to hold you close again, to love you again.

“Sounds like a lucky man to receive such endearing words from you,” is all he manages.

You snort, laughing a bit. “I was the lucky one to have ever met him. I just wish our time together hadn't been so short.”

And as you hold out cupped hands to the sky, gathering the snow, Astarion feels his chest go impossibly tight when you finally meet his eyes. Gods, had he missed them. “I wish we could've seen the snow together. The first snow in the morning, when nothing’s touched it and it’s just a perfect even layer. I think he would have liked it.”

“I’m sure,” he says. “I’m sure he would've enjoyed watching the snow with you.”

You smile again, and he forces down the urge to pull you closer right then and there. To remind you that you can have all that, and more. He could give you everything, the world be damned. He could have you sit on his lap in the throne of his palace, and fill your head with hushed promises of love and praises, holding you tight to his side with one hand and wine in the other.

He could forget about how cold the throne feels.

Instead, he only watches you step out of the snow and pace towards the door leading back to the tavern. And as you open the door, you glance back at him. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I ought to return home. I have quite the night ahead of me.”

You tilt your head. “Shame, I was hoping to buy you a drink for listening to a complete stranger for five minutes.”

Astarion offers a slight nod. “Perhaps next time, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He hates the churning inside of him as he realizes this is your final farewell. This is the last time you’ll give him your full attention, and he detests the way all he wants to do is to convince you to stay. To realize he can offer so much more than the rest of the world. That he’d ruin the world for you.

But when your smile softens, he stops himself again. He curses the effect you have on him. “Next time, then.”

And then the door shuts closed.

He stares at it for a long time, waging an internal battle where he struggles to gather his composure relentlessly until he looks away and turns his attention back to the snow.

He breathes. Not because he has to—because he doesn't—but because it finally allows his shoulders to relax.

The air is cold in his throat.

Somehow, from here rather than the view from his bedroom, the snow doesn't look so bad.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ/ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ ➠ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

pairing: vampire lord! seonghwa x human! reader (fem) feat. a two second cameo from vampire! san

genre: abo, kinda historical (think guilded era vibe but vampires and humans coexisting kinda), smut

summary: you decide to play with your master’s feelings during the annual masquerade ball held between vampires and occasionally their human counterparts.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: alcohol usage, mentions of blood, general vampirism/hierarchies, dom! seonghwa, bratty! reader fucks around and finds out, dirty talk, ownership kink, exhibitionism/voyeurism, praise/degradation, possessiveness, pet names/name calling, manhandling, blood drinking, groping, rough blowjob, spit mentions, fingering, orgasm denial, facial, cum eating, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, l bombs

a/n: im obsessed with the idea of criminally insane cunty vampires so i sat hunched over like a damn shrimp and typed up a storm tyvm. also !!! this fic is dedicated to my dear friend orion @pluvialorion ilysmmmm ughh i hope you enjoy >< <33

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“Those two are always up to something, I swear. It’s so  troublesome,” one old age vampire muttered, complaining about you and your vampire Master to the person standing besides her outside of the ballroom circle. She adjusted her masquerade mask, put off by the sight of you downing a glass full of expensive wine. “Why the council ever decided to allow humans to attend our annual blood balls is beyond me.” 

“They always cause a scene,” the other old age vampire agreed, turning his head to watch as you whimsically made your way across the dance floor in your heavy laced dress, taking the hand of any vampire that wanted to dance with you, while your Master watched from the side with growing annoyance. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Yes, it’s completely inappropriate, the way they act like they’re the main characters inside some overdone fictional novel,” she scoffed, the vampiress getting herself worked up over nothing, her fingers clenching around her own wine glass filled with a blood blend. 

“You hit the nail on the head, or should I say the stake,” the undead gentleman chuckled, one hand on his hip, the other tilting his wine glass back to drink down its bloody contents, watching you trade one dance partner for another, surprised that you were letting a new age vampire get so handsy with you. “Oh, here we go.” 

Seonghwa reached up to brush at his flowy raven hair in a frustrated manner, his furrowed brows and scrunched-up face not doing much to dispel your current goal in pissing off your Master in hopes that he would chase you across the castle grounds and fuck you into oblivion. “You’re asking for it, little lamb…” he mumbled to himself, the bright red hue in his eyes growing brighter by the second. 

