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just-null-cult · 6 months

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YO, SUPER LATE SUPER LONG SUPER MESSY OCTOBER POST THAT I JUST SHOVED EVERYTHING INTO BC I DIDN'T WANT TO DO MULTIPLE. FUCK IT.

I forgot halfway that these were supposed to be costumes and not mini aus... SO REMEMBER IN MY PLACE, EVERYTHING IS HYPOTHETICAL. also. some have a bit of yandere elements to them bc its SO FITTING FOR NORITOSHI.

Happy late October, everyone. it's winter now. Let's get it, baby.

[Long rambles and doodles under the cut!]

Vampire!

I kept asking myself, "How sexy is too sexy.." and "How the fuck does a sexy vampire even look like without it being a shirtless guy w fangs or Edward Cullen....." I think I figured it out

Sure, sure, vampires are superhumans with sun allergies that can drink blood really hotly. They can also easily overpower you to feast and blah blah blah, but what if said vampire (Noritoshi) was too weak to do any of that? Not literally, but he craves your say. He wants not only your blood but your affection. He wants to get praised as he drinks you in. Are you comfortable? How much will you allow him to take? Do you want to get him back in return? Guidance with this makes him feel more at ease. It's still Noritoshi at the end of the day. He's going to find a way to be a little awkward about you because of his crush. He refuses to drink from anyone other than you, even if it causes his death. Therefore, he has to keep you healthy! For the rest of your lives..! Besides, he can't really go outside or else he'd.. y'know. So if you think about it, this is a very beneficial relationship for both of you!!

The only downside is that you're losing blood on the regular, and for some reason, more people are moving away... Probably nothing, right? Noritoshi is always there to keep you company and help you recover anyways.

Witch!

my attempts also bled into the witch design.... you got greedy with requesting two in one ask, but I'll spoil you this time bc I also wanted to see Noritoshi as a (sexy) vampire and witch. heh. AND I DIDNT REALIZE HED BE SO CUTE AS A WITCH..... WHAT THE FUCK?? rip momo, fight for your title of cute witch...

Noritoshi strikes me as one of those witches who'd rather be left to their own devices because they're running some important magic whatever in the background. though, he'll take some breaks and indulge you if you insist on having him around. Insist meaning you pass by and strike conversation, leaving him to neglect anything and everything to prioritize his time with you. He doesn't want to use magic on you unless it's beneficial for either you or both. Noritoshi likes a natural progression with you that he knows for a fact is true and not some product of some spell. Though it doesn't mean he wouldn't use charms and such to get you to interact with him more often to speed up the process!

Can't sleep? He has a remedy perfect for that! Bad luck? Oh no, take a charm. Nerves? A potion he perfected will help you ease your jitters. Annoying peers? With a snap of Noritoshi's fingers, they're gone! Just don't ask what happened. Enjoy yourself instead and come to him with any new issue. He's quick to resolve it.

Definitely has some sort of doll that looks suspiciously like you.. Noritoshi would probably talk to it and practice one liners that give you the strongest sense of nostalgia once he uses them. He's simultaneously giddy that the charm he put in the doll works but also a little annoyed that his hard work isn't surprising you, but leaving you with deja vu.

Idol!

i was crying the entire time bc what does an idol look like.... noritoshi is handsome enough to be an idol without actually being an idol... now i can confirm that idols are very well dressed though. thumbs up 100% but i had some thoughts...

[Idol]

Noritoshi would be the type to cherish his fans, but hold clear favoritism over you. he'd be those idols that look cold, but they talk, and they sound smug in a charming way. i don't know much about idols, but i know he'd be so fucking good.... he'd be the type of guy to sing to you amongst the hundreds in the crowd.... ahhh the interviews w these famous aus. they're just talking and acting like themselves. can you imagine Noritoshi getting asked the question if he has a lover or not? he can lie, im sure you're alright with that, but he doesn't want to!! he does have someone!!! someone he loves more than all his fans love for him combined!!! he just can't say it for the sake of your privacy and his career. so Noritoshi does what any charming guy who's good with their words does. he deflects the question. answering the question, but not really, that'd be something he's known for. fans online are split on why Noritoshi does this. some think he's trying to keep that side of his life private, others think he's trying to mess around, and others think he's hiding a secret lover!!! though the last one is usually seen as the outlandish one, sometimes it makes Noritoshi's heart drop bc they get some things right. "Having a lover is a complicated question hidden behind a simple disguise. If I had to answer, I'd say my lovers are my audience. they make sure i'm well cared for, some more than others." AND HIS FUCKING LITTLE SMIRK I CANT COUGHS UP BLOOD. IM A THEORIST TOO. SECRET LOVER. 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

ON THE FLIP SIDE....

[Not an Idol]

An amusing thought where Noritoshi goes out in his casual clothes, and he's mistaken for an idol. No one knows who he is, but he just looks like he'd be one. bro's just trying to buy groceries, and now he has a fan group asking him to take pictures with them.. He'd tell them that he's just a guy, not an idol, but the group would still want a picture with him. it'd be a waste to pass by someone who's so naturally gorgeous, so with a sigh of defeat, he relents. It's just a photo, right? No harm done. Noritoshi'd go home and feel overwhelmed/embarrassed by the whole ordeal. later, he gets a call from someone in the kyoto group or you to inform him how he's all over social media, known as that handsome guy in the supermarket. HED BE COMPLETELY UNREACHABLE TO MEDIA OUTLETS BC NORITOSHI IS THAT GUY WHO DOESNT HAVE SOCIAL MEDIA.... he'd have to make one to make sure no one pretends to be him online. "Hello, I don't use social media, but I've been informed I've been getting attention online. To prevent anyone from being fooled by an impersonator, this is my official and only account. thank you." P.R. STATEMENT WRITING ASS.. his single post gets flooded with likes, comments, and DMs. it almost blows up his phone..... he was just buying bread, dude...... people try to dig up and find him through the other Kyoto group's social media.

[bonus] my second in command requested to put him in a fem idol outfit bc he thought it was funny. after frothing at the mouth and coughing out blood, I complied.

Doctor!

THIS IS SUCH A STRAIGHT FORWARD ASK BUT IT HAS SO MANY IMPLICATIONS. MY BELOVED CULT MEMBER.. THOSE EMOJIS GIVE ME A DIFFERENT IMPRESSION BUT IM NOT SURE.

Noritoshi as a doctor...... apple sales would plummet. his little clinic's business would skyrocket. sick cases would peak in his area. getting your heart checked by his stethoscope would be so fucking embarrassing bc all he'd hear is THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

LIKE IMAGINE IF THAT WAS YOUR DOCTOR? BRO.

COUGH COUGH HACK WHEEZE COUGH COUGH.

Noritoshi would probably own a small clinic that he wants to expand. That or he opened one after working for a hospital for a while. He's a great doctor who's most likely respected but a pain in the ass to work with. Among patients, he's gotten the hot doctor reputation. Most want to be treated by him, but he's so professional, any chance of trying to flirt goes down the drain. Yeah, he puts his hair up to avoid it in his face even though his eyes are closed classic lab safety procedures. He seems like the type to have a soothing but authoritative voice during examination, so he gets his message across. it's a bit difficult when dealing with patients for Noritoshi. If he sees them too often, he firstly scolds you for not taking care of yourself, then feels guilty for not giving you the proper care. Keep yourself safe and healthy, or else Noritoshi will clearly :( Putting him in a yandere setting would be dangerous. He'd have a lot of control over you, considering he can prescribe medication, shots, visits, and other things.... he'd have a ball.... nothing that would cause you any harm, of course. he's only looking out for you and doing what's best for you..!

Pirate!

my second in command wanted a pirate. pirates are so fucking cool and i know damn well if this guy were a pirate he'd have a bunch of battle scars under that fancy coat.

Noritoshi as a pirate would be more than a little odd, but also fitting. He looks like the type of guy who'd be well put together, yet he's willing to get his hands dirty. Like the guy who got into the pirate life because of some personal issue that couldn't be solved fast enough through conventional means. Even as a pirate, i imagine he holds everyone to high standards. They're still pirates though.. so his expected standards aren't even that high. He has more freedom here, so even he himself lets loose once or twice. Especially with you. He's even able to get away with more violent actions for you, the seas are unpredictable, after all. While taking some treasure, Noritoshi'd toss you a gem or golden coin, just so you can say you were the first to claim it. Just so he can see that happy glint in your eyes when getting your hands on treasure. God forbid anyone try to get their hands on your hard earned goods. They'd be met with a bullet to the foot or a sword at their neck. Everyone and their mother knows how you're his favorite, but Noritoshi downplays it. Its not a crime to help out someone from his crew is it? Not in the seven seas. He leans more into his cold ruthless killer side here. He has goals and people to help keep in line whether hes captain or not. Yet when around you, he's almost adorable in how he shows you a pearl so entrancing that it reminded him of you.

Corpse Bride!

my submission to my Noritoshi Halloween costume closet.. CORPSE BRIDE, THIS MOVIE FUCKS. esp w the yandere elements.

Noritoshi 100% made you recite the wedding vows to him before accepting the ring. If you fumbled up, he'd correct you with SO much attitude and expect you to start from the top until you got it perfectly.

Hypothetically, in the chalice scene towards the end..

Noritoshi is the type to never be fully relaxed unless he knows for sure you'll be eternally his. In this scenario, YOU proposed to HIM but have to die to continue being together. Not only that, but someone in the living world is also after your heart. Someone who bleeds. Someone who's the obvious choice. Someone who can give you the life that you deserve. Someone who will succeed in their pursuits if you. remain. alive. Noritoshi's life was cut short, yet he still managed to lose so much and be abandoned a considerable amount of times. When he meets you and finds out about the possibility of having to go through that again even in death, it finally clicks in his rotting mind. He realizes he's been doing something wrong to keep constantly failing. Noritoshi revises his methods to a more.. selfish course. Why should he care about anyone else's wants or how his actions hurt them? You were the only one who made him truly fulfilled, to make him feel alive. The only one who deserves anything and everything good that comes from this world. Destiny is never done toying with him when he realizes your marriage is invalid because of your pulse and his lack thereof no matter how hard he'd try, but the opportunity arises. of course, he's ecstatic to give you an afterlife worth much more than what a silly beating heart can achieve. "All people die eventually. If you miss your living family or friends, all it takes is patience, darling. I'll wait by your side in the meantime." He weighs the pros and cons of everything, but when it comes to swaying manipulating your thoughts he only highlights the ones that'll get you on his side. in this case, the pros of dying to be with him! Honestly, the answer was so obvious that Noritoshi didn't know why he was stressing about it before. It hurts him to see you in any type of pain, but he reassures both himself and you that it'll only be for a moment. Afterward, he'll have the rest of your afterlives to make it up to you!! What happened to Till Death Do Us Part? Noritoshi thinks it's insulting that something as shallow as that could be so widely accepted. If your love were true, it wouldn't stop just because the world decided to take them away. "Till death do us part? Darling, don't be silly. 'Not even death will do us part' feels much better, doesn't it?"

#noritoshi #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #yandere noritoshi #yandere kamo noritoshi #yandere noritoshi kamo #merry october #???#ragingbisegzual #charamander459 #I FUCKING LIVED THROGUH THIS GOD I FELT SO BAD I TOOK SO LONG ESP SINCE ITS ALREADY HALFWAY INTO NOVEMBER BUT HERE WE GO. BABY IS HERE #i thought i was so smart making this look like a fashion show. anyway hi im still alive just busy #vampire and witch nori were makin my brain fry bc all the outfits for guys were their shirt off. it was both funny and testing my creativit #as for idol.. heh. <- in love with forbidden love and secret relationships and 'we shouldnt be doing this' 'i know' *does it anyway*#I WAS TEARING MY HAIR OUT AT DOCTOR. LIKE I LIKE THE CONCEPT BUT WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO.. PUT HIM IN SCRUBS???#im not upset im just so entertained by how straight forward you were yet there are still so many implications in this ask #LIKE YOU WROTE FOUR WORDS AND TWO EMOJIS AND THATS ALL IT TOOK FOR ME TO DO A DOUBLE TAKE #now that i think abt it. i shouldve put him in a hot nurse outfit... //punches myself in the face #THATS WHY ANY FAMOUS/ROYAL/REPUTATION AU IS MY SHIT BC THEY HAVE TO HIDE THEIR RELATIONSHIP/EACHOTHER AGH FROTHS AT THE MOUTH #i love how the pirate noritoshi is a cool guy until he sees you and turns into a simp #CORPSE BRIDE WAS SO SELF INDULGENT. THAT MOVIE FUCKS SO HARD. THE USE OF 'DARLING' WAS BC EMILY USED IT IN THE MOVIE #IT HAD SO MANY YAN VIBES BUT FUCK. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A GREEN FLAG EMILY. I LOVE YOU #heh. the lace and mask are supposed to represent the bones and such. didnt mean to give him a phantom of the opera look.. though it fits...

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wilbursprincess · 3 months

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Vampirebur smut fic,,, He loves to mark territory with bites and suckers, In addition to the fact that he feeds lightly on his partner during sex, I have no proof but no doubt either

~🧭

“You’re On Your Period?”

Vampirebur x Female Reader

Warnings: Lots of mentions of blood, biting, temperature play (if you squint???), oral sex (F receiving), masturbation

Honestly, is this gross? Yes. Is this cliche? Yes. But do I love it? Yes. Good one, 🧭 anon. Good one.

Please please please skip this if you don’t like blood! It’s kind of off-putting unless you’re really into this stuff lol.

Fic below cut!

I sigh happily, nestling into my boyfriend’s side. True, dating a vampire was a little weird. It took time to get used to his pale, grey-tinged skin, and him never sleeping… and the biting. The biting was new, yet oh-so-welcome.

Wilbur sniffs, eyes widening. “Baby? Are you on your period?”

“The last time I checked, no,” I reply, snuggling closer to him. “Why?”

“I can smell blood,” he murmurs, rolling me off him and peering between my thighs. “Oh, fuck yes,” he whispers, rubbing his face against my clothed pussy. “You’ve bled all over your panties.”

I sit up, peering down to see he’s right. “Shit,” I groan, starting to get out of bed when he stops me. “What are you doing?”

“Please let me eat you out,” he says, red eyes pleading with me from between my legs. “Please, sweetheart. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“I mean, if you really want t-“

Before I can react, Wilbur whips off my panties, swirling his tongue around my clit, sucking on it lightly.

“So good,” he murmurs against me, fumbling to pull his pants and boxers off. I watch, practically open-mouthed, as he wraps my panties around his cock, stroking himself with them.

Ok, forget dating a vampire being a little weird. This has gotten much weirder. But why am I… enjoying this?

He’s never been this enthusiastic about eating me out, flicking his tongue and licking wherever he can reach. He pushes his tongue inside me, as far as he can reach, making me gasp and tug his hair.

My head’s going fuzzy from the pleasure radiating out, feeling Wilbur’s teeth sinking into my inner thighs and sucking marks alongside them. His hands are pale and cold, two fingers slipping inside me to add to the pleasure. The cold against the heat inside me is otherworldly, the mix of temperatures making me buck my hips up and try and ride his long, icy fingers.

The sight of my boyfriend’s face covered in blood isn’t even off putting anymore, ghostly pallor offset by the crimson dripping down his chin. Wilbur’s still getting himself off with my blood-soaked panties, his groans and soft moans making me throb.

He laps up the blood dripping down my thighs, both from his bites and my period, sighing in pleasure as he sinks his teeth in again. I look a bit like I’ve sat on a cheese grater, but there’s no way I want this to stop.

“You taste so good,” Wilbur says, voice muffled by my thighs. “I’ve never tasted blood like yours before.”

The combination of his tongue on my clit, fingers curled inside me, and watching him jerking off finally hits me, and I scream out his name, bucking my hips into his face as I hit my climax. Wilbur just takes it, softly licking me through my high.

I’m too exhausted from our activities to react as he stands up in front of me, spilling sticky white all over my stomach as he sighs in pleasure.

“I didn’t think you were into blood that much,” I murmur sleepily. “Can you throw me that towel?”

Wilbur shakes his head, wiping off my stomach with his discarded shirt and opting to clean up my bloody thighs with his tongue instead.

“How long do your periods last?” He asks between gentle licks.

“About a week,” I respond sleepily. “Why?”

“Can we do this for the next week, then?” I can’t help but smile at Wilbur’s excited face. “Please?”

#princesswrites #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #wilbur soot smut #bursona smut #wilbur smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #vampirebur #bursonas #bursona #mcyt x female reader #wilbur soot x female reader #🧭anon

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pursuitseternal · 4 months

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“Possessing:” jealous, possessive Astarion in a double smut update for “Our Blood is Thicker,” featuring a first-time flashback 💞

Astarion x Cordehlia (F!OC) | E | 8.7 K possessive and first time smut

Summary: the Shadow-Cursed lands resurrect more for Cordehlia than an old enemy— more memories and griefs that Astarion can’t recall. If only there was some way to show Astarion their past… memories that kindle the same possessive desires of the past and new professions of… love in the present.

CW: angst, longing, jealousy, possessive Astarion, Kind Uncle Vibes Halsin, arrogant young Astarion, first time hand job, first time fingering, teenage sneaking for sex, inappropriate tadpole use if you squint, absolute feral rutting once the memory is done.

Previous Chapter | AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 10: Possessing

🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️

Astarion could feel the rage building in his love, shuddering with tension off their leader. They all could. Waves of scarlet temper fluctuating as the Drow inside Moonrise Towers insisted on talking despite Cordehlia’s death stare… insisting on talking with Astarion. This Araj… as she introduced herself with the overconfidence of youth and privilege.

Cordehlia hated her already for both. And more.

Her companions held their breath, watching for those quick and deadly fingers of hers to reach for that shining dagger. And they all wanted to close their eyes the moment they heard the Drow, some expert in blood magic and potions, slather her attentions on The Spawn who pressed at Cordehlia’s side. “I’ve always dreamed of being bitten…”

“Uh oh,” Wyll bemoaned under his breath, taking the opportunity to grab at the she-elf’s elbow and whisper in her pointed ear while the Drow was busy making all her intentions known to Astarion. “Have care, for as much as you would like to run the monster throgh, it would not make things easy for us. Unless you wish to face Ketheric from the inside of a cell…”

“Or dead,” Gale added in her other ear.

Cordehlia gave a single, unwilling nod, rolling her shoulders and crossing her arms. Just as the expert in all things sanguine returned her dark eyes on the rest of them. “Can’t you talk some sense into your charge?”

Cordehlia’s fiery eyebrows raised slowly at that. “My charge?” she spoke between pressed lips. A wave of rebuke held back barely by their need to remain inconspicuous. “My vampire is his own being, he can choose who he bites, who he fucks, whom he loves, who he kills…”

“I’m sure he truly believes that,” the Drow laughed. Disparaging.

“Want a demonstration?” Cordehlia added quickly, a single corner of her mouth turning towards a smile.

“It’s alright, darling,” Astarion turned to meet her stare, caught somewhere between aroused and intimidated himself as it turned to lock those narrowed, hungry, enraged eyes on him.

“Oh, oh I see,” Araj gave a disparaging laugh. “You think he’s yours. All yours. I promise, I’ll leave your lover’s lower regions untouched, I only want a bite. In exchange, I’ll give you a potion so great, you’ll never find another like it in the realms…”

“I’ll thank you to never mention my lower regions again,” Astarion hissed.

“And he said no to you,” Cordehlia snapped, closing one step between her enemy and her beloved. “You can keep clear of us, Drow, of me, my companions, and my vampire. What need do we have of watered down power like blood potions when we have the blessing of the Absolute. I wonder why they keep you here at all.”

That made everyone behind her stiffen, every set of eyes scanning for enemies. Just in case.

But Araj laughed. “Fine, linger in your ignorance with your lover. Savor it while your bodies still haven’t burst into a mess of tentacles. See how romantic your nights of coupling are then… True Soul…”

Three sets of hands pressed against Cordehlia’s back then, but only one pulled her into his arm, tugging her along and back into the halls of Moonrise Towers. “Gods,” Astarion scolded her gently right into her ear as they paused on the outer walls of the tower, “your jealousy nearly got us all killed.”

Was he… angry?

She snapped her neck, turning to scowl right into his face. But that raging expression melted the moment she looked into his. He was so soft, so adoring, head tilted slightly as those crimson eyes widened and brushed over her face.

Until they rested on her lips, pursed tightly.

“That pleases you?” she managed to rasp as her tempers cooled.

“To hear you might just risk bringing the whole army of the Absolute down on us because some other female is pining for me to take a bite?” he smirked wickedly, completely possessive and naughty as his eyes looked to her neck. “And they say romance is dead, darling…”

Just as his palm cupped her cheek, tilting her face so close to his, her warm breath filled his undead lungs and coated his tongue with her taste… Gale cleared his throat.

Loudly. Distracting. Intentionally.

“Need I remind everyone that we stand literally on the precipice of the Absolute’s power? That Ketheric Thorm and his army are literally everywhere…”

“And all you two want to do is fuck,” Karlach burst in with a laugh. “I mean, it’s not a bad plan, it’s just not a plan to take down our enemies, soldier.”

Cordehlia rolled her eyes, gripping the back of his neck in her gauntleted hands. Unable to deny herself just a quick kiss, even at the heart of their enemy’s domain. “Fine,” she sighed. “We find the secret to bringing down this… General, but if anyone comes to try to take any of you from me,” she tapped a finger on Astarion’s perfect, aquiline nose, “especially you… they will find it very hard to think with a dagger buried in their skull.”

“Again, such poetry, such romance,” her vampire purred, his arms struggling to release her. Not that he wanted to either.

They made their way back inside the Tower, and thoughts swirled in Cordehlia’s head, the haze of memories beginning to pierce through that constant blanket of lust Astarion seemed to draw about her at all times.

“Right,” she huffed under her breath. “Let’s go find this imposter who calls himself the General….”

“Imposter?” a deep voice rumbled quietly as Halsin turned around. “How do you mean?”

Cordehlia stopped, the others continuing a few paces ahead. “Ketheric is dead, weren’t you there? Did you not fight in vain glory for his defeat alongside Harpers and Druids and Elves? Did you not see the countless souls sacrificed to put that monster in a tomb?”

“I did,” his pale green eyes scanned her face with all the wisdom and insight three-hundred years lends. “You speak as one who knows of such things yourself, young one.”

Cordehlia’s mouth shut tight. Locking her lips in silence, keeping whatever it was that simmered behind her silver eyes within her.

“I may have joined your band to help break this curse that darkens the land, but make no mistake,” he paused before turning to follow, “I will help do whatever is necessary. But to do so, I need to know more than I can read on your own wizened face.”

She shrugged, pushing past the enormous Druid to rejoin the others. “In good time, perhaps…”

But her words dried up the second she stood on the edge of the gathering in the throne room.

He was there. In flesh. Ancient, grey, undead flesh.

Ketheric Thorm, half-elf, great general, and dead no longer.

Cordehlia heard nothing as she watched with frozen horror the scene before her unblinking eyes. An ax, launched from the hand of some goblin about to be punished for their failure, sliced right into the General’s armor. His great, gauntleted hand pulled it free, as if it were no more than a dull knife in butter.

Immortal. Just as they all had said… back from the dead…

And as she tried to steel over her face and steady her nerves, she forced more of those shadows from her past deep down inside her. They would have to be ignored. For now.

It wasn’t until they were back on the shadow-cursed trails, sent to find the mysterious relic that granted the immortal Ketheric Thorm his power, that Cordehlia finally felt her tenuous hold on reality and on her past begin to slip.

It was a century ago… a lifetime ago, a time when she wandered between losing the love of her life and falling under the spell of bloodlust the Bone Picker loved. Before she found herself totally alone. Not-quite widowed, but decidedly orphaned.

And now, her feet traced the same paths and vaulting roots from dying trees he must have…

Her father.

She kept herself busy, hurrying at the front of the group as they moved headlong into the dark and cursed forest.

“We really should make camp,” Shadowheart commented, “there are many dangers ahead, and we wouldn’t wait to face those exhausted.”

“A wise idea,” Halsin affirmed. “We can get a new start with the dawn… or,” he grinned a bit sheepishly, looking at the lands cursed to eternal darkness, “…if not dawn, at least when we are all rested.”

A few laughs sounded from the group as they headed for safer ground. But not Astarion. And not Cordehlia. She gave that smile that didn’t meet her eyes, holding her shoulders slumped down as if she carried that massive, invisible weight. He could almost feel it himself, just by looking at her. Slowly, he drew nearer, falling within earshot. Within arms reach, should she need him.

But she kept her attention on the Druid, locked in as they headed up the path. “Halsin…” she added, voice shaking just a bit, “you… fought to bring Ketheric down… the first time I mean?”

“Giving up your claim of being an imposter?” the Druid teased, instantly regretting the jovial tone as he saw the lines of her face. As he read her pain. “What troubles you?”

Cordehlia glanced beside her, face easing to find Astarion at her side. First in her heart. Always at her side. “These… ruined battlefields, where so many lives were lost, you’ve been here, Halsin. Tell me, did you fight beside the elven hosts?”

Halsin stopped short. That weight in her voice flooded with knowledge. He froze, nearly mid-step. “I thought you looked familiar…” he commented, almost to himself, eyes scanning the she-elf.

“Why?” Astarion interjected, curious if not a tad bit defensive at the familiarity.

“Of course, Star Elf, red hair that shock of brightness. A temper to defy the gods. You’re the daughter of General Aquilae, aren’t you? You’re just as ferocious in battle, just as passionate and hot-tempered.” The Druid tilted his head, starting to walk again. “I am… sorry for your loss. Sorry his sacrifice must feel like it's in vain with Ketheric back from the dead…”

“Don’t assume to know how I feel,” Cordehlia snapped, chin jutting up, barely meeting the large male’s chest-height. But fierce in demeanor. “Sorry,” she relinquished, that defiance instantly retreating back inside her carefully crafted shell.

“Quite alright. You’re in pain, grieving. But even grief heals, all things heal. Nature will heal, as hearts will too,” Halsin grinned gently, “but it takes time and… many ways of seeking solace…”

Astarion couldn’t fight the way his eyes tweaked in suspicion, hackles raising at the informality. As long as it was his tent that her solace was sought for…

“Aquilae…” Astarion let the name roll off his tongue. Something inside his mind thawing, something creeping into the light. “Is that… your name?”

What normally would have made a tender smile come to her full, pink lips made them scowl instead. “For once… for once, it would be a boon to have you either remember your past, or not ask such obvious questions.” She bit at every word. Her shoulders squared at him, armored and taught.

Those crimson eyes narrowed at her, his mouth hardened into a flat line. An exterior of equal adamant to resist her anger. And to hide his hurt.

“Well, darling,” he shook his head quickly, derisively. “I apologize for my shortcomings,” his gaze darted to the Druid who still lumbered beside her. “And I’ll leave you two to… reminisce correctly, then.” The vampire pushed his way between them, heading for the bustling group as they hurriedly and anxious made a small camp, setting magic wards and torches against the Shadows.

Cordehlia’s heart sank, her stomach knotted, making her want to puke right there and then on cursed grounds, watching him stride from her so quickly.

That exterior of injured pride, that mask of indifference hiding his own pain. Pain she caused. Pain flowed from her own.

Halsin cleared his throat softly. “He means a great deal to you, the Elf. The others gossip about your past constantly. Your Wizard, in particular, seems rather… put out that Astarion has meant so much to you,” the Druid sat himself down on a log, the wood creaking beneath his sheer mass.

But Cordehlia was too uncomfortable to do anything more than sway in place as her eyes darted between her Druid and the rest of her party. Not as if she were watching for every pissed-off dart of her silver-haired vampire in the mix.

“I… believe I know your history, or at least as much of it as the rest do…”

She scoffed, fingers beginning to unbuckle her armor methodically, absentmindedly. “More than he probably recalls,” she huffed under her breath. “If only… things were easier. Not just the tadpole and the Absolute… but with him.”

“Nature does not have regrets, young elf, only growth,” he smiled slightly, his scarred face turning with that wise happiness. “Besides, for as much as you resemble your father, the General…”

“He still seems like the pampered, arrogant, devastatingly handsome son of our High Lord and Lady?” she sniffed, suddenly feeling the warm pull of those years, however ancient they may be.

“I suspected as much. Your father only ever spoke to us briefly, to the point, not unlike his formidable daughter when she feels the need…”

That made Cordehlia grin softly once more.

“He had said once, on the eve of battle, he regretted risking his daughter to lose another… that you had already lost so much of your heart, an engagement to the next High Lord ending in tragedy.”

Halsin paused, turning to follow her own sharp, unerring gaze into the mess of companions. Watching as her eyes followed her lover through the crowd, her whole being growing heavier with grief each second that passed.

He let her breathe in silence a moment, waiting for her to speak. At last, something seemed to ease within her. “He was my everything, Halsin. My childhood playmate, my first kiss, my… first of many things…” Her voice was steady, aching with grief and joy mixed into one weighty tone. “He defied his parents to ask for my hand, well… his weakness for planning ahead worked that once, for as much… shame as it could have brought on us both. But I didn’t care. I had him.”

“The son of the High Lord and the daughter of the General must not have been such a match to frown upon,” Halsin sounded.. wistful. Cordehlia wasn’t sure. But she turned to look anyway. “At least now, for whatever darkness you both have endured, you share in one another’s burdens. But you can’t fault him for how he has… survived his pain by pushing down his memories. They will return, in time, as all things…”

“In nature heal,” Cordehlia finished with a laugh. “You’re rather predictable, Druid.”

“Three-hundred and fifty years, and you learn the value of consistency, young one,” he laughed, standing from the log. “Now, we better return before your vampire’s jealousy turns its hungry attention on me as a threat.”

Cordelia gathered the plates of her armor she had removed, walking them towards camp. And then she paused. Cursing.

Of course… as it had been of late, since that night in the Emerald Grove, all her things were in… his tent. Her stomach sank. She… wasn’t ready to face him yet. Wasn’t ready for his chilled anger or his glare of simmering rage, or his little frown of hurt.

But she swallowed her dread and headed towards that stretched structure of red and rose fabric.

It was already so dark, just the flickers of torchlight dancing to show her the way. Pausing, her hand hesitated before it pulled back the flap so she could enter. Cordehlia swallowed, why was she so nervous, he night not even be inside. Might be out hunting… or helping… or…

Before any other thought could make her hesitate longer, a pale hand shot out at her from within, wrapping its cold, undead touch around her wrist, and dragged her inside his darkened domain.

His tent was blacker than pitch. Even for her elf-eyes, it took her a moment to adjust her sights. But she could feel him around her, grabbing her from behind, hand around her chin, arm clutched around her waist, as he pulled her within.

“I didn’t think you’d come, darling…” his voice chilled her marrow, all the jealousy she had imagined inside him biting his words. “Thought you’d be too busy strolling down memory lane with someone who could walk with you…” his lips pushed against the edge of her ear, nipping it with his fangs, “just as you’ve always wanted…”

“You know what I want…” she murmured, arching against the confines of his body.

“Hmmm,” he taunted, and she could feel his breath trailing down her neck. “I thought I did… I’m surprised that you’re here, not indulging in some time with your warm-blooded companion who knows you… and most likely wants to… know you.” His mouth sucked on her ear, “carnally, to be clear.”

“Tch, tch,” she forced her body to twist in his hold, landing the point of her elbow in his gut to make his grip ease. Savoring the little grunted “oof” he made. “Don’t think so low of yourself, my love,” she breathed, scanning the way his face twitched between suspicion and arousal. “As if I could take anyone else, now that I have you back with me at last…”

She meant it, every word. Those eyes soft with sincerity, those lips already slightly puckered to invite him closer.

But he still had too much jealousy gripping his undead heart, too much ice flowing in his veins yet. “You’d rather have someone remember, I know, someone who knew your name, your father, someone who recognizes the family resemblance of your temper to match your hair… someone who can match the… intimacy you seek with your memories in the same way they might with your delicious body.” He pouted, those full lips of his frowning in taunting disapproval. “If only there was some way for us to share thoughts and memories, mind to mind…” he turned to give her the full power of his gaze then, and it made her lose her breath with his beauty, his intensity. That rakish cant of his brows and the haze of hunger in his eyes.

Her brows raised slowly, her smile spreading. “What are you suggesting, Astarion?”

He let his fangs show, his hands gripped into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Show me, show me everything. Use the parasite, link your mind to mine, for I’ll be damned if anyone…” he growled with a snap of his jaw, “anyone lays a claim to you more than me.”

“Why, Master Ancunìn,” she smirked, running the pads of her fingers down that sharp cut of his jaw, “jealousy does rather become you.”

He stiffened beneath his touch, the muscles of his jaw tweaking as he clenched.

“You’re… not just jealous, are you?”

His eyes cast to the side. Just enough hint of remorse, of regret and longing softened his face.

“I… can’t explain it,” he whispered, almost sounding frightened to let the words out. “All I have known for so long is to manipulate, to do as I was commanded, to use my body and bury my mind, my feelings so far down, I… forgot what it was to think or feel for myself.”

His hands began to wander, to stroke her smooth skin and taught muscles beneath her shirt.

“And then, I found you, or rather, you found me. You forced me to confront those parts of me I neglected in order to survive. You made me rediscover what it meant to want a person…to want anything for myself. Like how you almost tore the throat of that vile Drow today, just for assuming you could compel me to bite her fetid flesh.”

He breathed, that jealousy still crept close by, his fingers insistent on her flesh, even with all the vulnerability that flooded his voice.

“I… should say thank you, my darling, but I would rather show you my gratitude. Rather stand at your side as equals, knowing everything that makes you… you.”

“That makes us… us,” she added, a smile soft on her lips. Her hand held his, pulling him down along with her, sitting on the mess of his blankets and pillows he called a bed. Before he could even settle completely, she crawled in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, cradling his cheek in her palm. His eyes bore into hers, the intensity, the possessiveness, the curiosity burning bright in the deep red of his eyes. “What would you wish to see?” she asked softly.

“Show me your father, show me you… show me our first moments, our sweetest moments, our most sensual, our most painful,” he rasped, brows furrowed with his ardor. “I want to recall… everything…”

She paused for a breath, eyes closing as if she searched those memories. Finally, her silver eyes opened, her gaze was languid, distant, and desirous. “Open yourself to me,” she whispered so close to his own parted lips.

A single brow arched in humor, “That's my line, darling…”

Before she could tease him or roll her eyes, their minds smashed into one another, their tadpoles humming as the world around them instantly disappeared….

———

“What do you have to say for yourself, lordling?” General Aquilae stared at him with those piercing dark eyes. Sharp like the eagle, the bird of prey after which he was named. “Son of the High Lord, caught watching our daughter bathing, you know there will be repercussions even your parents can’t pull enough strings to free you from…” The warrior’s voice rumbled like thunder, towering over where the young elf male stood in his study.

But Astarion gave no ground, arms crossed over the pale green of his tunic, the golden threads of its intricate embroidery catching the firelight as night began to fall. His sharp features smiled slightly, his deep violet eyes dancing as he watched the warrior pacing back and forth, that silver shock of hair barely tamed, same as he was as a youth, barely more tamed than the willful elfing that ran about with his daughter.

And now… now they would be inseparable. They had to be.

“You know what you have done has sealed Cordehlia’s fate as much as your own, little lord?” the general added. His voice sharp, direct.

“I would hope so, Commander,” Astarion purred in reply, “I thought my affections for your daughter were on… full display this afternoon.”

General Aquilae pressed his thick fingers into his temples, rubbing them as if to ease a headache. “You know, Astarion, most young males court their intendeds with letters or poems or art or song… not their cock in their hand as they watch them bathing.”

Astarion shrugged, coolly and casually. “I have never been like most young males, Commander. You have always known that, as loyal friend of my parents, their faithful General…”

“You can leave your parents out of this, boy,” the general straightened. “What will you do to make this right by Cordehlia? Leave her to the shame you’ve inflicted? To the gossip and the ostracization of her peers?”

“I intend to make her mine, General,” he replied. Steadily, those hard, smirking lines of his face easing as his smile dropped.

The commander turned to round one more time across his study, his boots falling harshly against the wooden planks of the floor. Until he drew up short. “It’s close, but you need to be clear, Ancunìn. You’ll make her your what? Mistress, whore…”

“Bride.”

It was a simple word. Uttered so clearly, so matter-of-factly, all ears that heard it frozen.

Her father. And Cordehlia. The sneaky she-elf who peered through the smallest chink in the wall, who held her breath to hear two men discussing her future. But at that word, her heart soared, scared, excited, terrified and… something else she didn’t know. Something that stabbed her like a hot poker in the gut and flooded her abdomen with heat. She could see Astarion’s face perfectly from here; he looked so regal, so confident. So happy. Especially at making her father draw up short and stop, at a loss for words.

“Well, General?” Astarion grinned, smiling so self-assured, so cocky, “do you need me to repeat, sir?”

“No,” the older elf cleared his throat loudly and repeatedly. “Thank you.”

Astarion bowed his silver-tousled head. “If that is set arights, then perhaps I can break the happy news to my intended myself?”

“Firstly,” General Aquilae raised a single thick digit at the boy, “I will set you straight on this point, lordling. You are both far too young by the rights of our people to marry. Prepare yourselves for a long engagement, one where you had better show her nothing but the respect and devotion befitting a female of our status…” he narrowed his large silver eyes down at the boy, “even if it is still beneath your own, Master Acunìn.”

Astarion flashed a bright smile, a deferential bow of his head and shoulders, hand placed graciously over his heart. “On my honor,” he crooned, magnanimous in tone. Just like his parents. “The lady and I will wait for years, for decades, if that is your sage guidance.”

“Not decades, no,” he sniffed in rejoinder. “Don’t be so grandiose, boy. Five years hence at most until you may wed, unless any unexpected, little… surprises… come up in the meantime…”

Violet eyes wide, Astarion remained still at the implication. He swallowed hard, much to her father’s satisfaction. “Yes, General,” he murmured in reply. The meaning was clear enough.

General Aquilae almost laughed at the submission, the immediate effect of discomfort that smacked the boy across his pristine, handsome, and youthful face. It would be enough to scare the boy into caution for the time being. And that would be enough for now. “Allow me to fetch your intended, then.” He crossed towards the door, but paused when the boy gave that signature boisterous giggle.

“No need,” he giggled again. “Cordehlia already has her ear pressed to the wall, eyes peering through keyholes, I shouldn’t wonder…”

That violet, glinting gaze looked right at her… where she had one eye locked through the crack in the wall. A smile dancing on his thick, parted lips.

Quickly, she moved and held her breath, flouncing her gown and making her way as if she were simply strolling by the study door, a little book in hand as if she were lost in reading. Her father threw open the dark wooden door. “Daughter,” he ordered. No other words needed. His lined brow furrowed to see her, in fact, so close to his study.

“Yes, Father?” she lilted, tucking the book neatly against her chest as she folded her arms. “Is… is there something the matter?”

“I’ll let you find out for yourself,” he replied, walking out the door, “but no, nothing the matter.” His rough hand caught his daughter’s fingers from her book, giving them a tender squeeze before he left them to it.

Her heart raced, slowly turning to face that smirking youth in her father’s study. The one who went toe to toe with her father, and lived to tell the tale.

“Astarion,” she beamed, open and exuberant to see him against her better judgment to be coy. “It is late, you know.”

“No better time for a man to call upon his beloved, his intended…” he grinned, all feline and subtle, striding to shut the door behind her. “I don’t need to regale you with all the negotiations do I? You were listening ever so intently from your little hiding spot, weren’t you?”

“Of course,” she smiled, taking a few steps away from where he felt so close to her. Crossing, she sat on the little couch near the fire. And she regretted it the instant he sat immediately beside her. “I… I suppose I should thank…”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Tch,” he sucked his teeth, a habit of his when teasing her lately, “I told you I would get what I wanted, Cordehlia.”

“And, what was that?” she forced her face into a blank, innocent expression. Wide-eyed and pouting, hiding the laughter that bubbled inside.