“I didn’t realize you were interested in me, Miss Y/N. Care to forget about your sour, old age counterpart over there and spend the night with me?” the charming, feline-like vampire you were using whispered into your ear, holding your body impossibly close to his as you both slowly rotated together in timed circles according to the flow of the orchestra music that was playing throughout the large ballroom. 

“Oh, Mr. Choi, try not to puff out your chest just yet,” you murmured back with faux pity, clasping your fingers around his cheeks, feeling his fingers inch closer and closer to your ass, able to feel the fiery gaze of your lover from afar. “You’re simply a puppet for my amusement.”

The vampire scoffed, still finding it inside himself to twirl you around and bring you back into his arms, his fingers clasping around your waist a little tighter than before, clearly irritated. “That’s quite rude of you, human. You could’ve lied.” 

“Does it matter? I’m not trying to impress you,” you huffed, eyeing Seonghwa out of the corner of your vision, noticing the way he clutched the edge of the aged mahogany table being used to showcase various blood-filled desserts. Just as the vampire was about to speak up, you shook your head, silencing him. “Just hurry up and grab my ass, will you? And grab it hard. I want Seonghwa to–Oh!”

The peeved vampire did indeed get a handful, his fingers sinking deep into your squishy flesh through your dress, leaning over your shoulder to make eye contact with Seonghwa, who was fuming, still having the gall to stick his tongue out at him. 

An intoxicating mix of anger and arousal coursed through Seonghwa to the point that it all spilled out of him at once, resulting in a short, aggressive shout, the other patrons looking over their own shoulders to see what was going on. Sadly, they weren’t very surprised to watch him lift up the side of the heavy dessert table and toss it across the room with a frightening amount of ease, narrowly missing the heads of the orchestra members. 

You let go of San who quickly scampered away, not wanting to feel the vampire lord’s intense wrath. You, however, took pride in seeing the way your lover was seething, how he pierced you with his dark crimson eyes and delightfully suffocating pheromones alone, his white, elongated fangs already on display for you, knowing he wished he could just sink them directly into the most delicate parts of your body. 

“Why are you so angry, my love?” you called out to him with faux naivety, giving him a pout, motioning to the mess that had spilled onto the sheer marble floor. “You ruined all those lovely desserts.” 

“And almost took the head off of a violin player, but I digress,” the older vampire from before murmured to her friend, the both of them chortling softly to themselves. 

“Oh, you know what you’ve done, darling,” Seonghwa tsked from across the room, taking slow, deliberate steps in your direction, his high-heeled shoes clacking lightly against the pristine floor, most of the other patrons stepping out of his way. “I have a question for you. Do you know what happens to pretty things that disobey their Masters?” 

You brought your hand up to lift off your masquerade mask just in time for Seonghwa to stand directly in front of you, his lean, elegant frame towering over yours. “I’m unaware of the answer, dearest. Do pray tell.” Your face twisted into something that could only be described as smug. Seonghwa wanted to wipe that expression off your face and turn it into something more worthwhile — flushed, contorted with a lovely mix of pain and pleasure, and painted in his cum.

“They get punished, my sweet. So, I suggest you hike up that lovely dress I bought you and get to running.” 

࿏࿏࿏

There was something so exhilarating about having the love of your life chase after you, knocking over furniture and pushing other vampires out of the way just to get his hands on you. You would look back occasionally, catching glimpses of the hazy blood-lust in Seonghwa’s eyes, resulting in a fresh wave of slick between your thighs. 

Somewhere along the line, you had ended up in the castle garden, your bare feet hitting the soft grass, having lost your heels during your chaotic trek there. Panting softly, your breath hitting the cold night air, you realized you were surrounded by chipping marble statues of vampires of the past, a maze of blood-red roses covered in thorns surrounding a sleek stone gazebo, and thousands of constellations sitting in the dark sky above you. 

“Caught you, little lamb…” you heard in a deep, gravelly voice, shivers making their way up your spine. Seonghwa took slow steps near you, finding it amusing how you trapped yourself in a corner, his entire being pulsing with sexually-charged aggression. “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You want me to have my way with you, don’t you, sweetheart?”  

Rather than replying verbally, you simply held up the front of your dress, showing off your plump, slicked-up cunt for his viewing pleasure, your lips twisted up into a perverted smile, lust practically emanating from your form. “What do you think, my love? Does my wet cunt give you any hints?” 

Before you knew it, Seonghwa had you pinned to the side of the gazebo, one hand on your shoulder to keep you still with his immense strength and the other underneath your hiked-up skirt, fucking you deep with two agile fingers, not concerned with the occasional passerby, some of them slowing down to witness the titillating sight of a vampire lord punishing his human counterpart.