“You,” he slowly seemed to lean in. “Despite my parents’ plans for a marriage alliance… despite your father’s hesitations…” his eyes cast down the front of her down, scanning the intricate weave of laces and ribbons that held her in, even as her chest heaved with panting and her bosoms threatened to spill out the top. “Despite even your own thoughts of self-inadequacy…”

“Oh, I do not doubt my own measure, Astarion,” she chided in reply, “I doubt that I will be enough to satisfy you and your… ambitions.”

“Wanting great things out of life means nothing if I can’t share it with you, my…” he whispered, that edge of pretend leaving his silken voice. A single finger pressed under her chin, feeling her throat swallowing and her jaw bobbing as she nervously met his gaze. “Hmmm, what shall I call you now?” he grinned. “My friend seems too unromantic. My intended, my betrothed… those seem so cumbersome.”

“Something simple, sweet and flirtatious,” she smiled, leaning into the heat of his touch, more of his fingers beginning to sweep over her cheek. “Nothing too saccharine… just a little something… darling…”

“Oh,” he gave that secretive half smile of his, “aren’t you just darling? So sweet and yet deceptively strong… that hint of irony behind it.. yes. Yes, it’ll do nicely, darling…”

Her eyes darted away, feeling so hot, cheeks flushed and burning, his hand still holding her face. But that heat swirled in her gut, her mind still reeling over the events of that day, and while her skin was clean from bathing, her mind had turned to only images and questions that were so, very dirty. “So…” she paused, feeling his face drawing nearer, his breath washing over her. “What was it you were caught doing exactly?”

Astarion’s eyes flashed, wide and dilating as he stared at that impertinent grin. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean… I wish to know… what… you were doing while you watched me,” her voice grew quieter, deeper in her throat the more she spoke.

“I was… pleasuring myself,” he managed to say, watching her cheeks growing pinker and pinker.

“Show me,” she whispered. Her chin jutted out in that over-confident way of hers.

Astarion cocked his head, a single corner of his lip curving slightly. “What?” he drolled.

“Show me… what you were doing…” she whispered, eyeing the door shut beside them, pure mischief in her silver eyes. “Show me, please…”

“I do so like it when you ask so sweetly,” he raised his brow, grinning widely as he leaned towards her breathtaking face. “So refined and smoothed over your edges, and yet…” His fingers pressed on her chin, tilting her upwards and drawing her close to his lips, “I still see that willful, feral playmate of mine who never once treated me like the son of the High Lord…”

“Quit your stalling, Acunìn,” she snapped, smiling all the while. Her body was pulsing, hotter than the fire before them should have made her. Her skin grew tighter the more he touched her.

“I can show you,” he whispered, smirking as his eyes darted towards the door. “But I’ll not do it in your father’s domain. Not when I’ve just garnered his dissenting approval.”

Her breath grew heavy, her dress suddenly too tight. “Where… when…?”

“It’s your home, darling. Can’t you think of someplace quiet… someplace intimate…”

“The gardens,” she couldn’t reply quickly enough. “I can slip from my terrace, if you meet me.”

“Then I shall be there,” his voice was thick, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. It made her stomach knotted and fluttery. Made her skin burning and her blood pounding. Whatever it was she was about to learn, she could barely wait the few moments it would be to sneak away.

Then he kissed her, more than just the little pecks as children. More than the courtly press of his mouth on her gentle fingers. He spared her nothing, for she knew full well already the twist of his tongue around her own, the sucking of his lips and the clack of his teeth against hers. But this kiss, this devoured her. Sucked her breath and filled her tastebuds with him alone. Until she forgot to so much as breathe.

A loud footstep outside the door made them suddenly draw apart, the turn of the handle making Astarion shoot right up from the couch to stand coolly at the mantle, a chilled, contented smile on his lips as her father returned.

As if those lips weren’t just consuming his daughter.

“It’s late, Master Acunìn,” the General commented, always direct, always commanding.

“Yes, well, there will be many years ahead of us for goodnight and goodbyes, isn’t that right, my darling?” the young elf nodded his head to his future bride. Who, very wisely, kept her flushing face away from the sight of her father.

“Yes, Astarion,” she replied, all joy and music in those two words. “Goodnight to you both,” she stood to dip a curtsy. “I am ever so pleased with our arrangement,” she added, smiling as she made her way from the room.

“As am I,” Astarion replied, locking eyes with the General. “Goodnight, my future bride and father. I can see myself out.”

“So long as you don’t see yourself back in, boy,” her father laughed under his breath. A cold sort of laugh, wisened by experience past the machinations of youth. “You have years for that. The blink of an eye for our kind.”

Astarion nodded his head, eyes still fixed on his exit. Careful not to give away the racing of his heart in anticipation. Gratified that his instincts were sharper than the General, the aging elf whose eyes he could feel until the moment he shut the door to their home behind him.

It would be an easy deception, to head down the path towards the road and double back to the little garden. The moon was bright, and the stars even brighter. Hanging arbors of bright purple and rosy blooms covered the walls and trellises.

She had chosen well, a secluded spot, hidden and muffled. He watched her room, a little cutaway on the ground floor, as he had before. Her shadow moving in the light, the flicker of candles gutting out as he heard the door to her terrace open.

He peered out from behind the arbor, her eyes instantly setting on him, her mouth parting in a smile. Hoisting her skirt, she ran over the little tiled terrace, scrambling, almost vaulting over the balustrade to land in his arms.

“I can’t believe you did that, Astarion,” she panted, instantly pressing her lips against his. “You’re so much trouble…”

“Yes,” he breathed in between her moving lips, “but aren’t I just worth it?”

“Show me what you were doing and we will see,” she growled into his mouth, his hands already skating over the silks of her gown, pawing beneath the edges of her robe. His fingers traced down her arm, weaving into her hand. Pulling her, they reached the little bench, nestled among the hanging vines of sleeping flowers. All was quiet and shadow. The air was cool against their burning skin, the stone of the bench even colder as they slammed into it, tumbling down to sit side by side. Pressed so tightly together, her leg draped between his. His arms pulled tightly around her waist.

“First day giving me your word you’ll be mine,” he panted, “and already all you want to know is how to pleasure me?”

“Well,” she shoved him away, hand planted firmly on his chest. “I already know how to tease you, to best you, to anger you and calm you…” she tilted her head with a sultry, knowing smile. “I’m sure there is much I have yet to learn… and I am eager for you to teach me.”

“You’ve come a long way from flinging mud in my face and threatening to tattle on my father, darling,” his words tickled her cheek as he hovered over her ear. “If you wish to learn, this lesson will be completely… hands on.”

“Save your wit, Astarion,” she hissed, a smile on her face, her hands already straying over the soft fabric of his tunic. “Need I remind you, after today, you had the advantage of knowing the sight of me… all of me. I have yet to have the same pleasure.”

“All in good time, after all…” he pulled away to stare into her eager eyes, so bright as they caught the starlight, “we have years ahead of us now.”

His hand covered hers, sliding it lower, letting her fingers brush over his belly that clenched as he struggled for air. Astarion said nothing, just giving her that half a smile that made her blush. His eyes watched her face blanch as he moved her hand even lower, to press it against where he was hard yet again that day. Slowly, he moved her fingers up and down it, her mouth hanging open slightly to feel its length from where it met his pelvis to the tip that pressed somewhere down the leg of his breeches.

She swallowed hard. Her breath was harsher than ever. Than even after sprinting.

“Well,” he finally purred as he kept their hands working over him slowly. “I only saw the parts of you that glittered in the water above its surface, and I have never been more jealous of some dewy drops on your skin before.”

Cordehlia smirked, beginning to move her hand more freely, fingers tracing the rounded edges of whatever it was beneath. “Now poetry? I prefer you razor wit…”

“How about nothing more than the sounds we make all on our own?” he breathed, his hands pulling the laces from his breeches free. She felt it shift as the fabric released. That hard thing twitching as he reached inside. She couldn’t look away, the sight of him making her mouth water.

And her body even hotter than she had ever been in his presence, in his arms before.

She shut her jaw, clenching it as she watched his hand wrap around its width, watched as it jerked and twitched as he beat over it back and forth. “It’s not like you to hesitate or to balk when something is… hard.”

One hand shoved his shoulder, the other wrapped to join his grip around that… thing. She exhaled as she squeezed, the skin so smooth, the whole shaft so hot and pulsing with the beat of his heart. And so hard as he had joked. Rigid and silken, hard and smooth. Her touch straying towards its tip, she saw it dripping, little white, almost clear drops as she touched it. She swept it in her fingers, tacky and slick over that fleshy tip.

He groaned as she did so, and instantly she pulled away. “Sorry,” she hissed, her cheeks growing even redder in shame to hurt him.

“No,” he panted, grabbing her hand back to encircle that tip again. “The opposite, it felt amazing, the way you touch my cock…”

“Oh,” she smiled, reapplying the same sort of stroke over that little slit, feeling it seeping again as she touched him. “So…” she tilted her head, meeting those dilated, violet eyes, “…you like this?”

“Mmm, very much, even better than when I touch myself and think of you. The real thing is so much better,” he groaned again as she stroked harder, faster, like he had before. Head thrown back, he closed his eyes, savoring that no-longer-timid touch.

“What happens next?” she asked, somehow breathless herself.

“The best part,” he replied through clenching teeth. “Whatever you do, don’t dare stop…” he was growling, his hips raising as she kept that beat. He rocked on the stone bench, hands gripping into the edge. She watched as he contorted, seeming to be in agony, that cock in her hand growing harder and hotter, but she didn’t dare stop. Like he asked.

She felt it shudder in her fingers, his body clenching as he groaned. Collapsing forward, he kept shaking as noise after pained and panting noise came from his mouth. More of that sticky white drips shot from him, and Cordehlia held her breath, so certain she had hurt him.

A fear that was dispelled the moment she looked at his face now. His slack-mouthed smile, his eyes wide and glowing in the moonlight, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against him. Lashing his mouth to hers, he muttered such sweet things into her lips. “That was…” he paused to breathe, “amazing. You were perfect. Better than I had dreamed…”

“It looked painful,” she replied, breaking away with a push on his chest again. Turning her head, she looked where the stones of the terrace were discolored and wet, where his cock still dripped a little more of that gleaming whiteness. “And you call that pleasuring yourself?”

“I assure you, he grinned, brows raising, lips quirking, “it is quite the opposite of painful.”

“Hmm,” she hemmed, skeptical as she turned to look back into that face.

“You look like you need some.. convincing…”

His hands wrapped around her waist, slowly starting to gather up the thin silks that covered her perfect, pale skin.

“I think I can show you, if you let me,” he crooned, mouth smiling wider.

“You’re going to teach me how to… pleasure myself?” Oh, she was so haughty, so confident and daring. Even when she was wrong, it was stimulating.

“Really?” She kept that hand firmly on his chest, even as her body gave her away, her hips sliding slightly closer as his hands pulled her skirts to her knees. “I take it this knowledge was not garnered from first… hand… experience…” she tested him.

“No, no,” he shook his head, smiling with reassurance, “I read it in a book, a most fascinating book…”

“So fascinating that it made you pursue release in… pleasuring yourself after?”

“Seems like you know more than an elegant, righteous she-elf should…” he touched her skin then, sliding two fingers higher from her knee. “You weren’t watching me, were you?” he taunted, fingers tracing back down only to dare higher beneath her skirts.

“No, that seemed to be your duty, my darling,” she laughed as she spoke, low and slick. Her breath came heavier. Her skin flamed hotter the higher he touched.

Then, she looked right into his eyes, all that taunting evaporated, her smile softened, her eyes wide and pleading as she could do nothing more than breathe and lean back even more.

And he kept touching, awed by that look of trust and… love. And then, he slunk those fingers beneath the thin line of her undergarments.

She was… wet. Hot. Those folds he had read about, observed in drawings… it was so much better now. But he needed more.

His other hand gripped her knee, pulling those strong legs of hers apart. A gasp tore from her throat as she let him. Her fingers clutched at the back of his head, locked into his hair as if she was about to collapse.

And then, his touch slid inside. Her eyes shot wide, her face contorting like his had, now she knew why.

He slid those fingertips back and forth, dragging that hot slick more and more through that seam. At last, he circled through that point at the apex, drawing his touch over that hard little spot. Just as he had read. But the way it made her clench and groan was even… more magnificent.

Her cheeks were so pink, her forehead beading with sweat. “What… is that…” she managed to speak, breathless and deep in her throat.

“Give me you hand, sweet Cordehlia, and you can tend to your own needs when I can’t be with you in the shadows.”

She obeyed, keeping that one grip tight around his neck. But the other slipped in to join his so quickly. Pushing harder, sweeping faster, his fingers tried to keep up with the way she was… touching herself.

“Gods,” he groaned, “how does it feel?”

“I… can’t…” she panted, eyes shutting hard as she groaned.

So he slid his fingers in deeper in… in her quivering walls.

“Ah!” she mewled, forgetting they were still in danger, forgetting anyone could hear them.

But Astarion didn’t care, not when she clenched hard and tight around his fingers, not when his cock was pulsing again, aching for another round of his own release.

She shook so hard, she almost pulled him down, her arm releasing instead to hold herself up. Her eyes looked at his body again, settling on where his cock still stood hard and twitching in his lap. “I want to watch you… watch you touch yourself while I…”

“Yes,” he growled, hand slipping from her skirts, rubbing that slick that coated his whole hand over himself. “Gods, Cordehlia,” he couldn’t keep his eyes open, not needing much more than a few more pumps on his cock to set him nearly off again. One last glance of her face wracked with ecstacy, the sound of her orgasm as she beat her own fingers into that hot slick he could smell… it was enough.

It was more than enough.

He watched as she bit her lips and screamed through them, hearing that wet squelch of her fingers beneath her skirt grow somehow wetter sounding.

She was divine. Worthy. Beyond compare. Worth all the wagging tongues of the nobles and disapproving scowls of his parents to make her his.

His.

And with that, he groaned and came again. Harder and more intensely than ever before. Spurting streams of his cum covered the tiles and dripped from his hand.

He looked at her then, her eyes glazed with lust, with sated desire and yet burning up for more.

He was hers as much as she was his…

And he would never be the same.

————

She released his mind. His mouth hung open, his breath ragged.

His heart warmed over, despite being dead, all fluttering and hot. Maybe a fragment of his soul returned to him, he wasn’t sure. The way her silver eyes beat open, that ember of desire in them from the memory of so long ago… it made him realize just how achingly hard he had become.

More than her blood in his stomach, more than the sight of her bathing… it was an ache in his groin and his chest that only one thing could satisfy.

And he could smell the same need between her legs, could hear it in the way her heart raced and rapped in her chest.

Swift and sure, her hands clutched into his shirt, grabbing him hard and pulling him. To make him climb on her body, to cover herself in the only remedy to quell her burning. She pushed his clothes off his skin, his voice reduced to a growl in his throat. Those eager, dexterous fingers ripped his own clothes off, relieved only once he was freed. Once they both were freed, nothing but their skin and desire to share.

“I was your first,” he rasped, crushing her with his body, consuming her with his mouth. “The first to know you, to touch you…”

“To taste me and pleasure me and have me…” she purred, “and I you.”

“And none shall have you like I have… like I do…” Astarion groaned, slipping his fingers into her, just as he had perhaps a million times before. Her arousal was so hot and plentiful, all resistance was gone.

As if her body was made for him. The same way a key can slip so perfectly into its lock.

After those memories, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were so. “You enjoyed learning from me,” he grunted into her mouth, the visions of their memories still flaring in his head. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighed back. Her hips bucking hard, riding each crooking touch he made deep inside her.

“Your little shakes of excitement, your wide, innocent eyes and pink little lips wet for me…”

“Yes,” she sighed again, arching and clinging hard around his neck.

“Your lips, your breasts, your honey-dripping cunt… Gods, I want to fuck them all, make every inch of you mine, make them swollen and marked by my bite…” he looked down at her then, teeth glinting as he gave a wide-mouthed grin. “Not the Druid, not the Wizard, not a single one that looks at you would doubt you are mine…”

“Astarion, I’ve been yours,” Cordehlia said, hands gripping hard as she shuddered, feeling her own juices beginning to gush around his fingers, his thumb commanding her with all the dexterity he plied, all the knowledge of her body he now recalled from centuries.

He crooked his fingers even harder through her orgasm, working and fighting against every time she bore down in ecstacy. Panting, she softened around him, beneath him. Yielding to every part of him, body and soul. “Your turn,” she rasped, face nestled against his shoulder. Her hand gripped around his cock, slick already from the drips that already leaked from its tip.

Hips bucking into her fist, his lips peeled back to bare his teeth. “May I?”

“Bite me a dozen times so everyone sees your markings? Yes,” she snickered, rubbing over his shaft just a little faster until he groaned. From her touch or her words, she wasn’t sure. But she loved it either way.

The base of her neck, the throbbing of her jugular, the crest of her collarbone… one after another he nipped and drank. Each bite making her fist clench so tightly around his cock, he had no choice but to let his body rut into her grip. His tongue lapped all over her own ivory skin, her crimson blood thick in his throat as she pleasured him.

That age-old touch that commanded him, pleasuring him as only she could. Thousands of forced lovers over hundreds of years, and for once, he reclaimed that feeling of intimacy, that near-first-time thrill he thought long dead. Making love to one he wanted. One he…

“I love you,” he whispered between her blood-dripping breasts.

“I have always loved you,” the reply couldn’t leave her lips fast enough. Her fingers gripping into the locks behind his pointed ears, pulling his dripping copper-tanged mouth to hers. Furious. Crazed. Matching that possessiveness stroke for stroke with her tongue, nip for nip with her teeth on his lips. Her hand dragged through the pooling blood on her body, running that warm, thick liquid over his cock.

Making him shudder as she ran her touch up and down it again. He groaned with that hot slick gliding over his length. The scent of her blood was too delicious to resist. “As fun as it was to cum all over you when we were young, I’d much rather be invited inside, my love.” He tried to sweeten his voice, but that play on his cock already had him undone.

She only chuckled, guiding him inside her so quickly, he barely could tell what was her fist and what was her folds until her thighs clenched tight around his waist, her hips bucking hard against his own. Riding him with every little bit of passion she had stored inside for him alone.

Possessing her for centuries. Making certain he never forgot now that he was hers to possess as well.

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jahiera · 7 months

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listen it's very. even when playing gale's romance I am guaranteed several solid cutscenes of Astarion talking about his life, his perceptions of things, his ideas; the bite scene, the after that, the talking about your companions blood, the proposition, all the little conversations about being a vampire + how to become a vampire + what life was like that have several dialogue options. whereas these same "stock" conversations with the other companions tend to have ONE, maybe two dialogues with choices following if that much (for example, with Karlach it tends to be 1. ask question 2. she answers and it ends). there's a solid foundation of pacing and work put into astarion's storyline that even without his romance, his presence WILL be felt unless you just straight up never speak to him. which is to say, that THAT writing is really good! but if they couldn't uphold that same standard of effort and time across the board and ensure all the companions have some measure of equality, theeeeeen... something shouldve been done there to make sure it was at least somewhat equal. it also sucks that gale/wyll/lae'zel/shadowheart were all received ""poorly"" in contrast to astarion during EA (or received harsher critique anyways). I still believe there was a lot of solid character work and richness to their EA personalities that I dont know totally carried over in rewrites--decreasing the amount of conflict, lessening the "flaws" of these characters--contrary to what larian says about staying true to their core ideas in some places. so it sucks that you can see how with that effort and focus, astarion's storyline really is really well done for the kind of game that it is, and no one is saying bg3 is wanting for stuff to do, but there is a clear gap in effort and time put into the other companions when they absolutely deserved just as much time and effort as astarion, and the thing is. the writer confirmed it! confirmed that more time was put into him. like cmon man

#it's just not funnyyyyy #it's extremely disappointing just in terms of Designing The Narrative that several companions got the shaft #Now of course there are lots of compounding factors here; budget; time; voice-acting and mocap; etc. all costs I Know #but it still doesn't negate that it was confirmed that at least there was a focus on him that wasnt quite there #with the others #baudelaire welch was the senior narrative designer iirc and I know crutch sucks but like. cmon #you had a job there to ensure there was some measure of equality across the cast #and this isn't even getting into halsin who I'm pretty sure was written in an afternoon with no overview of #what was being put out #ANYHOW. I love the game love the cast love the characters. I will fix the pacing. in my brain #critical /

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 6 months

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Nightfall (3)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: Bickering, spanking, biting, consumption of blood, oral (M receiving), implication of dark themes (such as the buying/selling of humans for blood), reader goes undercover as Billy's 'pet'.

A/N: Overall, the themes are a little darker than I tend to write. I'll try my best to be as honest as possible with the warnings.

You shove him back, hand wrapping around his throat as if you could ever conceive of doing any real damage to him. His expression is blank, eyes pinned calmly on you.

"You filthy fucking bloodsucker." You hiss out through your teeth, contemplating the actions it would take to bury a stake into his heart.

"Keep talking. Makes me hard." He sneers.

You almost consider spitting in his face. He'd had the nerve to describe exactly how he'd buried his hand into Ethan's chest not a minute after you'd driven away from him last night.

"He was my friend." You grit out, hand tightening on the column of his throat, you reach for the dull knife on the coffee table beside you, bringing it up to his neck.

"Planning to tickle me with that?" He taunts as you shove him further back, until your full weight is propped onto the hand pressed around his neck, your thigh pressed right between his, forcing you to straddle his leg.

Unbelievably, you feel his hand grip your hips, holding you securely in place as if he wants you as close to him as possible.

"I can do some real damage with this." You warn, voice low and enraged, trailing the knife slowly down the column of his throat, "Don't you know dull knives hurt more?"

His lips part, his chest drops a little as if the breath in his lungs has escaped him.

"The only thing hurting me," he whispers, "Is that you're not naked."

You take the time to press the tip of the dull knife into his skin. It would take a lot more force to puncture his neck, but doing so meant you could shred his throat easily. You wonder if that would even slow him down.

Your mouth curls in disgust, pulling away from him and sliding off his body quickly. You ignore the little wet spot your cunt has left behind on his pants, still being dressed in just his shirt.

There’s a tense moment of silence, the smell of delicious chinese food in the air- he’d ordered it for you while you were asleep so that there would be food available for you not long after waking. You’d only been a few bites in when you’d asked about the last time he’d fed, and he’d revealed to you what you’d already known was true, that he’d left Ethan’s body in a dumpster, missing a heart.

“You’re sick.” You whisper, facing away from him. Ethan had been trained alongside you, saved your life just as much as you’d saved his, and Billy had killed him because he’d dared to touch you.

You feel Billy behind you now, not worrying to think about how fast he’d just moved.

You huff when you feel his hands glide over either side of your hips, fingers twitching as he holds you firm.

You try your hardest to hate it, to feel disgusted by his cold hands on you, but all you feel is flutters, in your chest, your stomach, and somewhere lower.

“From the minute I put my hands on you, I knew you were mine.” He says. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally rejecting the words.

“I know you can feel it, the way I do when I’m not near you,” he continues, drawing closer till his voice is just in your ear, “Like there’s no air in the room, unless you’re here.”

“You’re deranged.” You gasp out, feeling his hands tighten on your hips.

“You call that boy your friend, but you forget that I saw the whole thing. You didn’t want him touching you, and he did anyway. Is that not a good enough reason to tear his heart out of his chest?”

“He touched me. Not you. It was my situation to handle.” You retort.

He’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re right. I let my anger get the best of me.”

“Thank you.”

He pulls you back suddenly, till you’re pressed against his front securely, his nose running gently against your neck, one of his hands rise to tug your shirt collar down, till his face is pressed to the scar of his bite on your shoulder.

“Don’t mishear me. I’m not saying I’m sorry. Believe it or not, but I’ve been in that position, and I guarantee you, that if it’s not you, it’s someone else.”

You feel him kiss your scar, tingles spreading over your body. You’re deep in your own thoughts, thinking about his words.

“You’ve been in that position?” You echo his words, mind fuzzy with his attention.

“Mhm,” He hums, open mouthed kisses roaming your neck, “Wasn’t as strong as you either. It’s why I’ll always stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.”

You suck in a deep breath.

“But you’re a vampire.”

He spins you around, arms gripping your shoulder, eyebrows pulled together.

“You’re still thinking like that?” He utters in disbelief.

“Well, you haven’t really given me anything else to work with.”

He huffs, taking your hands in his and pulling you back to the couch.

“Okay, come, let me explain.”

You follow easily, and when you try to sit beside him, he eagerly pulls you into his lap. You huff, rolling your eyes as you try not to grind your wet centre against his thigh. He watches you, as if he can hear every thought.

“Believe it or not, vampires are very much like people. There are good, and there are bad.”

When you open your mouth to voice your opinion, he grabs the back of your head quickly, pulling you into him to lay a scalding kiss against your lips. His body might be cool to the touch, but he makes you sizzle anyway.

Heavens, he kisses like sin, plump lips owning whatever parts of yourself were still unclaimed, now his fully.

“Why don’t you let me finish, and then you can ask your questions.” He suggests, forehead pressed to yours.

A smarter side of you would argue, protesting his need to feed you what was most likely a lie.

You swallow, nodding your head hesitantly, feeling your body heat up with the memory of the things he'd done to you last night.

You look away from him, trying to get your thoughts together.

"We don't have to, I can always just lay you back right here and lick you to my heart's content."

You groan, clenching around nothing, acutely aware that being this close to him is making your head spin.

"Shut up and talk, Billy." You say with a pained hint in your voice.

He raises his eyebrows, his lips pulling into a slow grin. Thankfully he doesn't comment on your contrasting words.

"Okay, so as I was saying, from a moral perspective, vampires aren't that much different compared to humans. Realistically, if we killed someone every time we fed, more people would know about us."

"That's still a parasitic existence."

"The next time you interrupt I'm going to spank you."

You groan, clenching around nothing for a second time.

He explains it to you like you're a child, carefully arguing that the creatures of the night weren't all monsters, that they were a still budding society trying to figure out the logistics of existing.

"You sound like children." You interject.

Billy doesn't hesitate to draw his hand back and slap your thigh, watching you hiss in pain, that then quietly bleeds into pleasure, to your embarrassment.

"For most of human history, the number of vampires have only been in the hundreds. Now, we might have hit only a couple of thousand. The number of people that humans have killed vastly outweighs the number of vampires that exist and you still want to accuse us? Can't you see that the way you've been taught to think about us is flawed?"

You huff.

"Why is it so important that I believe what you say?" You ask, and it earns you another loud smack to the curve of your ass. You shut your eyes for a moment to fight the urge to rut your hips on his thigh.

"I'm trying to show you who the real monsters are. The ones that hide in the shadows and pull the strings, the ones that sell their own kind to the highest bidder of ours. These are people you should be hunting, little girl, not the fledglings that want to dance in clubs and feed from unsuspecting humans."

You open your eyes, blinking at him.

"You're saying there's something bigger at play?"

His hand comes down on your other asscheek. He grins when you glare at him.

"Yes. Your organisation trained you to kill the first vampire you see, making us all out to be monsters, but it's just not that simple. I can show the real monsters if you want, and let you-"

He cuts off, and after a second, he grins at you.

You look at him quizzically.

"You're so wet, I can feel it soaking through my jeans."

A low groan of annoyance leaves you, and you raise your hips, in an attempt to get off of him.

He’s not having it, gripping your hips firmly and pulling you back onto his thigh. When you struggle, his arms wrap around you, bringing you even closer, one hand settling low on your back, and then tugging your shirt up to grip your ass tightly. He holds you in place till you find that you are unable to even move an inch.

You study him intently as heat flushes through your system, eyes tracing the scars that line his face.

His eyes are dark, decisive, your eyes flit down to his lips, the sweet curve of them making your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. The shape of his beard urging you to rub yourself against him, the memory of his mouth between your thighs coming to mind.

You let out a slow breath.

“As I was saying, I can show you the real monsters,” He says softly, the air growing charged between you, “And let you decide what you want for yourself.”

You could barely remember why you were even fighting him, the magnetism of his form was too strong for you to resist.

“I’ll think about it.” You whisper, tilting your head to the side, and leaning into him slowly.

At the very last moment before your lips touch, you pause.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling back.

You feel his hands tighten around you.

“What?” He bites out, lips parted so you can see just the smallest hint of his fangs.

You try to ignore his snippy attitude, and resist rolling your eyes lest it get you into more trouble.

“The thing you said… about choosing mates? What’s that about?”

You watch his lips part, to take a slow breath in.

“It’s something vampires do. Sort of, like an imprint- a voluntary imprint.”

You blink at him, horror washing through your body.

“You- imprinted on me… willingly?” You try to draw away from him, and he resists your movement, hand tightening on your bare ass subtly.

It brings you back to where you are, half naked on his lap.

“Yes.” He grits out, “When I first tasted you, I claimed you as mine.”

You fight him harder now, pushing against his chest.

“Claimed me? Don’t I get a choice?”

Billy huffs.

“You came up to me in that club- or don’t you remember?” He says, and you can see the clear anger in his features.

“You didn’t even know me!” You protest, finally getting enough leverage to wiggle out of his lap and to a stand on shaky legs.

He grits his teeth, tilting his head and watching you move away from him.

“The imprint might be voluntary, but it doesn’t work unless we’re compatible.”

“You’re sick.” You respond quickly, not even thinking.

He closes his eyes slowly, rolls his neck. You worry for a moment that his need for you has just expired.

Would he kill you? If he didn’t get what he wanted from you?

You swallow, eyeing him steadily.

He stands, walking past you without a second glance.

“Eat. I’ll take you hunting tonight.”

“Wh- what if I want to leave?” You ask softly.

He stops at the doorway, looks down before turning his head to the side. You study the scar on his cheek.

“They’ll kill you if they catch you, just to get to me. And if they hurt you, I’ll scatter their body parts across the state.”

You gulp at the imagery.

It was more irritating to you that he was giving you space.

He’d gone from keeping you in his arms, to not touching you at all and it made you seethe with all the hatred you had for him.

You hadn’t left- because you knew your organisation, and you knew Billy was right. They’d try to kill you the second they found you, if only to prove a point. Especially now that you knew for sure that Ethan was dead.

You pause while applying your mascara, sucking in a deep breath. Someone had dropped off a small duffel bag of supplies for you at the door, and Billy had slid it into your hands, telling you to get ready, you’d be going out in an hour.

He’s checking his watch when you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in jeans that fit you surprisingly well and a baby pink crop top.

His eyes scour your frame, face stoic as he makes his assessment.

“Ready?” He asks.

You only nod.

The heat of the club was familiar to you, an abundance of bodies so close together in one small space, moving under the soft neon lights.

You’re following his large frame, trying to keep an eye on the olive shirt wrapped around his shoulders, fighting each dirty thought about him that crosses your mind.

He’d looked good, to your annoyance, and you were wondering how long it would take for him to touch you again.

The answer was not very long at all, because when the crowd gets too dense, he reaches behind, extending a hand for you to take.

His hand is rough in yours, cool to the touch, undead and owning it and you feel your heartbeat kick up at the casual way his hand grips yours.

You didn’t like him, definitely not.

You weren’t too distracted by him to notice some of the other vampires in the club. You catch them in your peripheral vision, eyeing you both up, no doubt your scent packing a metaphorical punch to anyone with an advanced sense of smell.

"Easy baby," Billy whispers into your ear, fully knowing that anyone could be listening in on your conversation, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down to the small of your back.

"We'll have our fun soon enough." He continues, his voice in your ear sending sharp waves of want down your spine.

If he notices your response to him, he doesn't show it, simply guiding you to an open seat at a secluded booth in the club.

He'd briefed you in the car on the way here, explaining that the objective was to be invited into the back rooms where the questionable conversations happened. All he’d been hoping for, was an idea of where the location for the next big meeting might be.

“The real shady conversations don’t happen in nightclubs, they happen in the back rooms of libraries or secluded five star restaurants that cater to our specific… diet.” Billy had explained.

That had made your stomach twist into knots at the idea that there really was something worse at play, made you want to do anything possible to put a dent in it.

He sits at the booth, and like you’d discussed in the car, you sit quietly beside him, body stirring with thoughts of what he’d said he’d do next.

“I’ll put you on my lap, I need them to think you’re my pretty pet. They’ll do anything to try to convince me to share you.”

When he pats his thigh, you do what you know he wants you to. You move slowly, crawling into his lap, straddling his hips.

It brings you face to face with him, and there’s something of a silent conversation going on between you.

Though his hands are on you, gripping your body tightly, and very inappropriately for anyone to see, there’s a distance to the expression on his face that stings.

You study his scars, his eyes closing when your noses brush.

You think about the imprint he’d confessed to. You wonder what it really meant, that maybe you weren’t at his mercy as much as you’d initially thought.

After a moment, you roll your hips against his, body igniting when you manage to feel hints of his thick erection through your layers of clothing.

He pins you with his red eyes.

It sends ripples of pleasure through you.

You didn’t know what you wanted, not even sure if it was him, with his sharp jawline and thick hair, and the scars that sit on his face, someone’s attempt at making him less beautiful gone awry.

All you knew, that in this moment, you were searching for a higher purpose, a reason for being in your current position that wasn’t just because of him. Because what kind of person would that make you? If you genuinely enjoyed being with him after the things he’s done?

After a long moment of looking into each other’s eyes, he takes a deep breath, gripping the back of your neck to bring you closer so that his lips brush your ear.

“I can smell how wet you are. Is that all for me?”

He’d know if you were lying anyway.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I need you.”

He hums, the sound goes down, all the way to your aching clit.

“If only you’d worn a skirt,” Billy continues, “I could have had my cock inside you from the minute we sat down.”

You don’t suppress your reaction, sighing in need, clenching hard around nothing.

Although this was just a performance, you realise it’s not so hard to actually act.

You pull back a little, so you can look down at his mouth. You clench again at the memory of sitting on his face.

His fingers tighten on the back of your neck, warning you that someone is approaching, your debauched act finally prompting someone to come near.

“Pardon me,” The feminine voice says- a vampire you realise- and you resist looking over at her, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your problem, and would like to extend an invitation to our basement lounge to you.”

Billy pauses, seeming to ponder her words, you attempt to ‘encourage’ him by leaning in to place kisses on the smooth column of his neck.

You feel his hand tighten on the back of your own neck imperceptibly.

“Private rooms?” He asks.

You both already know the answer before she says it.

“Not completely, but more private than this.” She says, no doubt pointing out the wide open area of the dancefloor where anyone could see the both of you.

“I’m not sure if I’m interested.” Billy responds, making sure he doesn’t look too eager to follow her.

You keep kissing his neck, running your tongue up to his earlobe before continuing your kisses, feeling the vibration as the woman slides in beside Billy.

You pause for a second, looking over at the woman, makeup done perfectly, brunette hair falling gracefully as she moves, before Billy turns your head away, a silent urge that as his pet, his conversation was none of your business.

He’d warned you about it before, that people would speak about you like you weren’t there and playing along was necessary. You could do that, you’d played hundreds of roles before when hunting, this was just another character.

The character you were playing right now, was an empty, aching little hole. Someone eager and willing to go along with anything her partner says as long as it made him happy and got her ache satiated at the end of the night. You’d pulled inspiration from your own life for this role.

“She smells so sweet.” The woman says, to Billy in a soft voice, “Surely you don’t want to enjoy her here out in the open where you can get interrupted.”

“And I’m sure that following you is going to have a price of its own.” Billy murmurs, and you squirm on his lap a little to give off an air of impatience.

Despite your aversion to him, you’re forced to admit to yourself that you enjoy sitting in his lap. This role of needy girl coming naturally to you, because you wanted, and you wanted and you wanted him to give.

“Honestly, I’d love a little taste.” The woman confesses.

“Hear that, pet?” Billy hums, fingers sliding into your hair to pull your head back so that your eyes meet his, “This one wants a taste. What do you think?”

You think she’d look nice with a stake buried in her chest.

You flutter your eyes, giving him the look of eager obedience.

“Whatever you want, sir.” You mumble.

Billy’s dark eyes give nothing away.

“Perhaps I can share a mouthful with you, but on my terms.” He says, and you smile as he continues to look into your eyes.

He’d also warned you that he might have to bite you at some point. He promised he wouldn’t let anyone else.

You trusted him. You could see it in his eyes, that maybe the idea of letting someone else touch you had been out of the question from the very start.

“We have a deal.” The woman says, standing easily, and waiting for Billy to follow.

You’re wobbly on your legs, too drunk on your own lust for him, the way he holds your hand, silently pulling you along.

You almost forget the real reason you were here, lost in wondering how he would take care of you later tonight if you’d let him.

On the way down, the woman introduces herself as Petra, Billy gives his name, and no one even mentions you. It makes you a little irritated, that you were being treated as that much of an object, but it didn’t really surprise you. They were vampires after all.

You don’t ask where you’re going, following easily, memorising every hallway and door, making a mental map in your head.

She guides you down a flight of stairs, so narrow that Billy’s shoulders brush the sides of either wall. At the bottom, is a short hallway that stops at an iron door.

Three sharp knocks, and the door cracks open.

You can feel the pulse of the music, emphasised by the lighting in the room, it’s like a dull thrumming, echoing the need inside of you, much slower and more erotic than whatever is playing in the club upstairs.

Inside is like a large cavern, the walls give off an impression of being somewhere underground, with rough rock walls and lighting fixtures jutting out.

The room is filled with secluded booths, sheer drapes to hide the bodies within, the low light accentuating the writhing figures of people dancing inside, no doubt putting on a show for their partners.

“Nice place.” Billy says, he doesn’t scan the area like you do, using senses beyond your comprehension to make his observations. He gives six squeezes to your hand- one per vampire in the room.

Six, if you had to fight your way out, things would be a little complicated.

Billy slides into the booth easily, his fingers still laced with yours, guiding you. When he sits, you settle beside him. Almost instantly, his hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You look down, feeling a little vulnerable in this position, arousal settling warmly in the spot between your legs.

“She smells divine,” Petra hums, interrupting your debauched thoughts, sitting in the booth at a respectful distance away, “You promised me a taste.” She reminds him.

“Of course.” Billy says, but when she inches toward you, he raises his hand to stop her from moving any closer.

His hand smooths over the top of your head, your eyelids fluttering at his attempt to calm you, he grips your chin gently, tilting your head to the side.

You close your eyes, your neck tingles, your mind preparing itself for the pain of it.

There’s no fear, just acceptance. You’re almost eager, from the last time he promised he’d bite you.

He takes a deep breath at the crook of your neck, hands wandering to your backside to keep you still.

You try to relax your body as much as possible, knowing that resistance made it hurt more.

His tongue glides over your neck, and then his fangs press against your skin.

Billy somehow manages to find a way to be gentle about it, he presses in fast, keeping steady as his fangs penetrate your neck.

Delight floods your system for a moment, sparking through your body from where his mouth is latched to your neck. You can’t help the small hum of surprise that leaves your throat. Surely, bites weren’t supposed to feel this good?

It pinches next, and then it stings. You close your eyes and breathe through it, experiencing the pain, letting it move through every cell of your body.

Then, the throbbing begins.

Your neck pulses, as if your body’s suddenly noticed that it’s been breached, and is trying to process the intrusion.

You whimper in pain when he raises his head, freeing his teeth from your skin, the most painful part in your opinion.

His mouth remains latched to your neck, you feel him take one big mouthful of your blood, and swallows. His grip tightens on your ass and you can only imagine what you taste like to him. He only pulls away after he takes a second mouthful.

You watch, peeking through your closed eyelids, as he beckons Petra closer, his fingers under her chin as he seals his mouth to hers.

Something ugly rears its head inside of you. An anger that wasn’t there before, burning as you watch their lips lock, as he shares your blood with her.

She moans into his mouth, pressing forward, and you watch, with blood trickling from your open wound, as she glides her tongue into his mouth.

All you can feel is hate. When he finally pulls away after what felt like hours of watching them kiss, she chases his mouth, but he braces one arm on her shoulder to stop her.

You couldn’t figure out why you were so upset, it wasn’t like… like you wanted him. Right?

“I need more.” She says, leaning in, now red eyes flitting to you, and to the blood dripping slowly from your neck.

Billy keeps her at bay, glancing at you for a moment.

“Pet,” he says easily, moving his hand off your ass and fishing in his pocket for a hankerchief to present to you, “Why don’t you put some pressure on that for me.” He inclines his head at your wound.