“I can feel you squeezing around my fingers, sweet. Is my poor little lamb already falling apart for me?” he asked with faux pity against your neck, sucking your soft flesh into his mouth to leave a mark, piercing them lightly with his fangs. “Is it because anyone can come by and see the way I have my hand up your skirt and hear the pretty little moans that you’re making for your darling?”

“N-ooo, it’s because it’s you, Seonghwa,” you sighed out softly, a familiar heaviness filling your core until your legs went wobbly, moaning from the feeling of Seonghwa gulping down just enough of your life source to make you pleasantly dizzy, his fingers still slipping in and out of your leaking cunt.

“Mm, it’s a pity though. I wish Mr. Choi knew just how quick I can make your pretty cunt leak all these juices onto me,” he purred against your soft skin, slurping your arousal from his fingers before cupping his palm onto your hot cunt, lightly moving it over your clit, knowing he was pleasuring you just enough to make you squirm, but aware that your much-needed orgasm had faded away due to his control.

He brought his still dripping fingers up to your mouth, pleased that you obediently sucked your own slick off of them, his gaze flitting between your lips and love-struck eyes. “He’ll never see you like this. See the way you need me in every possible way I can have you…”

“It’s only for you to see, my love,” you replied lovingly, pressing your lips onto his, drawing Seonghwa into you like a moth to a blazing flame.

You shared a series of frenzied, heated kisses that consisted too much of tongue, teeth, and fangs, your hand slipping into Seonghwa’s loosened satin trousers to swiftly jerk him off, his abundant pre-cum squishing in between your closed fingers, your quick, unrelenting grip causing him to wobble a bit, the thick edges of his heeled shoes sinking further into the grass below. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, Hwa? You’re so hard for me, throbbing, leaking so much…”

“Fuck–I need you, darling, need you bare for me, need your pretty mouth around my cock,”Seonghwa groaned out onto your lips, nipping at it enough to get a small taste of iron on his own crimson stained ones. Without a word, he tore your dress from your body, pearls falling from your broken necklace and landing around your feet. You gasped. He clasped his hands around your corseted waist, bringing his face near your neck, his lips just barely touching your skin. “On your knees, my love.” 

You melted to the floor, reaching up to hold onto his hips, watching his cock spring out once his pants lowered past his v-line, eventually holding it in front of your drooling mouth. You studied him, your eyes traveling up his shiny, curved length to his pronounced pink head, sticking your tongue out to catch a drop of his pre-cum on your tongue. “It’s so pretty, Hwa…”

“I know it is, sweetheart. Now, open up,” he exhaled softly, slipping his slender fingers into your soft hair to clutch the sides of your head, plugging your mouth up with his thick cock. 

Seonghwa fucked your face so quickly, so sloppily, so desperately, he reached his end in a matter of minutes, bringing you down onto his cock until your nose pressed into his pelvis, feeling your throat contracting around him. “Fuck, you drive me mad, darling…I’m already about to cum….”

It was when he was able to smell the endless slick that dripped out of your needy cunt, that Seonghwa pulled out, rubbing his cockhead across your lips and smearing his pre-cum across your face, ruining the perfect state of your makeup. “You look so pretty, my love, but I know how to make you look even more divine for me…”

“Enlighten me, my dear,” you sighed lovingly, licking the warm saltiness from your lips.

“Watch closely. This is all for you, darling…” Seonghwa gazed down at you with his crimson, hooded eyes, his chest rising and lowering with shallow breaths, using his closed hand to milk his flushed cock, seemingly endless splashes of cum landing onto your face. “Mm, what do you think Mr. Choi would think of you now, little lamb? Think of your lovely face painted with my cum?” 

“He’d think I was a mess,” you mused, licking the bitter milkiness from your swollen lips, opening your mouth to take one last spurt of cum onto your tongue when Seonghwa moaned wantonly, his fingers squeezing near the pinkish tip. “He’d know I’m yours.” 

“My mess, my beautiful darling. Of course he’d know you’re mine. All mine,” Seonghwa sighed dreamily, lowering himself to his knees to pull you in for a deep kiss, your tongues and lips meeting with fervent need. 

“You think he’d enjoy watching you fuck me into ecstasy?” you asked in between heavy breaths and kisses, hooking your thighs around his bare waist, slipping your hands onto the bare skin of his chest past his loose blouse, your fingers grazing his nipples. 