You nod, taking the soft white material, and pressing down to stop the bleeding.

“Please,” Petra begs again, “She’s delicious, you need to bring her to an auction we’re having next week. You have no idea how much she’s worth.”

His eyes are dark when he glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“I really could use some more blood, I can’t feed from her all the time.”

She jumps at Billy’s admittance.

“Exactly, you could get ten bodies with the amount of cash you’d get for her.”

When she leans in further, Billy’s hand drifts to wrap itself around her throat.

You can see that she’s too taken with your blood to focus properly, her eyes are glued to your neck despite the hold Billy has her in.

“Where is this auction?” Billy hums, with a tilt of his head. When she doesn’t immediately respond, trying to fight to keep the secret for as long as possible, you entice her by pulling the piece of fabric off your wound.

You’ve long since stopped bleeding, but the cloth has enough of your blood on it to loosen her lips easily.

She speaks the time and place in a very soft breath, that not even you can hear, all you can see from the corner of your eyes are her lips moving, and after a moment, Billy nods in understanding.

“I’ll think about it. Now leave. You promised me privacy and you’ve already had your taste.” He pushes her away, releasing the grip on her throat.

She catches herself as she falls back, and with a sour look, she backs off, leaving you alone with each other.

Did you have to kiss her? You immediately want to ask, but with the knowledge that anyone can hear your conversation, you can only roll your eyes at him, and lean away.

You know that technically, you’re supposed to be locked into an intimate embrace with him, but you can’t bear the thought of kissing him after watching him kiss someone else.

You needed to find a way to make this believable on your own terms, and you also didn’t want to actually fuck him either. You’d had enough of being vulnerable for the night.

Without thinking too much about it, you reach for the button on his jeans.

His hands reach to stop you, a silent exchange passing between you. He raises his eyebrows in a 'What are you doing?' type of way.

You both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t very well just leave after getting the information you wanted, it would look too suspicious. Something had to be done, and this is what you’d decided on.

You bite down on your bottom lip, deep in thought, watching his eyes drift down to your mouth, and when you reach to undo his pants again, he doesn’t stop you.

You shuffle back, tugging at his jeans and working his boxers down until his cock is exposed to you.

He's almost at full mast, and his indecent exposure and the implications of that succeeds in bringing him to full hardness.

You feel something twist inside of you, a pleasure racing through your body at just the sight of him.

You wanted to do this, for yourself as much as for him.

Shuffling back, you keep your eyes on his, slipping easily onto your knees between his parted legs.

When your knees hit the ground, you watch his eyes flash red momentarily.

There’s nothing to be said between you. You can’t convey to him that you’re only doing this because any of the alternatives mean opening up to him, and that’s the last thing you feel like doing right now.

Right now, all you want to do is take from him.

So instead, you lean forward, and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

His cock is so fucking good you have to fight the moans that rise so easily within you.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning forward even more, tongue roaming over his tip.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you reward the sound by taking him deeper.

It feels so right to have him in your mouth, heavy against your tongue, the head of his cock is smooth, and you're intrigued by the sensation.

You reach for his hand, the one that's got a death grip on the soft cushion beside your head. He releases the couch on your insistence, and you encourage his hand to grip the back of your head.

He grunts out what you think is an expletive, and you pause, raising your head to look at him.

His eyes are dark, the scars on his face look downright devilish in the low light, and you want him to use you for his pleasure, so that you don’t have to feel bad about wanting.

You can tell he’s hesitant, for the very first time you see him pause in his pursuit of you, dark eyes unsure, that is, until you begin to lick gently at his tip.

Teasing him with small touches of your tongue, you watch the darkness grow and grow in his eyes, until he finally takes control- gripping the back of your head harshly.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation, obedient to whatever he wills. You move easily as he pulls your mouth back onto his cock.

He takes it slow at first, guiding the movement of your head up and down on his cock, pushing you down a little deeper each time.

You suck a little- because for all the control he has- you’re in charge here.

“That’s a good girl.” He hums lowly, guiding your head. You hum in response.

It feels good to give him this, feel him filling your mouth so rhythmically, your cunt weeping for the attention he gives your mouth.

You push farther than his hands guide, taking him to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t prepared for the intrusion, and resists, forcing you to pull away with a gasp.

Tears in your eyes, you look up at him in apology.

His lips are parted, licking at his bottom lip, he grips your hair harshly, and pulls your head up.

You grunt, scalp tingling for a moment as he pulls your body taut between his legs, leaning down until his lips are pressed to your ear.

“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, little girl.” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow, cunt squeezing around nothing.

You wanted to hate him.

You wanted him to use you however he wanted.

You don’t say anything, and when he pulls back to look at you, you make sure he can see the fire in your eyes.

All he does is smirk, and pull your head back down to his cock.

This time, he’s rougher with his motions, guiding your head faster, till your jaw begins to ache but you refuse to give up, wanting to taste his cum, the way he tasted your blood, to have a part of him, just like he had a part of you.

His hands tighten in your hair, a warning, you suck rhythmically, using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock.

You hear his breath catch, before he’s pushing you down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut as he fills your mouth with salty cum, his cock pulsing against your tongue, and you do your best to take everything he has to give.

You don’t swallow immediately, pulling your head off of his cock, you look up at him, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out to show him the evidence of his release.

His eyes flash red as he watches you swallow his cum, appreciating the salty taste of him, before opening your mouth again to show him that it’s all gone.

You breathe deeply, gazing at each other for a long moment. His hand slips from the back of your head, cups your cheek gently.

“I can smell how wet you are. Let’s go home. The things I want to do to you I can’t do here.” Billy says softly, and you nod, getting out of his way so that he can stand and tuck his cock back into his pants.

When he’s done, he extends a hand to you, which you take easily, rising to a stand.

When he leans in to kiss you, you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips, still upset at seeing him kiss another.

He pulls away, a stony expression on his face as he guides you out of the secluded booth.

You grab the handkerchief with your blood on it, tucking it into your back pocket, making sure there’s no evidence of your blood left behind.

Billy nods at Petra on his way out of the room, and you keep your eyes fixed to the floor like the pet you’re supposed to be.

#dark!billy russo #vampire billy #billy russo #vampire!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #billy russo smut #monster!billy russo #monster!billy

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mistystepmoonbeam · 21 days

Text

Reborn into BG3: Chapter 7

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 7: To the goblin camp!

Word count: 2.1K

The next morning you’re exhausted and nauseated. You aren’t sure how much blood Astarion took but it was enough to get Tav flitting around you, his mother duck feathers ruffled.

It’s hard not to look at Astarion as you try to gauge the vampire’s attitude—does he want to tell the others? After feeding on Tav the others just seemed to know in the morning once you start talking to him, so you’re at a loss for words stuck between wanting to tell the truth, and wanting to earn Astarion’s trust.

“Looks like you and Astarion had a late night last night,” Karlach interjects with a wide grin. “Saw him slinking out of your tent in the wee morning hours. Gotta say I’m a little jealous—of both of you I mean. Getting to touch another person like that…”

Gale chokes on his water, sputtering and coughing behind you.

“I don’t think that’s what they were doing, Karlach,” Shadowheart says. “Unless it was before he took a bite.”

Karlach laughs. “Isn’t biting part of the fun?”

“Biting?” Tav questions.

You lift your arm, expecting to see dried blood and two little holes in your wrist but it’s completely normal. Even whatever blood hadn’t made it into Astarion’s mouth was nowhere to be seen.

Shadowheart reveals, “I healed the wound and cleaned up the blood. Astarion didn’t want to be blamed for you bleeding out in the middle of the night. Nor did I.”

“Thanks,” you respond, eyes still on your wrist. If you didn’t feel like throwing up it’s like it never even happened.

Gale appears at your side. “To each their own, I always say, but if it leads to such dire circumstances perhaps you should find yourself a more suitable partner.”

“For the love of—“ Astarion cries out. “We didn’t have sex! I fed—I’m a…I’m a vampire.”

That little admission didn’t sound intentional, but you’re glad to have the attention on him.

He must have told Shadowheart because she’s the only one that isn’t displaying shock, confusion, curiosity, or disgust.

“But you’re in the sun.” Karlach is first to break the quiet.

There’s a discussion about what the parasite is capable of, resulting in Karlach complaining, “So you can walk in the sun but I still can’t touch anyone? Seems unfair.”

Tav grabs you into a one-armed hug, nearly slamming you against his chest as he points his other hand at Astarion. “You feed off me next time! I have more blood, I can afford it.”

“Isn’t it better if he feeds on me?” you ask into the tieflings chest. “Since I’m not going out and fighting off goblins and spiders?”

Your dream comes back to you—talking around the fire, learning magic with Gale…but you can’t decipher which is memory and which is the dream. You focus on it, knowing that Tav had found the amethyst and was tossing it around like a toy only to be scolded by Gale. But no book. Maybe that was why you hadn’t felt anything from it in the dream—there was no memory to pull from. You find yourself a little disappointed by the fact that Gale hadn’t offered to test your magic but quickly push away the feeling.

You push Tav away, too. “Besides, I’m fine. I’m not that important here anyway so if Astarion needs to feed on me now and again he’s welcome to.”

“Thank you, darling,” Astarion says, “but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

After that the group forces you to consume as much fruit as possible in a single sitting. Soon enough your nausea isn’t from blood loss but overeating, and you’re shooing away the worriers—Tav, Gale, and Karlach.

“Don’t you guys have somewhere to be? Halsin is still out there.” There’s a pang in your chest knowing he’s in the goblin camp.

“That’s true.” Tav sighs. “You should come with us.”

You pause, wondering if you looked healthier than you felt. “…why?”

“It’ll be fun? And when you lose blood it’s better to be out and about.”

“That doesn’t sound remotely right,” you reply. Tav is kneeling beside you, eyes large and watery as they look into your own. Can tieflings be half puppy? You have to stop yourself from agreeing to his request on the spot. “I don’t want to slow you guys down. Or get one of you killed. Or die.”

“We aren’t going to be fighting, they’re going to let us in.”

There’s too many variables and you’re forced to repeat, “Why?”

“We went back and got Sazza, the goblin you saved,” Tav explains.

“She was grateful enough to offer us an introduction to her tribe and leaders,” Gale says. “I’m sure your presence will grease the wheels, so to speak.”

You conceded, if only after Tav gave you another small health potion.

You set out with more party members than you thought you would—Tav, Karlach, Gale, and Astarion. You hope Wyll would be enough of a buffer for Shadowheart and Lae’zel as they search the upper roads for signs of the githyanki. It’s strange to see the camp split up, but it makes more sense than leaving people to sit around all day. Granted, you’d love to be sitting right now as you approach the bridge leading into the goblin camp. It’s not just the fatigue, or the anxiety of being surrounded by goblins, but knowing what will happen when they cross the bridge. When you cross the bridge. And what it means if nothing happens. You hadn’t actually seen the device Shadowheart held and she wasn’t even here right now…

“It will be okay,” Gale says quietly. You’d lagged back far enough for him to notice, and stay near you. “You’ve seen just how charming our fearless leader is.”

You force your lips into a shaky smile and nod. With Gale at your side you catch up to the others as they’re about to cross the bridge into the ruined shrine. The spiky barricades aren’t nearly as threatening as what’s about to come.

Tav sets one foot on the bridge, then Karlach, Astarion, Gale…you. Your leader is halfway across when you briefly think you might be in the clear, until he falls to his knees. He grunts in pain, holding his head as the others follow suit, all of them going down at the same time beneath the pressure of the Absolute.

You flinch back and…nothing. You’re fine. You hear no voice, feel no pain in your body, other than what you had before, and watch while the others shiver and groan, listening to the Absolute's message about the chosen three. You grip your staff as you watch with wide eyes, heart clenching, unable to help them or understand why you aren’t included. But the tadpole in your head doesn’t stir, not even when the relic shoots out of Tav’s bag and saves them from the Absolute’s control. It glows orange as it floats above Tav until he can grab it, releasing the group.

“What in the bloody Hells was that?” Astarion shouts.

They’re each breathing heavy as they stand, shaking their heads in hopes of clearing their minds.

“I think that was the Absolute,” Gale suggests, “and her chosen.”

“Whatever it was, that thing protected us.” Karlach’s eyes are in the Githyanki device in Tav’s hands. He shifts it between his fingers but it doesn’t react, so he puts it back into the bag at his waist.

And nobody questions you. Being the last one behind, they seem to assume you’d heard the voice and seen the vision, too. You’ve never been so grateful to be an unimportant extra.

You try not to let your exhaustion show in front of the goblins. Your body and mind both feel like there’s a heavy weight on them, pushing you towards the ground until your knees want to buckle. You’re using the staff to help keep you upright, and blame everything on blood loss and anxiety.

Thankfully Gale was right about Tav’s charisma and you get inside the temple with little trouble. The trouble being dragging Tav away from chicken chasing. They have a chicken, not an owlbear, and the only other human there is Volo so you’re not sure what route was taken yesterday. Nobody had mentioned an owlbear, meaning they had skipped past the cave…or perhaps didn’t want to tell you about killing the cub.

Regardless, apparently chicken chasing is as fun for Tav as it is for the goblins, and you’re only able to get him away and into the temple by promising you’ll give it a try when you’re feeling better.

Once inside and past the guards, you see Priestess Gut. Her presence is more imposing than her stature suggests and there’s a crackling fear that runs through your body when her eyes fall on you. Tav takes the lead, denying the branding after a quick meeting of the worms, and the Priestess invites him elsewhere.

“Not that one, though,” she says, looking at you. “That one’s not a True Soul, been abandoned by the Absolute. They’ll stay locked up until we’re done.”

“Huh?” It’s all you can think to say as two goblins with pikes and shields approach you. They don’t get close enough to touch you before the others step to your aid, which puts the rest of the surrounding goblins on alert, drawing their own weapons.

“Not gonna happen,” Karlach announces.

“Put your weapons down while I’m bein’ nice,” Priestess Gut orders. “I could just have you all killed on the spot but I’m feeling generous–you’ll all walk out of here fine but that one stays in the cage until we’re done.”

Tensions rise when she spits out the words “that one”, like you’re some gnat needing to be squished. Your companions don’t lower their weapons, and neither do the goblins. You know how this fight goes, you know it can be won when turns are taken but right now there are no turns. No waiting.

“I’ll go!” you shout. You hold your staff out to Gale, cursing the slight tremble in your hands and voice. “It’s just for a bit. I’ll wait for you guys in…prison.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Gale whispers. He only takes your staff when you shake your head.

Karlach and Tav seem about to argue, fight even, before the goblins can react, but you shake your head at them as well. I’ll be fine, you think. You wish you understood how to use the tadpoles to send messages, but maybe it went through anyway because they all holster their weapons. Even Astarion, whom you’d hadn’t realised was willing to fight on your behalf as well, returns his daggers to their holsters.

“Just uh, don’t be too long, okay?” You try not to think about the people the goblins are cooking outside, or that the butcher is in the same place you’re about to go. You don’t look back at anyone as you’re taken away, hoping you didn’t just sentence yourself to death.

And it did feel like a death sentence walking past all the goblins. But it was a little exciting, too. The heavy beat of your heart couldn’t decide if it was from dread or a morbid interest in the creatures that barely came to your waist. While still in sight of your companions nobody said a word to you. You think the entire journey is going to be silent when a goblin shouts, “Hold up, eh?”

You and the guards halt, turning to the source of the voice. Sazza. She eyes you, but she isn’t what you’re wary of right now. Beside her floats the scrying eye.

When the game says looking at it is like falling into an inky black pool, it’s not wrong. You waver a moment as the hairs on the back of your neck raise, the feeling of being watched coming over you. But it’s a different kind of watch than the goblins, more predatory. If that was possible.

“What d’ya want?” one escort says.

“This thing flew right over when it saw this one,” Sazza explains with a wave at you. “Guess it likes ya. I should probably say thanks by the way, for takin’ the arrow.”

She doesn’t actually thank you.

The scrying eye spins around you, floating up and down as if taking stock of you, kind of like when Gale first came out of the portal. Was it interested in your coat, too? Soon enough it stays in front of your face, examining your features. You don’t have an option menu before you, and with a waver in your voice you say, “Uh, hello?”

The eye vibrates, or shakes, or maybe it shivers.

“S’weird,” Sazza says, watching the eye. Nobody can disagree with that.

“C’mon,” your other escort says. “Don’t care if that things watchin’, gotta get the prisoner downstairs.”

They begin to lead you towards the worg pens and the eye follows you. The only reason it leaves your side it when the door to the pens slams shut before it can get inside.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi

#reborn into bg3 #reborn into baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of money #astarion x reader #gale x reader #slow burn #we'll get to romance things soon I promise #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fanfic #fanfic #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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strangemagicc · 7 months

Text

Lucky You

pairings: vampire!rockstar!Eddie x fem!Reader, sort of set in the world of True Blood (but not really)

warnings: smut, smut, smut (again I say 18+ ONLY!), p in v, oral (reader receiving), slight dom!Eddie, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of blood/blood drinking, biting(???), cursing, alcohol

w/c: 4.5k

author’s note: I had a very vivid dream of Eddie as Lestat from Queen of the Damned…it just needed to happen.

The October air blew cold against your bare legs sending a chill down your spine. The streets of Chicago were full, the sounds of the city and the muffled music from inside the club filling the air around you. You and your friend Toby had been standing in line for nearly an hour trying to get into Fangtasia.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He leaned in and whispered to you. You looked to him with a purse of your lips, eyes narrowed as you watched him scan the crowd that stood behind you. Toby wasn’t exactly keen on being in a room full of vampires.

“Will you relax? I’ve been here a million times. They’re just like you and I. Harmless.” He rolled his eyes and looked at you incredulously.

“You mean to tell me that these walking corpses are harmless?”

“They’re not corpses,” you rolled your eyes and stepped forward as the line continued to move.

“Are they dead?” He asked, folding his arms as he waited for your response.

“Technically speaking,” you smirked knowing exactly where he was going with this.

“Walking corpses, there is no argument,” he waved his hands as though his point was proven.

“Toby, it’s going to be fine. It’s all about consensual fun, they don’t bite unless you want them to,” you grabbed his hands and gave them a squeeze.

“Why would anyone want that?” He asked as you dropped his hands and reached for your ID. You smiled as you approached your favorite bouncer, Frank. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and biceps bigger than your head.

“Hi, Frankie,” you winked and handed him your ID.

“You know I don’t need to see that,” he scoffed playfully and pushed your license away. You had been a frequent flyer as of late.

“How did I know I was going to see you tonight?” He teased as Toby handed the bouncer his ID.

“Must have magical foresight,” you played along and the man handed Toby back his card.

“Nothing to do with Corroded Coffin playing a not so secret show?” He removed the velvet rope to let the two of you through.

“They are?” You stated with faux surprise.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” Frank laughed, “Enjoy the show, Hubble.”

You walked through the double doors of the club, the muffled music becoming louder as the two of you walked down the hall leading to the dance floor.

“Why does he call you Hubble?” Toby asked as he walked in step with you.

“I don’t know, something about how I always look like I’m lost in space or whatever,” you waved it off, adjusting the hem of your skirt before pushing at your cleavage.

“How do I look?” Toby looked you up and down, mouth dropping as he noticed the length of your skirt…or lack thereof.

“Like vamp bait.”

“Great.” You continued down the hall and Toby followed a step behind you.

“What do you mean ‘great’? Are you nuts?”

“Tobs, I love you, but you need to chill. I just want to have a little fun.” You wanted to fuck the lead singer of your favorite band but he didn’t need to know your every thought.

“Let’s go dance,” he stared at you with his jaw agape as you grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

Fangtasia was packed, a mass of people crowding in front of the stage as the opening act played their set. The sound of the instruments and the singer’s voice reverberated off the walls. The room was cast in shades of blue, glimmers of candlelight came from various spots throughout. Couples were in different stages of embrace, canoodling and groping each other on the leather sofas that were scattered throughout. Bodies swayed to the music, sweat glistening under the colorful lights. You took it in, basking in the ambiance as Toby stood next to you unsure.

“What the,” he started.

“Isn’t it great?” You mused before pulling him towards the edge of the stage.