“I’d take off his head, before I’d let him watch the way your cunt stretches open for me,” Seonghwa groaned, groping down your body, rubbing two fingers against your slippery folds, his fangs returning to your neck, this time indulging his instincts and slipping inside you, resulting in soft throes of pleasure from the both of you. “Speaking of, your little cunt needs my cock, doesn’t it? Is that why you’re so wet?” 

“Yes, please, I can’t stand being empty any longer, my love,” you whined to him, your squelching cunt already beginning to clench around his thrusting fingers, wishing his cock was filling you up instead. 

“You won’t be able to cum with just my fingers, will you, darling? Because your lovely body is only accustomed to my cock, isn’t it? Made for it, hm?” Seonghwa continued to tease you with his words, curling his digits inside you, resulting in increasingly heavy moans from his one and only, encouraging him to fuck you faster with them. “Fuck, you’re clenching so hard around me, darling. You’re so good for me…”

“Oh–my god, so close…” 

“Yeah? You want to spill your cum all over me, Y/N? Make a mess of me?” Seonghwa encouraged breathily, his forehead pressed to yours, pressing his lips against yours in between moans. 

“Y–esss…” 

Just as you were about to cum, you were suddenly filled with a devastatingly empty feeling, realizing he had pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, sucking your vast amounts of slick off of them. “N-no, please, Seonghwa, I want to cum…!”

“You’ll have to cum on my cock, sweetheart. Now, be good and take it,” he replied softly, his voice devoid of pity, the ridged edge of his cock hooking onto your clit and making you jolt, before he slipped inside you inch by inch, sending you back into a pleasurable fog. “I’ll breed you until you’re full for me.” 

“So full, I’m so full, darling.” You hooked your arms around his neck, holding him impossibly close, his lips already attached to your neck again, shuddering against him as he drank down your life-source, his cock offering your cunt a delicious stretch each time he pounded into you. “So good, Hwa, it feels so good…” 

“Because we were made for each other, my love, our souls always intertwined, forever, you’ll always be mine,” Seonghwa reminded you in between pants and soft moans, his raven hair already plastered to his forehead with sweat, love and admiration seeping its way through his lust-struck gaze, kneading his hands into your thighs, your warm, sopping-wet cunt enveloping his cock so tightly, he couldn’t keep himself from unloading wave after wave of his hot cum inside you, so deeply it reached your womb. “Fuck, you’re milking my cock, darling, just take it all, take it all for me…”

You couldn’t say anything, only letting out a near soundless whine, clutching the back of Seonghwa’s head, never breaking eye contact as you experienced what could only be described as pure bliss, your bodies and hearts melting together. “I love you, Seonghwa, so much,” you finally got out, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love you too, Y/N, more than you’ll ever know,” he replied just as softly, carefully cupping your heated face with his cold hands, like he was afraid you would shatter into a thousand pieces and fall away from his grasp. Seonghwa was completely flushed, his long raven hair now a mess, sticking to his sweaty face, his plush lips a deep red. “Now do you see what you do to me, darling?”

You nuzzled into him, your heart beating against his quiet one, the cool night breeze gracing your warm, joined skin, knowing you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I think I have an idea.”

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[steviebunny]

2. Glorified Cult Leader

Dubai

"So Daniel, do you have any questions?"

The reporter stares at Louis in near astonishment, removing his glasses to rub his aching head.

"About the woman with the face full of teeth? Yes, I have fucking questions! You had that one in disguise this whole time" Daniel motions to Armand with his glasses "Should I assume there's a demon lady pretending to dust shelves in a sexy maid uniform somewhere around here?"

Louis crosses an ankle over his knee with a slight laugh, Armand's arm loops over the back of the back of the sofa and rubs his hand. "No. Nothing like that. Patience Daniel and good things will come, let the story take you where it needs you to be."

___

Paris

The Rusalka moves gracefully through the vast library shelves, fingers gently grazing cover after cover. Heeled shoes moving after the other creating an echo off the marble floors. Her head raises, no longer lost in thought- she sniffs the air.

"You can come out, you're not nearly as sneaky as you seem to think you are."

A tapping of leather soles against the floor much like her own sounds from behind her.

The well-dressed leader she met the other evening walks out from behind a shelf, he leans against the wood shifting his weight onto one hip, placing his hand in his coat pocket with well-rehearsed grace. 

Her eyes trace over him and then roll “If you’re trying to kill me I wish you luck, it’s not easy.”

“Who says I wish to end your life?” 

“Your kind is territorial, I haven’t had the best experiences in the past, can you blame me for running? Not to mention your man chased me, not a very good first impression.” 

“Santiago is not my man.” His stoicism falls face curling in disgust at the accusation. 

“Right, you’re paired with the bookworm.” Her eyes shine and something swipes sideways, blinking slowly like an alligator. 

“You’re no longer deemed a threat. Siren. But you’re perspective, we could have a place for one of your kind in the coven. So long as you behave of course.”

“Wrong.” 

“Hmm?” His eyebrows perk up and his head tilts. 

“Not a siren. Similar, but I don’t sing. And I don’t lure unfaithful men to the depths. I just eat the evil ones, it’s a lot less dramatic that way.”

“You get to define what evil is?”

“Yes. You, vampires, are so strange…you love each other so purely, even when you hate. It’s so obvious, but you keep screwing each other over? I can’t tell if it’s a self-preservation instinct or not. I think you’d be a lot happier if your covens were big love fests instead of the whole master-servant dynamic.”

Armand scowls, fangs dipping slightly with a cat-like hiss. “You think yourself omniscient? We need structure, solitary vampires either wither by their lonesome until they meet the flame or sow chaos in their wake. Humans always search for more, money, power, love, knowledge, more. Why hold on to this part of your humanity when you can live content? A part of something better, the coven offers such.”

The rusalka laughs and her melodious voice has a sharp screech-like tinge to it- “Content! Oh, so great coven leader!” She cries clasping her hands together, pressing them against her face. “Who surrounds himself with sycophants, Truly the best representation of a content being, yeah? You vampires want just as much as I do. You’re not built to be lonely, companionship is in your blood. So don’t preach to me about contentment you glorified cult leader.”

Armand steps closer, face inches from the rusalka towering over her, he removes his sunglasses- tucking them into his chest pocket he looks deep into her eyes and calmly with a sneer says “You’re vulnerable. It makes you weak. We are not the only coven in France and you will not be able to run forever. Unless of course, you aim to end your studies so quickly after arriving.”

“How’d you…?”

“I may not be able to read your mind but this place is flooding with your peers. It’s quite the story you’ve concocted for yourself, the best lies are rooted in some truth are the not?” 

“My vulnerability is my power, just as yours could be. Screw your rules and your laws, going behind each others backs to make things end up your way. Just to end in failure. May it be a century or a millennia from now, but still failure.”

“Then let me offer you this. Join the coven. Prove to them why the laws should change.”

—

Dubai

“Is this my cue?” Daniel had been imagining this voice since it was first described to him but the reality was something else altogether. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to pick up a maid’s uniform. I know how much you like the Univision style.” The woman rounds the furniture flashing a smile at the two vampires and perching herself on the arm of the journalist's seat.

“You still smell of him.” Armand’s lip curls and Louis looks to the tempered windows for a distraction.

“I didn’t have time to swim yet either. You’re the two avoiding him. I made no such promise, I’m not involved.”

“Wait! Please tell me she isn’t taking about-”

“Lestat.” Louis interrupts as Daniel looks to the Rusalka with a look that borders on horror. “There’s an agreement in place. When she’s here she doesn’t discuss him, when she’s there she won’t discuss us.”

“It's a horrendous deal, really.”

“HOW DOES SHE EVEN KNOW LESTAT?!”

Louis stands and stretches his arms to his companions, each of them placing a hand in one of his. “This seems like a natural breaking point, you should rest Daniel. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Louis immediately begins to escort his partners out of the room leaving the reporter in shock.

“WHAT KIND OF HORSE-SHIT DO YOU MEAN BY NATURAL BREAKING POINT?!”

---

Thank you for reading. Sorry this isn't very long :(

[writememysticfalls]

Dive In | Stefan Salvatore

Summary: You're about to have sex with your boyfriend Stefan for the first time, but he can't get his ex-girlfriend out of his mind.

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Shirtless!Stefan, angst

Word Count: 1k

Stefan followed you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You were going to have sex for the first time tonight. Stefan would be lying if he said he hadn't fantasised about it.

“So… your aunt’s at a conference. Your brother is at a friend's house,” Stefan said. “What's the catch?”

“No catch,” you said, shutting the door and grinning at him. “Just us.”