“Do we have to be this close?” He leaned into you and you turned toward him, eyebrow raised in a question that you didn’t need to voice out loud. If you were going to a Corroded Coffin show you were going to be at the front of the pit, practically sitting in Eddie’s lap.

The crowd erupted in scattered cheers as the opening act finished their set.

“Thank you, Fangtasia! You’re always a great crowd. Who’s excited to see Corroded Coffin tonight?” The audience grew louder.

“Yeah, we’re pretty excited too,” the lead singer laughed.

“Thanks again! We’re Hell Hath No Fury and we hope to see you next time we blow through Chicago. Give it up for Corroded Coffin.” The crowd cheered as the lights faded to black, you watched as the opening band exited the stage and the stage hands set up for the main show. Excitement coursed through you like a live wire as you waited for them to start. Toby continued to stand stoic and unimpressed by his surroundings. When Eddie took the stage you could almost feel it, an electricity buzzing in the air. You grabbed onto Toby as you jumped in elation.

The strum of the guitar introduced them, mellow and intoxicating. The room was illuminated in red as Eddie began to sing and it was as if the rest of the room faded away. Your focus was on him, body swaying to the instrumentals as you got lost in the sound. From the corner of your eye you could see Toby bobbing his head, enjoying the music whether he wanted to admit it or not.

The sound of the waves collide

It was as though his vocals were vibrating through you and straight to your sensitive core. You clenched your thighs together as the song continued, head lost in a trance. Eddie’s eyes scanned the crowd, engaging and then they landed on you. It was almost hypnotic the way they pulled you in, piercing brown boring into your gaze. He didn’t pull away and your heart began beating loudly as heat rushed to your cheeks.

Take me one more wave

Take me for one last ride

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze, unable to handle the intensity. It felt like your veins were on fire and sweat beaded at your temples. When you looked back Eddie was smirking, dimples appearing as he continued his set.

“I need water,” you pulled Toby with you to the bar, sweaty palms clasped together. You waved over the bartender when you reached the wooden bar. The brunette nodded an acknowledgment and you reached for your purse.

“That was actually pretty good,” Toby admitted as you dug for your wallet.

“I’ve been telling you that the shows are pretty killer.”

“Yeah but you also like Dido so forgive me for being apprehensive.”

“You just don’t appreciate good music, Tobs.” You poked his side and he winced at the contact. He did not like to be tickled.

“What can I get the two of you?” The bartender asked as she placed napkins in front of you.

“I’ll just take a water and he’ll have,” you turned to Toby.

“I’ll take a rum and coke,” he nodded.

“Got a preference on the rum?” She asked him as she filled a glass with ice water for you.

“Whatever you have that isn’t expensive,” he laughed and she smiled at him.

“Coming right up,” she slid the glass of water towards you and you gulped it down in relief.

“Think she was checking you out, Tobs,” you giggled as you continued to sip.

“Shut up,” he nudged you with his shoulder but looked back in her direction.

“She is pretty cute, huh?”

“A smoke show,” you agreed, “you should get her number.”

“Oh that’s exactly what she wants, another random guy hitting on her while she tries to work,” he rested his hands on the bar and you shrugged.

“Just don’t be a creep about it,” you placed your empty glass down along with a twenty.

“I’m going to the restroom, can you order me the same as you?”

“Sure thing,” he nodded and slid onto one of the barstools.

You navigated through the crowd that remained, the bass of the music slightly lower than it was earlier. The hallway leading to the bathroom was dimly lit by intricate candelabras and the walls were lined with black curtains. The music disappeared into the distance as you continued down the hall passing closed doors for feedings or more private sessions. You could hear faint moans as you leaned closer to the door before you continued on.

“Do you always eavesdrop?” The voice startled you and you looked around unable to place where it came from. Eddie moved from the shadows, eyes glimmering in the light as he did. He was still wearing the outfit he’d worn during his set. The mesh shirt revealed a strong chest and pierced nipples. You could scarcely see the black ink that lined his alabaster skin, tattoos that led to the top of his leather jeans that hugged him snuggly. He moved toward you, gaze taking in your curves. His scent filled the space as he approached, amber and citrus. It was almost intoxicating, making your mouth water the closer he stood.

“Well?” He was waiting for your response.

“Not typically,” you breathed and suddenly he was behind you, nose hovering close as he inhaled your scent.

“Do you know what happens behind those doors?” You’d heard the noises, imagined what caused the sounds but had never stepped foot into one of the private rooms.

“I can imagine,” his hands inched up the bare skin of your arms leaving a trail of goose flesh in its path. His palms were like ice against you and you tried to hide the shiver he elicited.

“Do you want to see?” His mouth was hovering over your ear and you could feel the warmth of his breath as you nodded. He grabbed your hand and you followed him in a daze, feeling as if you were in a dream as he walked you through the door furthest down the hall. He closed and locked it behind him as you turned to take in your surroundings. It must’ve been his dressing room, clothes were scattered across one loveseat and throw pillows decorated the other. It was only illuminated by candlelight, embers flickered as you stepped further into the space. The room smelled like him with a hint of copper. Blood. You turned as he approached, his eyes on your lips. He was even prettier up close.

“I’ve seen you here before,” it wasn’t a question and you nodded.

“What’s your name?” You whispered an introduction and he repeated it back, your name sounding sweeter on his lips.

“Are you one of those fang bangers?” A derogatory term for those who sought out vampires just to sleep with them to say they had. You shook your head but couldn’t find your words.

“That’s too bad,” he chuckled and ran his thumb against your jaw, “I’ve had my eye on you.” His thumb ran across your lip, pulling it down before he lifted his eyebrows in a silent command. You opened your mouth slightly making room for his thumb, lips wrapping around it as it pressed into your tongue. You flicked your tongue slightly eliciting a small groan from him as he watched you. He removed his finger with a loud pop from your lips and he rubbed his thumb along your cheek, watching your eyes flutter close as his face inched closer. His tongue swiped lightly at your bottom lip before he pressed the soft flesh of his to yours. The kiss was surprisingly soft and he took his time as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your hands tangled in his curls as you pulled him to you. The moments passed, the kiss growing hungrier and you nipped at his bottom lip, sucking the flesh as he kneaded the dough of your ass through your leather skirt. The hem of it continued to rise until you felt the chill of the room, only the sliver of your thong kept you decent. Eddie pulled your ass cheeks apart, and the air met the warmth of your arousal between your thighs. He inhaled deeply, a groan coming from deep within him and he pulled you up, wrapping your legs around his waist carrying you to the sofa. He laid you down gently, lips only pulling away from you momentarily as he took his shirt off. You marveled at him, hands reaching out to trace his tattoos and rub against the exposed flesh. Eddie bent back down, eager lips meeting yours before he trailed kisses down your neck and to your cleavage.

“Is this okay?” He asked and you nodded as he pulled the straps of your lace camisole down to expose your naked breasts. Your nipples pebbled as they met the cold hair and he hummed, tongue swiping against one as his hand pinched the other. You moaned and began grinding against his growing arousal as you caged him between your legs. Eddie continued to work your nipple, sucking and biting the flesh as his hand wandered down to your center. You whined in anticipation, wanting his fingers on your sensitive bud. He inhaled deeply as his fingers traced over your wet flesh, teasing your clit before he removed his hand entirely and broke apart from the kiss. You watched as he brought his fingers to his lips, they glistened with your arousal and he flicked his tongue across one letting out a low groan.

“You taste as sweet as you smell,” he brought his fingers to your mouth inserting them gently to give you a taste and you began grinding your hips against him as you sucked them dry.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered watching as your eyes rolled back and you played with your nipples. He began kissing down your chest, across the flesh of your stomach and past your hips. You were spread before him and he took his time with your thighs, leaving hickeys as he inched closer to where you needed him most. You arched your back in anticipation watching as he moved to the other thigh and sucked a bruise into your flesh. The tip of his canine grazed against your skin and you inhaled sharply.

“Can I?” He asked and you nodded, front teeth digging into your lower lip as you chewed on it anticipating the sting of the puncture. Your hand trailed down your stomach and under your panties rubbing your bud in soft circles as his fangs dug into your thigh. You whimpered in pleasure watching as he fed. Blood trickled from your femoral artery and he lapped it up. His eyes were dark and trained on you as you curled your other fingers into his hair. He used the sharp edge of his canine to prick his finger and used his blood to heal your wound. He licked the rest of your blood away from his lips before pulling your panties down. You continued to rub circles into your clit, your arousal pooling beneath you as you edged closer to climax. He removed your hand licking your fingers clean before raking his tongue across your sensitive flesh. It was soft and flat as he dragged it through your folds. You bucked underneath his touch and his nose nudged your bundle of nerves causing you to moan. He prodded your seeping entrance with his finger and you clenched as you thought of how you’d feel if he stretched you open. He continued to work your clit with his tongue as he teased your cunt.

“Please!” You begged, voice going up an octave before he obliged and worked his finger into you. Your hips bucked underneath him, moving with the motion of his finger as he moved it in a come hither motion. You needed more and you keened, voicelessly begging to be stretched more. Eddie began rutting his hips into the couch as you continued to ride his fingers, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit. You were going to come undone, the rubber band at your center about to snap when he removed his fingers from your cunt and you whined.

“You don’t come until I say, sweetheart,” he commanded and you nodded, watching as he removed his leather pants. His length sprang forward and he gripped the hard flesh, stroking as he took in the sight of you.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he continued to pump his cock and watched as you removed your skirt before taking off your blouse. He laid you on the couch and pulled you to the edge, eyeing your tits as they jiggled with the movement. He slapped them, gripped them roughly before squeezing at your pebbled nipple. You moaned, pussy gripping around nothing as you waited for him to stop teasing you. Eddie rubbed the tip of his dick along your folds, continuing to tease you as the sound of your wet slick filled the room. You needed a release and reached your hand down to rub your clit.

“Stop that,” he demanded and you did as you were told but continued to whimper as he continued to tease. Finally, his tip poked your entrance and he inched into you. He held his breath as your sticky flesh wrapped around his length. You gripped his arms, nails digging into his pale skin as you took him in. He was big, the girth of his cock stretching you until he bottomed out. His breath was heavy against your lips as his nose nudged yours. Your hands grazed over his pale flesh and he flexed under your touch. There was electricity in the air again, the kind that was only present when he was and you were buzzing with the thrill of it as he began to thrust his hips lazily, enjoying the way you felt as he pulled and pushed back into you. Your head rutted against the pillows with each movement, boobs jiggling as he picked up the pace and gripped your hips. You knew you’d have bruises from where they dug. A strangled sound came from his lips as he rutted into you, your pussy making filthy, pretty noises as his hips met yours. Your cunt fluttered around his length and he groaned obscenities at the way you felt.

“Fucking Christ,” he pulled back from you, watching as your pussy swallowed every inch of him. He placed a soft peck to your temple before pulling your wrists above your head holding them there as he continued to slam his cock into you. The room was filled with the lewd noises the two of you created and the moans that couldn’t be choked back. White hot pleasure coursed through you as you tightened around him. You snagged your hips up, rubber band winding back as you arched off the couch. Eddie’s eyes drooped with pleasure as he neared his climax and gripped you tightly, hastily unwrapping your cunt from around him. He wasn’t going to let you come, not yet. He flipped you onto your stomach and you arched your back, wiggling your hips at him. Eddie took his time, trailing kisses up your spine and up to your jaw. He bit at your bottom lip and you tasted copper as you bled into his mouth. He kissed you deep as he rubbed his length between your folds.

“You can’t wait for me to stretch you out again, can you?” He pulled away and watched as your eyebrows met as he continued to tease you. You shook your head, eyelashes fluttering shut as you pushed your hips against him and tried to inch him into you. He slapped your ass and you yelped at the sensation.

“I need to hear your answer,” he spread you apart and you keened, nodding at him. He swatted at your ass cheek again, the contact stinging with pleasure and you moaned.

“N-no, I can’t wait,” you stammered and he smirked, already knowing. He knelt down behind you and lapped at your glistening flesh, moaning as his mouth became covered in your arousal. You bucked frantically against him as he teased your cunt with his index finger, moaning as you sucked him in. Your head was in the clouds, fucked out and ready to come if only he’d let you.

Eddie lined his cock at your entrance inching into you slowly stopping to squeeze your hips as you took every inch of him.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he panted and began jerking his hips forward. Your eyes were glassy, a high keen escaping your lips as he quickened his pace. He spread your cheeks more and tested the tightness of your other hole with his thumb, massaging the tight entrance as he continued slamming his hips into yours. The new sensation had you squeezing around him, the tightness making him groan at the feeling. Your legs began to shake, pleasure taking over you and your moans turned to loud whines as the rubber band at your center threatened to snap.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he stated between thrusts and you pushed back to take him deeper. He slapped your ass once more, gripping at the dough of it.

“Do you want to come, baby?” You nodded, his name on your tongue as you get closer to coming undone.

“Please, please, please, let me come Eddie,” he grabbed your wrists and pulled them behind you. His thrusts becoming more aggressive as he edged closer to his own release.

“Shit, right there Eddie oh please right there.” You keened, cries coming from you in wet sobs as you closed your eyes tight and let the pleasure take over. Your jaw went slack, goosebumps spread across your supple skin when as you came. It was ecstasy, a new kind of orgasm that you hadn’t felt before. Eddie tilted his head to the side and he watched you come undone, his nails digging crescent moons into your skin. His moan echoed through the room as he painted your walls with his come. You felt his warmth flood you and he collapsed against your back in a huff.

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathed. Both of you were spent, breaths coming in quick succession as you came back down to earth, hearing the sounds of the club just outside the door for the first time since you entered. Eddie laid ginger kisses up your spine, his touch softer than just a moment ago. He pulled himself out of you and you winced at the loss.

“Afraid I made a mess out of you baby,” he stated and slapped your ass more playfully.

“Stay there, I’ll get a rag to clean you up,” he went over to the adjoining restroom and you listened as he turned on the faucet before quickly returning with a washcloth. He wiped the warmth over your sensitive skin and kissed your shoulder as he finished. You turn onto your side, watching as he tossed the cloth to the side and pulled on his boxers before handing you your clothes. You suddenly felt awkward, like you should’ve left right after he finished and you began to hastily pull your clothes on.

“Having second thoughts?” He asked as he watched you.

“No, no,” you shook your head, “just don’t want to overstay my welcome.” You gave a small smile, buttoning your skirt as you did. His hand stopped yours and he pulled you up from your place on the couch. He kissed you softer than before, his lips lingering on your bottom one.

“Don’t feel like that, sweetheart,” he whispered and nudged his nose against yours.

“I had fun,” he mused and you nodded in agreement.

“We should do it again,” he stated, looking at you to measure your response.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he pulled away and went to grab a pen before scribbling his number onto your arm.

“Call me, we can have more fun or I can take you on an actual date,” he shrugged his shoulder as if it were nothing but you beamed at him.

“I’ll do that,” he kissed you sweetly, and placed another on your forehead. A bang at the door startled you and Eddie shot a glare to whoever is on the other side.

“One second,” he shouted before giving you a quick peck on the cheek and answering.

“What is it?” He blocked whoever was there from your view and you stood there staring at his back curiously.

“I’ll be out in a second, go ahead and start the bus.” He closed the door and turned back to you, wringing his neck uncomfortably before pointing his thumb to the door.

“That was my band manager, we’ve got to head out. We have an early show in Milwaukee tomorrow and we’ve got to hit the road.” You nodded and gathered the rest of your things, heading towards the door. You knew what this was, knew that even if you called that your fling wouldn’t go past that conversation or past this room but you weren’t hurt by his abrupt departure.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” you shrugged as you left the room not waiting for his response. As you walked back down the dark hallway you remembered. Toby. You quickened your pace, straightening out your appearance and hoped to whatever deity that he hadn’t already reported you a missing person. As you approached the bar you noticed his lips locked with the bartender, her hands curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Go Toby,” you chuckled to yourself and discreetly grabbed your drink from beside him. He felt your presence and broke the kiss, eyeing you sheepishly. You raised your hand in a teasing wave, straw caught between your teeth as you held back a laugh at the state of him. His red hair was in disarray, glasses hanging on his freckled face crookedly and bruised lips.

“Sorry,” he whispered to the girl.

“Uh, you know Jade right?” He asked you, his eyes darting between you and the brunette.

“Not as well as you do,” you laughed and he turned a deep shade of red.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” you shrugged and moved away from the bar into the frigid fall night. Toby joined you shortly after, hands coming up to his mouth and he tried to warm himself.

“Did you get her number?” You asked as the two of you walked in step towards your apartment a few blocks away.

“Of course I did,” he rolled his eyes as if it were obvious.

“By the way where the fuck did you disappear to? I almost called in search and rescue.”

“Just out back fucking the lead singer of corroded coffin,” and he laughed at you disbelieving.

“Yeah, okay. Don’t tell me then.” He nudged you slightly and the two of you continued on into the night.

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littlefangbanger · 1 year

Text

True Blood Vampires w/ a Human Mate

Pairing(s): Eric; Pam; Godric; x GN!Reader

CW: Vague mentions of sex, violence, etc... Come on, it's True Blood. Mentions of Luke (suicide bomber). Some fluff. Lots of rambling.

Notes: Only on season 4 right now, so I'm sure I'm missing some good characters. Didn't do Bill but if anybody wants a second version of this just ask. I'm open to requests so feel free to send me asks!

Eric Northman

This man only uses humans for three things: feeding, fucking and as a means to an end. If they didn't offer anything useful, they didn't interest him. That was, until you.

Ngl it took this man a long time to recognize his own feelings. It took Pam calling him out to realize he was starting to feel something almost human. Love?

You heard him say it, don't use words he doesn't understand.

Anyways, at first he thought he was just attracted to you due to your blood. He hadn't actually tasted it yet but it was tempting nonetheless.

You were with them at Godric's nest when the suicide bomber attacked. You were further away from Luke than Sookie and Eric, but you were still human.

Eric was the one who pulled the debris out of you and fed you his blood. That was the moment he started to come to terms with his own feelings. He wasn't going to lose you.

This man will protect you from EVERYTHING, vampire or not. If it's a vampire of all things threatening your safety, in his area, well... bless their cold non-beating hearts.

Remember that episode where Lafayette is in the basement, and Eric lets out that inhuman growl while tearing that other man apart? Yeah, he does that.

He's not affectionate at first, especially not in public. If he does hold you it is because you managed to piss him off by talking to other vampires at Fangtasia. So he keeps you where he knows nobody will come after you: in his lap.

Man is probably touch starved. Please offer him a hug when you're alone. It'll be strange for him at first but he secretly loves it.

I think his primary love languages are mostly acts of service and quality time. He wants you to worship the ground he walks on, much like he does you.

Passionate kisses. Rough sex. It's rare for anything to be slow or gentle with him.

He is down for anything really. Just say the word.

Listen, he's not a gentleman. Not unless you explicitly ask for it. He's gonna be rough with almost everything. But he tries for you.

You can try to take control if you want... but just know you're not actually in control. He's just offering you an opportunity to feel like you are.

The moment you get a little too cocky, he'll remind you that he is the thousand year old vampire. He overpowers you easily.

He wants you to become a vampire, but doesn't say anything at first. He actually starts to value your humanity. It keeps him grounded.

That doesn't change the fact that you can't stay human forever. In your current state you are simply too fragile. It was too easy for you to be ripped away from him.

He won't turn you yet, though. He'll wait until you're ready, or until he has no choice.

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort

Eric is the only being that has managed to capture and keep Pam's attention. So your relationship was a slow burn made in hell.

At first she only saw you as another pathetic human that stuck their nose in vampire business too much. You were one of Sookie's dearest friends, and one that seemed to always be involved in her foolish antics.

Much like Sookie, you sympathize with vampires. You actually started to visit Fangtasia as a casual guest.

That's how you managed to capture Pam's attention. Your regular visits always seemed to spark something that resembled joy in her.

Your personality meshed well with hers. Pam is a smart-ass and even more cunning. Your dark humor and equally witty personality amused her.

Eventually you two developed a sort of... arrangement. You offered her your blood, and sex of course, and she offered you protection from the degenerates at Fangtasia.

She did find your blood quite tasty, so she agreed to this.