You sat on the bed facing your mirror, and kicked off your shoes. You pulled your vest top over your head.

Stefan lay back on the bed, resting on his elbows, admiring the way the light caught the little spots of brown in your hair.

“As soon as my clothes are off, I'm diving under the blanket, okay? God, this part’s always so awkward,” you said.

But Stefan wasn't listening. A shiver ran through him. Cold sweat pooled at the base of his spine. He had spotted a brown mole, right in the centre of your back. Katherine had a mole on her back, too.

Suddenly, it was 1864 again.

He heard the sputter of the gas lamp in the corner. Katherine swept her curls away from her back, revealing the mole he loved - and angry red bite marks on her neck.

Stefan leapt forward, touching the marks.

“I see you've noticed my battle scars. Your brother has quite a nasty mouth,” Katherine teased.

Stefan felt only horror as he remembered that vampires healed within minutes. Katherine must have come straight from his brother’s room.

“Stefan,” you said, straddling him, and playing with his hair. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly. “Fine. Sorry. You're beautiful.”

You smiled, but your eyes were serious. “You do… want to do this, right?”

Stefan nodded, plastering on a smile. How could he explain the truth - that he was disturbed by how much you reminded him of Katherine?

He had felt this way a few times before. He would notice something - the way your voice got higher when you were annoyed, or your smirk when you told an innuendo - and he would feel a slight shiver of deja vu. But it had never been this bad.

You bit your lip, looking down, your body leaning over his.

Stefan noticed that your dark eyes still had that shyness of adolescence, which Katherine’s had never had. You were nothing like Katherine. Slowly and gratefully, he kissed you.

You kissed him back, then kissed a trail down his jaw and to his neck. This time, when he shivered from your wet lips, it was a good feeling.

And then, like a red wave, the memories flooded back.

Katherine, her lips on his neck. Suddenly, sharp teeth as she bit down into his flesh, sucking his blood. At first, the sting was bearable, but then it became an ache, spreading through his neck and to his chest. He imagined bleeding to his death, right there in his bed. He felt his eyelids flutter, panic making him drowsy.

“No,” he mumbled. “It hurts…. It hurts…”

You frowned at him. “Stefan! Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, no…” he said.

Stefan was getting angry at himself. Why should his life be ruined by a crappy relationship 150 years ago? Immortals couldn't get PTSD, for god’s sake. Katherine was in his head, in his bed, just when he was trying to connect to you. It wasn't fair.

He would just have to push through the fear and get over it. The first step was to make the situation as different to 1864 as possible.

Stefan lifted you with one hand and manoeuvred you so his body was on top of yours, a position Katherine never allowed.

Already, the panic of a moment ago was fading like a distant nightmare. Screwing his eyes shut, he kissed you again, with a passion that would silence all of your worries.

In a few minutes, your naked bodies were rocking to an even rhythm. Stefan felt a sense of victory bubbling up in him like lava. This was almost over. He could master his trauma from Katherine. He could be your man, in every way you needed him to be.

Then, he heard himself moan, from deep in his throat. Strangely, that was what reminded him of 1864.

“I love it when you moan for me, Stefan” Katherine said. His back was pressed against his bedroom wall, and Katherine’s mouth was all over him. Katherine’s lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “I can tell that Damon is listening just through that wall.” Stefan tried to stifle the sounds coming from his mouth, panic filling him, but Katherine only laughed. “Don't be afraid, darling. He loves the shows we put on for him.”

Stefan opened his eyes, forcing himself to look at you and see your wide, youthful eyes, so different from Katherine’s. However, the flashback remained.

Gasping for breath, Stefan rolled away from you, curling up into a ball. He had failed. Katherine had got in his head, and he hadn't been able to stop her.

For a long time, you just lay there by him, slowly stroking his back.

Finally, you said, “It was Katherine, wasn't it?”

Stefan turned, stunned. “You knew?”

You shrugged. “I guessed.”

“Do you wish I was more like her?” you said quietly, and Stefan could hear that you had avoided asking this question for a long time.

Stefan turned to you and took in your beautiful eyes and thick, wet lashes. “No. I promise you, if there is one thing that can save me from the memory of Katherine, it's you, Y/n. You're kind, you're selfless, you would die for your family - you're everything she wasn’t.” Stefan smiled. “We just might have to take things slow for a while.”

You kissed Stefan’s hand. “You can tell me things, you know. I might be young, but I've lived through stuff too.”

Stefan smiled. “I know.”

​—

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