She claimed you. So nobody else could touch you. Eric didn't care as long as you didn't distract her from her duties.

After some months of seeing each other, Pam started to realize that she was becoming way too attached to you.

It was almost as if she was... in love? No, absolutely not.

She was harsh with you for some time, but eventually started to warm up.

Her primary love languages are acts of service and gift giving. Shower her with quality makeup, jewelry and other gifts. She loves being spoiled.

She'll do the same for you, so expect some rather pricey gifts.

When it comes to sex she prefers being dominant, but if you ask nicely she may let you take that role instead.

Will praise and degrade you at the same time. Just be a good pet for her, yeah?

I feel like she would want to turn you into a vampire asap. She doesn't like knowing that you could die from almost anything.

You don't mind, though. You quite like the idea of being a vampire.

Godric

Godric is one of the few vampires who holds some level of compassion towards humans. So, I feel like it wouldn't take as much for him to fall in love with one.

This compassion is, however, a result of being two thousand years old. He's had a lot of time to get around, but somehow I'm convinced he's never been in love like that.

Sure, he knows something like love for his progenies. But romantic? I just don't think that's something he thought about until recently. It would probably take him some time to recognize what he's feeling.

You met the night Sookie was held hostage by the Fellowship of the Sun. You had arrived with Eric to save him and Sookie.

Godric was intrigued by your compassion for vampires. You? A human, there to help save him? It was almost too good to be true, but then again some could say the same about his compassion towards humans.

You were with them at his house that night, celebrating his return. He had been watching you; how you mingled with the vampires as if they were human. You didn't give anybody permission to drink from you, much to Godric's pleasure.

When the suicide bomber attacked, he shielded you. The impact still hurt but you were free of any life-threatening injuries.

In return, you talked him out of meeting the true death. You stood with him on the top of that roof and convinced him that although things are hard, and he has a lot to atone for, there is still much to live for (even if he technically isn't alive).

He claimed you to protect you from other vampires after that. He knew how brutal and beast-like many vampire are. Most understood what it means to claim a human though, so if they knew you were Godric's they wouldn't touch you.

Deep talks. I feel like over time he'd open up about some of the things from his past that bothers him, and how his mental health is. You always listened and reassured him that he has changed for the better.

The only other vampire he would trust to be alone with you is Eric. Eric wouldn't dare touch what is Godric's and often finds himself looking after you when Godric is too busy with vampire stuff.

Quality time and words of affirmation would be his love languages. Please please please shower him with compliments and reassurance. He won't admit it in front of others but he loves it.

Honestly he's sweet all around. In all scenarios. He worships the ground you walk on and will treat you like royalty. That means in bed too.

He's constantly afraid of losing you. As much as he loves your humanity, he's painfully aware of how fragile you are in your current state.

In his two thousand years Godric has developed a great deal of patience and self-control, but the moment you are threatened by another vampire or otherwise non-human... he's not afraid to showcase what he's capable of.

He would never turn you unless you want him to. Even then, I feel like you would really need to convince him that you want that. Honestly you may have to wait until he is ready, because he is conflicted with the idea.

#true blood #true blood x reader #true blood fanfic #eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfic #vampire #vampire x reader #vampire x human

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bogleech · 10 months

Note

While the hosts as spaceships thing is cool I've always been fascinated by parasites (and other things that live in and on animals since some are beneficial or benign, like gut bacteria and those eyelash mites [though those might technically be parasites? I'm not clear what makes the difference between a harmless parasite and a Guy Who Just Lives On You]) because they make one recontextualize animals as environments and ecosystems in their own right. You are an ecosystem, your dog is an ecosystem, every person and animal you meet is an ecosystem, there are other animals that can and will and sometimes do view you as a hospitable, just right place to live, it amazes me, I am like a desert, plain, or forest, there are creatures that would choose no other place to live than me (which is unfortunate with harmful parasites but AMAZING with the benign/beneficial things that reside on a body, like wow those things wouldn't want to be anywhere else, how nice for both of us)

Yep the majority of life on Earth in terms of total species as well as population numbers is symbiotic in or on other living thing's bodies, and parasitism is the most common form of symbiosis! So mainly we're a planet of very very tiny creatures who mostly have to live inside the mighty titan monsters who can magically live in just the dirt and water. Beneficial body friends are called mutual symbiotes and what they do is mutualism or mutual symbiosis, while sneaky ones that eat you are doing parasitic symbiosis, and guys who are just there for the ride and don't make a big difference are commensal symbiotes. But the lines ARE blurry to the point that for a lot of species we can't even make a meaningful distinction at all. There are some things that feed on their host for instance but they're so small in comparison they don't cause any noticeable harm, so does that make them commensal? How do we decide the cut-off point? Sometimes a commensal creature does feed on something from the host, but it's not something the host usually needs, UNLESS the commensals become overpopulated. For instance, mites that usually eat harmless amounts of extra skin oil can sometimes boom in number until they're taking *too much* skin oil, causing psoriasis! Did they "become" parasitic, then?! Lice are considered ectoparasitic (external parasites) because they breed directly on the host's body and feed on blood. But fleas come and go from their host, raising their young in the surrounding environment, so are they true parasites? Vampire bats and mosquitoes drink blood but they never spend any time living ON another animal, so some in biology have started calling those "micropredators" instead of parasites. It gets extra confusing with "parasitoids," like wasps. We think of a parasite as something that feeds on another animal long-term, without killing it, but parasitic wasp larvae have to kill the host to mature, and that's why they get called "parasitoid" or "parasite-like," which isn't considered a really technical distinction. Maybe we should think of them as a predator, but the adult wasp doesn't *eat* the host, the "parasitic" larva just consumes enough of the host to finally kill it. How slowly does something have to kill its prey to be a predator vs. a parasitoid vs. a true parasite?! Nobody can agree!

#biology #animals

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 4 months

Text

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 7: Rogue Desire

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6.5k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience}

The library is dim except for the oil lamp casting its snug ochre radiance, illuminating the page you’re reading. The window here is forever shuttered and draped to keep the sun off the assorted books and tomes, making you feel safe. Well, as safe as you can feel while sharing quarters with Astarion. Your fingers rub the harsh, bumpy surface of the book's old cover as your eyes feast on page after page.

“What are you reading?”

You close the book momentarily to let Astarion get a look at the cover.

“Ah,” he smiles, “I lent you that some time ago. Did I not?”

You nod, “I never got to finish it.”

Astarion lays on the lounge beside you, “Well, what do you think of it so far?”

You cock your brow at him, and your nose crinkles, “It doesn’t exactly strike me as the type of book you would read.”

He laughs, “Why’s that?”

“It’s well written, and there are gory bits, but it seems to boil down to a love story, and I can’t imagine you reading romance.”

“Do you think me incapable of romance, my dear? I was romancing people before you were alive.”

You smirk at him, “I’m positive you can feign romance exuberantly. I can’t imagine you being truly romantic, though.”

He waves dismissively, “What’s the difference? It’s all a show, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, but one has true feelings behind it, which makes it romantic. It’s not the “show,” as you say.”

He chuckles, “This is starting to sound an awful lot like a challenge, and I do love a good challenge.”

You frown, “I’m sure Elowyn would love a demonstration.”

He scoffs, “You said there must be true feelings behind it.”

What does that mean?

Does he even feel anything anymore?

Questions you want to ask him but choose not to because you don’t want to know the answers.

Astarion looks around the room, “Why do you read in here all the time? I thought you would be out in the courtyard, or at least in a room with a window. You used to love the sun,” he muses with a dreamy, faraway guise.

“I liked the sun. No one loves the sun more than you do."

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” his mouth twitches, “You and I used to watch the sunrise together often.”

“That was before,” you sigh at the memories, “This is now.”

He looks around anxiously while rubbing his hands together, “We could again if you wanted to.”

“I’m frightened that you will get angry with me, and in that rage, you’ll cease protecting me,” you retort bluntly.

His brows furrow with a resigned sigh, “Do you think you will ever trust me again?”

“Do you want me to?”

He sits upright and looks at you intensely, “Indeed, I do.”

Why? Why does it matter to him if I trust him or not?

Trust is a luxury I can’t afford.

“You have your work cut out for you then.”

He chuckles, “It’s a good thing we have an eternity ahead of us.”

Unless you kill me.

Biting your tongue, you swallow that retort. Astarion has been remarkably pleasant for several days and seems more himself than you can recall since he became the Vampire Ascendant. You’re not keen on upsetting him for something so silly and becoming reacquainted with the version of him that lurks in his ire.

“Why did you recommend the book to me?”

He glowers at you playfully, “I have no doubt you will figure it out sooner or later.”

So, there is a reason.

“You could just tell me,” you purr.

“Darling, where is the fun in that?”

Astarion stands and kisses the top of your head. Running his finger along the books, he picks one, “I will be reading in the courtyard, in the sun I love so much according to you, if you would like to join.”

You give him a curt nod, but once he’s left the room, a small smile meanders its way across your lips. Astarion having the ability to walk in the sun safely for the rest of his days after living centuries in the dark was one of the reasons you had helped him with the ritual. You didn’t want to be the one to damn him to an eternity of darkness as a spawn. As far as reasons go, you know it wasn’t a good one compared to the cost, but what’s done is done, and the reasons, good or bad, don’t matter now.

Letting your eyes roam the page of text, you try to distract yourself with the story, but your mind keeps drifting to Astarion, the courtyard, and the sun. Astarion asking if you could ever trust him again confuses you, and admitting he wants you to only mystifies you further.

Why does he want or care about my trust?

Could I ever trust him again?

You’re surprised by how much you long to trust him again. There had been significant trust between you at one point, but that utter conviction got you to this spot. When Astarion had Cazador kneeling before him, he said he knew what he was doing and asked you to trust him, and you did so blindly. Thus, assisting in turning him into whatever it is he is now.

I should have known better.

Closing your book, you descend the staircase on shaky legs. The mere thought of going and sitting in the sun still strikes terror into you. You’re still adjusting to having windows again. More than once, Astarion has caught you attempting to slink past the window, staying out of the sun as much as possible, or just standing there staring at it apprehensively.

He would giggle at you and make his silly, taunting quips, but he would also comfort you and tell you that you were safe with him, at least when it came to the sun.

As long as he’s not angry.

The door to the courtyard is open, and the bright mid-morning sun washes over the dark wooden flooring. Astarion sits on a bench bathed in the golden light, eyes down, skimming the page of the tome. He looks at ease and happy, and you can’t help but smile to yourself and cherish that view. Glancing at the rays warming the floor, you swallow your growing doubt.

Trust has to start somewhere. He will have no chance if I never give him one.

“You’re safe, sweetheart,” he coos without looking up from the page.

“Promise?”

Astarion stands, puts the book down and comes to the doorway with a tender smile, holding his hand out to you, “I promise. Come.”

Biting your lower lip, you slide your hand into his. Astarion coercers your body to move forward out into the courtyard with gentle force. Paving stones warm your bare feet as they pad along the ground, and the sun’s heat permeates your cold skin.

This is the first time you’ve seen this place in daylight, and it looks substantially less foreboding. At night, the courtyard’s high stone walls cause it to appear small and closed off. In this light, it seems open and pleasant.

A well-groomed tree towers off in one corner, providing some shade. The green leaves flutter in the slight breeze. Another bench sits under the willowy branches.

Astarion gently twists your arm, forcing you to pirouette as if you were dancing an elegant courtly dance, and you giggle at his playfulness.

He rests his forehead against yours, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Gods, he’s so close.

As it often does around him, your ability to be rational and keep yourself grounded slips at his proximity. You can hear his heart beating and smell the bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy you’ve come to love.

You’ve felt frozen inside, numb, for so long, but his touch reawakens your purpose and thaws the ice that has solidified your fiery spirit and kept it subdued in the void his absence left.

“I missed you, you know. When you left,” he whispers.

Tears threaten to spring to your eyes at the authentic vulnerability, and your hands grasp Astarion’s arms. Inhaling a long, shuddering breath, you attempt to regain the plummeting authority over your body.

Astarion holds your waist tenderly with the same firm protectiveness you remember. You keep trying to convince yourself the man you loved died that night, that Astarion is gone, but here he is, standing before you.

Is this him, though? I still don’t know.

Astarion uses his index finger to bring your eyes to the vivid scarlet of his, which are staring at you with a searing ardour. You’re paralyzed by that gaze, carried away by the deluge of instinct and longing coalescing.

“Can I kiss you, Astarion?”

He smirks, “Little love, I thought you would never ask.”

His lips meet yours, and your eyes flutter shut. Your body wilts into his as if drawn in by his gravitational pull. You let yourself drown in him. Your senses scatter, and you’re swept up in his undertow.

His tongue persuades your lips to part, and he skillfully traverses your mouth. You purposefully find one of his fangs, and you run it delicately over your tongue, causing a shallow wound that weeps blood. He growls as the taste of you detonates his hungering desire.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I love it when you do that."

You smile against his lips. You know it drives him crazy, and that’s precisely the point. You want to fill him with you; claim him as he has claimed you. You want him to be addicted to you so he can think of no one else.

Astarion bucks his hips into you, and you grind yourself against his hard length greedily. You clench at the delicious friction against your swelling flesh and whimper demandingly. A deep growl in his chest vibrates against you as his hand ravenously roams over the contours of your body.

You let your splayed hand coast from the taut muscles of his abdomen to his chest lazily, savouring his silky, soft skin on your fingertips. His chest heaves under your hand, and you can feel the rapid, excited thumping of his heart.

Astarion grabs your thighs and hauls you up. Reflexively, you wrap your legs around his hips, securing yourself to him.

“Perhaps we should take this indoors, yes?”

You giggle, “Astarion, are you shy? I thought you enjoyed being the centre of attention.”

He kisses your neck, “I plan to make you scream my name until your throat is hoarse. Would you like everyone to hear your wanton incoherent cries?”

Even though you’re more than accustomed to his alluring taunts, you still feel the heat rising to your face. Thankfully, you’re dead, and your skin can’t redden.

“And if I did? Perhaps they would learn something,” you tease flirtatiously.

He chuckles while putting you down once you’re safely hidden in the manor, “Darling, the prudes of the upper city would surely perish on the spot if they saw what I’m about to do to you.”

Gods, yes.

Your walls spasm and clench at the carnal depravity that courses through your thoughts in vivid splendour. You tug his shirt out of his breeches, and he pulls it off, anticipating your request. His fingers undo the ties of your shirt, and he slips it off. Those hooded red eyes brimming with lust consume the sight of you gluttonously.

“You’re perfect,” he purrs deeply.

Your chest swells and falls as you pant purposeless air. For so long, you’ve felt fear, loneliness, hunger or nothing at all, but right now, you’re high on the love and desire overflowing in you, and you refuse to give it up.

You throw yourself at him in desperation to keep this moment alive. His lips meet yours with the same dire need. Your fingers curl into the white curls at the nap of his neck while your other hand undoes the ties that keep his pants secured to his waist.

His thumb traces the lower curve of your breast, and you groan, feeling your nipple already harden in anticipation of his touch. His fingers graze the sensitive peak. Your body quivers, nerves humming as liquid lightning rolls down your spine, and your clit pulses in tempo with his teasing fingers.

“Needy thing, aren’t you? How long has it been since you’ve been touched, tasted?"

You were the last one to touch me.

This isn’t something you would like to admit to him. You don’t want him to know how hopelessly in love and devoted you are to him. Astarion knows love, and he knows how to play with it, and you don’t want to give him more ammunition to play with you like a toy.

Reaching into his pants, your fingers find them wet with pre-cum, and your mouth waters at the thought of tasting him again. You grasp his cock, and his hips jerk with a panting grunt.

“Needy thing, aren’t you,” you taunt mockingly.

His eyes narrow, hypnotizing and brimming with lust, “I know you’re skirting around the question, darling.”

Astarion’s fingers glide past your waistband and trail down in an anguishing slow progression that makes a whine slip from your lips. He parts your wet folds, skillfully avoiding the bundle of nerves that is howling for his touch.

“Hells,” he kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear, “I bet they didn’t make you this wet.”

You sag into him and sigh, “Astarion…”

He teases your swollen flesh, circling the aching border, “Did they make your body shake with need?”

The first direct touch sends a shockwave rocketing through you, and you whimper, knees buckling. You are forced to let go of your grasp on his cock and secure yourself by holding onto his arms. Astarion smirks proudly. The pads of his fingers stoke and massage, and you moan loudly. The coiling tension builds and intensifies as his tempo does.

A knock on the door startles you, and you try to jump away from him, but his arm wraps around your waist, holding you in a steadfast grip.

“Ignore it,” he barks, “we’re busy.”

Another hammering rap on the door makes Astarion growl in frustration. His brow pinches in a dark scowl.

A pleading voice muffled by the door arises, “Master Ancunin! Master Ancunin!”

Pulling away from him, your body mewls in dejected objection at the discontinuation of sensation, “I think it’s for you.”

He groans and grins seductively at you as he sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you choke in a quick breath.

“As sweet as ever, my dear. My memories did not do you justice.”

The banging on the door resounds through the manor again with the same pleading shrieks from outside. Astarion rolls his eyes while he does up the ties of his pants. Not bothering to put his shirt back on, he moves to answer the door. You take quick steps backward to remain out of sight of the visitor.

“What is it?” Astarion sneers.

“Master Ancunin. Please forgive my intrusion, but your presence is urgently required.”

“We are not set to convene until tomorrow night,” Astarion snarls with an intensely domineering inflection.

“I know, saer. I am dreadfully sorry about this violation. I throw myself at your mercy.”

Astarion sighs, “And what exactly is so urgent?”

The man’s voice hushes significantly, and you can only catch small snippets here and there, but not enough to put together what’s happening that seems to require Astarion’s attention immediately.

“WHAT?” Astarion thunders.

Despite the booming shout, the intonation in his voice is dispassionate and unexpressive. You slink further back, knowing that whatever he was told has provoked his rage.

“Go. I will be there momentarily,” he slams the door harshly, cursing under his breath, “Fuck!”

Glancing around the room, you try to find a place to hide from him. You could go back into the courtyard, but if he’s angry and he decides you’re an easy target to take it out on, he might just let you burn. The stairs to your room lay too far away and would mean crossing paths with him.

Astarion turns the corner and jumps as if surprised to see you there. His eyes meet your face, and you’re relieved the crimson pools remain warm with liquid affection.

He must see the terror illustrated on your face because he frowns sadly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re angry.”

He nods curtly, “Yes, but I am me, for now - you have nothing to fear.”

You gulp, “For now.”

Astarion runs his fingers through his hair. Whatever that man told him, it agitated him significantly.

He clears his throat, “I must go deal with this.”

He bounds up the stairs quickly to his room and must dress at a breakneck pace because he returns rapidly, fully dressed in his overelaborate coat, looking mouth-wateringly dashing.

Astarion heads for the door and tugs it open but hesitates, pivots and takes long strides toward you. Reflexively, you step back, frightened that the anger won.

Astarion kisses your forehead and the back of your hand, “I will try to be back for your lesson tonight.”

You nod, “It’s okay if you aren’t. Be careful, Astarion.”

He smiles, “As you wish, my love.”

Once Astarion is gone, you quickly run around and close all the heavy curtains, plummeting the manor into darkness. Sitting on the floor with your back against your bed, you close your eyes and reprimand yourself for letting things go so far.

Your role here is to try and figure out what’s ailing him and see if you can help him remedy it, not to continue getting closer to him, falling more in love with him.

If that’s even possible.

You wonder, though, if, by some miracle, you can find a way to conserve whatever remains of the old Astarion. Would you want to be with him then, or has the damage been done, and your relationship is doomed and wrecked beyond repair? Could you ever trust him again?

Gale is out looking for the Wish spell for you, but you ponder if you could use it to save Astarion from whatever evil plagues him. Could it be used to restore him to his previous self completely? Could it be used to turn back Ascension entirely? Would you do that to him even if it could?

Would I give up my one chance to be alive again if it meant restoring him?

You need to gather more information on what’s ailing Astarion. As well as the capabilities and limitations of the Wish spell, but you can’t tell Gale or Shadowheart that your motivations may have changed.

Where is Withers when I need him? He knew everything there was to know about souls.

You have a theory about what happens to Astarion, but it needs to be confirmed. You wonder if the Rite may have stripped away some of his soul, whether unintended or on purpose, and now the soulless part of him wars with the version that still retains the remaining bit of his soul, each contending against the other, vying for control.

You imagine the only way to figure this out is by talking to someone who deals in souls, but who? You’re still trying to work it all out.

With Astarion gone, you can finally let yourself get some much-needed rest. Laying down on your bed, you succumb quickly to your meditative state and slip into the tributary of your trance.

The walls of the Crimson Palace moan as they settle, cooling off after the hot sun beating down on them. You’ve been locked in your room all day, and those solemn whines are the only indicator you have of time.

The door to your bedroom snaps open, but you don’t even bother to look. You’re lying in bed motionless, staring at the ceiling of your pitch-black room as you have been doing since he locked you in here in the first place. Astarion keeps you corralled in here like an animal. You are not to leave without his approval, and if you do, the consequences are dire.

“My consort,” he drawls as he lights a candle.

“What do you want,” you say monotone.

“Get dressed, darling. I have need of you tonight.”

“No, thank you.”

“This is not a request,” he sneers, “You will come.”

“What are you going to do? Drag me there?”

“Oh, pet, I will do so much worse.”

“I’m not going,” you mutter scornfully.

Astarion grabs you harshly by the arm and drags you down the hall to the kennels, “You do remember this room, yes? Do not make me put you in here, strap you to that device, and teach you why you will obey me.”

He drags you back to your room as you pull and fight him with everything you have, but he merely laughs at your pathetic attempts. He throws you onto your bed.

“Get dressed,” he commands, “Wear the blue one I have laid out for you. We are going to a party, my treasure.”

Your fingers linger over the silky blue material he laid out for you. The dress is glamorous, you suppose, but nothing you would ordinarily adorn. The gown is far too low in the front and back and leaves very little to the imagination.

Whatever he has planned for you tonight, you don’t want to know, but if you disobey, he will put you in the kennels, and you don’t want to visit that place again.

You pull the dress on. The neckline hangs down below your belly button, and the back is just as low. A long slit up one side allows a view of your leg. You cringe at the idea of wearing something like this in public.

Astarion returns promptly, dressed lavishly and looking far too handsome, “You look exquisite. This will do perfectly.”

Astarion escorts you to some overly sumptuous estate in the upper city. The ballroom is packed full of the city’s nobles and high-ranking officials.

“Remember to smile, pet. They need to believe we’re a happy couple."

You scoff at him, “I don’t care what they think.”

Astarion grabs your face harshly, “You WILL smile, or you will be punished. Do I make myself clear?”

You rip your face out of his hand and glower at him, “Fuck you.”

"Maybe if you’re a very good girl tonight, I will permit it.”

He introduces himself around the room, using his practiced manipulations to make connections, but he never introduces you unless someone pays you any attention, which they generally don’t. The only attention they pay is practically undressing you with their ogling eyes, and it makes your skin crawl.

Astarion directs you to a quiet side of the room, “Do you see that man in the maroon jacket?”

“What about him?”

Astarion grins sadistically, “I need you to go over there and distract him by any means necessary.”

You gasp, “Excuse me. What?”

He snickers, “You will distract him by any means necessary. Take him to a bed for all I care, as long as you get him out of the way.”

He wants me to do what?

“I will not!”

You yell it loud enough to gain the attention of some of the partygoers nearby, who give you awkward glances.

Astarion scowls at you, “That was very naughty, pet. Go now, do as I ask, and I will consider letting that little display slide.”

If I refuse, it’s the kennels.

You lean close to him and whisper, “If you try and make me do that, I’m going to make a big scene and embarrass you in front of all your new, very important friends.”

He leers at you threateningly, “Last chance.”

I choose the kennels over my body offered in exchange for whatever he’s planning.

You scream, loud and resounding, “No!”

The high pitch of your voice echoes through the entire room, thanks in part to the absurdly high ceilings. The once loud laughter and voices cut off into an awkward, hushed silence as all eyes in the room snap to you and Astarion.

Astarion plays it off perfectly with a warm smile, “Of course, my love. If you do not wish to go, we won’t.”

He’s going to have to do damage control later.

Astarion grabs your hand and squeezes it so hard you whimper while he walks you out of that damn party with the excuse that you are not feeling well. He trembles with anger, and you know you’re in for it when he gets you back to the kennels.

Back in the safety of the Crimson Palace, you burn him slightly and try to run to your room, though you know it’s little use. He disperses into gas and appears in front of you before you can make it even halfway there.

He grabs you, screaming in your face, “You dreadful little wretch! Now, I am forced to have to teach you a lesson.”

“Astarion, stop. You don’t have to do anything!”

He laughs like someone deranged, “How else will you learn to obey?”

“I will never obey,” you spit hatefully.

“We will see about that, my unruly, little spawn.”

He drags you through the halls while you scream, cry and beg him to stop. Your sandals skid across the wooden floor, shrieking as your feet try to find purchase.

The kennels smell like fetid blood, and you cringe as the scent assaults your nostrils. Astarion chains you to the wall, so you have no choice but to stand while he strips you bare.

He laughs menacingly, “You will learn to obey me, my consort.”

Astarion’s crazed laughing resonates through the room as he blows out all the candles, submerging you in pure, inky darkness. The door closes, locks and you’re left in silence.

You know you could get yourself out of these chains, out of this room, but the consequences if you do would be far more dire than being left in this miserable place naked and alone.

If you spend days, weeks or months isolated, starving, and stripped in the dark, you have no idea.

The sound of a beating heart starts to pulse on the outskirts of your trance, and the side of your bed depresses, rousing you from the memory. Your pillow is damp from tears shed as you were forced to relive that barbarity.

“It’s just a dream,” Astarion soothes, rubbing your arm.

No, a memory.

Does he even remember doing that or the many other similar atrocities he committed against you? If he does, he’s made no indication of it. One day, you will have to ask him, but you don’t feel like exploring that particular abyss of suffering with him right now.

You nod, “Yeah, just a dream.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Astarion glances at the wet spot on your pillow, “It seems to have upset you.”

“No, that’s not necessary. Did you deal with whatever you were summoned for, Master Ancunin?"

He smirks at your teasing, “In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“You killed someone, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head and shrugs, “Perhaps multiple people. I cannot be sure."

“You don’t remember?”

He stares at his hands, “No. More often than not, I recall nothing.”

Does that mean he doesn’t recollect the kennels or the other horrid things he did to me?

“You lost yourself again?”

He sighs, running his hand over his face, “I think so.”

Glancing at his clothes, you register that he’s not wearing the same thing he left in, “You changed?”

“I did.”

He must have been drenched in blood if he bathed and changed before coming home.

“Are you okay right now, or should I be throwing myself at you?”

He giggles, but it has a crestfallen ring, “You can always throw yourself at me, love. But I’m fine. I’m not angry anymore.”

You wrap him in an embrace anyway. His demeanour is melancholic and subdued, and you wonder just what in the nine Hells happened when he was out to have him coming home so miserable.

Astarion leans into you, the corner of his mouth quirking in a small smile and sighs, “Thank you. Should we go out and continue your lessons?”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, “I am rather hungry.”

He pats your leg, “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

The forest is tranquil, with nothing but a light wind rustling the canopy of the lanky trees. A crescent moon hangs high in the sky, but not much of its light makes it to the ground, making the colours of the forest appear more subdued than usual.

“Gods,” Astarion clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “your footwork is truly an atrocity.”

You roll your eyes at him, groaning, “I’m trying!”

“If this is you trying, darling, the realm will end before I can even teach you this.”

“Well, maybe if I had a better teacher!”

He inspects his nails absently, “You’re more than welcome to try and find a more adequate educator.”

Ugh.

“Can you just tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

“It would be shorter to list the things you’re doing right,” he quips.

“Astarion!”

He strolls a slow circle around you with his fingers on his chin. His studious gaze is so intense you can virtually feel his eyes stroking your skin. Shadows skirt handsomely, if a little forebodingly, across the angular planes of his face.

You watch him heedfully, eyes tracking his course as he stalks around you. You’re always on alert with him. It’s hard to know what will set him off and what won’t, and you can’t afford to be caught off guard. Even so, a part of you luxuriates in these moments with him, and you admonish yourself for it.

“Where did I say you should keep most of your weight?”

“In my heels.”

“Ah, so you have learned something,” he tuts, “and where is your weight now?”

Your eyes cast heavenward, and you sigh, “I’m guessing not in my heels.”

“Correct. You’re tottering on your toes. Again,” he scolds, “Shift your weight. You’ll have far superior balance.”

You focus on your body and how it’s positioned. Your centre of gravity is displaced, and you’re rocking slightly from your toes to the balls of your feet and back like a blade of grass in a gentle wind. With effort, you manage to transfer your weight into your heels. The stance feels unnatural to you, and you struggle to keep yourself in it.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “Now, lower your hips. You’re still standing too tall. Everything will see you coming a mile away.”

The muscles of your thighs groan as you try to descend further into the crouch. You’ve been at this for hours, and your body is starting to drone fatigue.

“Lower.”

“Hells, Astarion! How much lower?”

Astarion crouches behind you and places his hands on your hips. Applying a gentle force, he pushes you further into the crouch. The muscles in your legs begin to twitch and tremble, and your balance starts to wobble.

He rises and walks around you again before crouching down in front of you with a cocked brow, “You’re very unsteady.”

Astarion reaches out and pushes your shoulder, causing you to overcorrect and fall forward onto him, knocking him over in the process. Something tells you he allowed you to push him flat to his back on the ground. He could have easily moved out of the way and watched your face grind into the earth.

Regardless, you find yourself sprawled out on top of him while you laugh loudly.

“Are all Sorcerers this unlawfully graceless?”

You smirk, “Do all Rogues possess such a smart mouth?”

He lays his head on the grassy ground and rolls his eyes at you with a grin, “Sassy girl.”

You move to push yourself up, but his arm comes around your waist, bracing you to him, and Astarion pushes the hair out of your eyes, “I really did miss you when you were gone, you know.”

Can I believe him? Can I afford to let myself believe him?

You swallow your rising sorrow, “Do you still feel emotions, Astarion?”

His vivid scarlet eyes impale you and imbue you with a profound solace that spreads through your body like a cascading wave of warmth, prickling your skin.

“You make me feel,” Astarion’s sombre, earnest intonation causes a breath to hitch in your throat.

Feel what - Obsession? Possession? Dominance? You want to ask him, but you don’t, unsure if you’re ready to hear the answer.

His thumb traces your lower lip, and that familiar rush of electricity jolts through your body and twists into your stomach. You trace his jaw with your index finger, leaning in and ghosting the velvety smoothness of his lips with your own.

Gods. I’m losing it.

Astarion presses into your invitation, and your lips mould together, charged with impassioned longing. His hand meanders into the back of your shirt, and you bask in the lazy, comforting strokes of his fingers against your skin. Using your tongue, you coax his mouth open, and he groans, giving you the access you crave.

You can feel your walls spasm and flutter eagerly, silently imploring him to fill you. Gyrating your hips into his bulging erection, he hisses as your swollen, aching clit, gorges on the mouthwatering friction. You whimper against him as your body cries for the release you were denied earlier.

Your eyes pop open momentarily and take in the forest that surrounds you. Memories of the forest the first time rush forward, and you push yourself back abruptly.

Astarion sits upright quickly and scans the surroundings, confused with your retreat, “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Not here,” you pant.

His brows furrow for a second, and he looks around. Comprehension eases his features, “Oh, come now, was I that bad in the forest last time?” he pouts dramatically, “I didn’t hear any complaints at the time.”

“Bad?” You shake your head, “No, Astarion. Those memories are sad.”

His brow cocks, “Sad?”

You run your fingers through your hair, “I should have known what you were up to.”

Once it rolls off your tongue, you wonder if you will regret telling him this. You’ve carried this guilt around since he confessed in the first place. He manipulated you because he felt he had to secure your devotion, thus establishing his safety.

If only you had been less infatuated with him, you might have seen through that guise and been able to stop him from putting himself through that again.

Astarion stands, concern creasing his face, “Love-”

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

You cut him off, “Not here, Astarion.”

He nods curtly, and you begin the walk back to the estate. Once you get to the Lower City, Astarion offers you his hand to hold. It comforts you that he will stop you if you try to hurt someone. You’re not sure if he does it for your benefit or his. After all, if you did lose it and kill someone, you could end up exposing him, a risk he is unlikely to take.

The city streets are mostly quiet at this hour. The only sound you hear is your footsteps thwacking on the rigid ground until a random heartbeat starts repeating in your ears. You don’t give it much thought until her voice drifts out of the darkness. You recognize that repulsively sweet, harmonic tone.

“Astarion, darling! It’s been ages!”

Elowyn.

The woman saunters from the outdoor sitting area of a nearby inn. Her mulberry hair is pulled back, revealing her dainty face and ever-so-increasingly tempting neck. She wears a green dress that makes the sapphire of her eyes stand out.

What is she even doing out here at this time?

You clench your jaw. Something is off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on what. She has an air about her that makes your skin crawl, but it could be the utter loathing you feel for her playing tricks on you.

Astarion smiles pleasantly, “Elowyn. How lovely to see you.”

Elowyn’s eyes fall to your hand clasping his, and her eyebrows pull down into a slight, barely noticeable scowl. She leans in close, puts her hand on his chest and kisses his cheek, lingering there for far too long.

Your palms warm, and your muscles tense as your jealousy ignites the raging inferno of your temper. Elowyn smiles at you sweetly, but a hint of hostility in her eyes makes you want to relieve her of sight.

“How nice it is to see you again,” she grins brightly, “You appear to be in better shape than when I saw you last.”

Astarion’s brows pull down, “Better shape? My dear, whatever are you talking about?

Elowyn’s cordial laugh fills the air and makes you want to rip her vocal cords out, “Yes, last I saw her, she was quite drunk and heading to see you.”

Astarion thinks for a second and then chuckles, “Yes, she was quite drunk.”

He shoots you a glance and squeezes your hand, telling you to play along. You roll your eyes and scoff contemptuously as if you were going to inform this weasel anything about you or your life.

“She was quite rude to me that night, Astarion dear,” Elowyn sighs dramatically.

Is this bitch seriously trying to get Astarion to hurt me?

Will he?

He smirks dubiously, “Was she? How utterly awful.”

Elowyn pouts, “I do hope you will teach her a lesson. She threatened to kill me after all. She must learn respect.”

Respect? Her? HA! Never.

The notion is so entirely ridiculous that a snide snicker escapes your lips as your face contorts into a threatening grimace.

Astarion stares at her, scowling, “Watch yourself, Elowyn. Do not make me remind you of your place.”

Elowyn’s carefree demeanour falters to concern at the warning intonation of Astarion’s voice. She swallows hard and forces her dainty face to dress in an overjoyed smile, and she’s back to her usual flirtatious facade.

I wonder if she’s gotten him angry yet. If she has, how did she live through it?

Her hand is splayed on his chest, and she presses herself further into him, “I have missed you so. I came by the palace the other night to see if you wouldn’t like some company .”

Company? Ugh. As bad as entertainment.

You scoff at her loudly and try to pull out of Astarion’s grip, but he only holds on tighter.

You frown at him, “Let me go, Astarion. I wish to leave."

“No, you stay.”

“Let. Me. Go,” you growl threateningly.

This is not a request. It’s a command. You may pay dearly for taking this tone with him later, but right now, you don’t care; you would rather endure his wrath a thousand times over than spend another minute in the company of Elowyn.

Watching her put her hands all over him stokes the fire burning in your blood to unfathomable temperatures. As your fury increases, so does the likelihood that you reduce her to a pile of ash.

Why do I care so much?

I left him.

“It seems your pet spawn would like to give us some privacy. Let her go, my sweet Astarion.”

Pet spawn?

Thank you to everyone who reads/likes/comments/reblogs!

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

PS: I hate Elowyn - excuse me while I go break something to get over writing her.

#astarion x reader #ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #bg3 #astarion x you #astarion smut #fangs and fractured hearts

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harmlessghosty · 2 months

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Saw the vamp!touchstarved character braunrote and I offer my opinions:

Vampire Vere would be ruthless before he really falls in love with reader. He's greedy and wouldn't think twice about draining someone. But tbh I think when he gets close/serious with reader he'd still be greedy and messy and shit but he'd drink readers blood like it's fine wine. He gets his main fix from other victims but really savours reader. Expect it to be extremely bloody tho, he likes it to look like a crime scene xD

Leander for sure tries to kinda hide it. Not hardcore, bit he tries not to tell EVERYONE. He won't go our of his way but also you wouldn't know by just looking at him. I also think he'd be hesitant to drink from his SO and would make it way romantic, or at least he'd try

Mhin would go out of their way to hide that their a vampire. Would NEVER EVER dream of drinking from a person. They and up having to do it but they won't be happy. Also if their SO asked for them to drink their blood Mhin would refuse 100 times before agreeing. Feels very bad that they actually enjoyed it.... Might have gone a bit overboard too (vere did find out and tease them to hell and back fs)

I don't have much on Ais and Kuras rn cause... Brain empty

VAMPIRE TOUCHSTARVED BRAINROT, LET’S GOOOO! I love love LOVE all of your headcanons. Absolutely love them.

—

Vampire Vere would definitely not think twice about murder. MC would find him dabbing at his crimson lips with bloodstained, monogrammed handkerchiefs more often than not. And when he wants to feed from his beloved? It’s an entire show he puts on. They get a candlelit room, a nice hot meal, tons of fluffy pillows and blankets…the whole nine yards, before he leans so close, his breath runs across the nape of their neck. “You smell delightful,” he whispers, a firm kiss pressing to their skin. “I’m sure you don’t mind that I eat after all of this preparation I’ve done for you, hm?”

Leander DEFINITELY tries to hide it. There are rumors, of course, swirling around Eridia, but no one really knows what’s true and what’s not. Turns out, being a contracted killer really helps conceal his vampiric identity! He can easily do away with bodies and no one will ask questions. Why do criminals keep appearing with two holes in the same spot on their neck? Weird. Maybe someone should hire Leander to look into that and find the culprit…and of course, he’ll take MC along for the journey, which seems a bit more roundabout than it should be. If he needs to feed during the trip, then perhaps they’re a good source of sustenance. After all, does it matter if his beloved knows his secret? They won’t tell a soul unless they’re trying to get themselves mysteriously killed too…

Mhin would never drink from a person…unless they’re absolutely starving to death. Even then, I imagine it to be a moment of disgust with themself—retching and vomiting the first few times they feed, then admitting they need to drink blood for their survival and doing it as humanely as possible. They knock out their victims and only drink until the hunger has barely subsided. They choose spots beneath clothes where marks could be mistaken for bug bites. Mhin struggles to admit they like MC’s blood more than anyone else’s; they really wish they didn’t, but they can’t get enough of it, to the point that they find it difficult to sleep beside them at night without absentmindedly running their fangs along MC’s skin. They’re just so hungry around their partner. Maybe…just a little sip…

Ais is a voracious beast and doesn’t try to hide his vampiric nature even a little bit. Everyone knows he’s dangerous, and everyone avoids him like the plague. And naturally, Ais with Vere is…horrifying. There’s a lot of begging for him to give mercy and let them live, but he’s no fool. If he lets too many of his victims live, then surely people will find a way to gang up on him. While that’s an interesting proposition, he’s not sure he wants to fight a dozen weak-ass humans when he’d much rather fight someone of his own caliper; humans are just too pathetic. When he meets MC, he’s constantly teasing them with flashes of his long fangs. “Scared? Should be, little sparrow,” he says, scrubbing dried blood off of his knuckles. He even sneaks up to feed from them, thinking MC will just be another victim, but somehow becomes smitten with their taste instead. They should be savored. It’s much more satisfying tasting them on occasion than devouring them whole so quickly.

Kuras is meticulous. He’s very much prone to drawing blood through proper means and drinking it from simple testing tubes in shot-like doses. If a patient needs a transfusion or a blood test, he’ll simply take an extra vial or two as payment. Yes, he feels guilty at first, but he can’t allow himself to starve when he needs to help the people of Eridia as a consequence of his terrible past. When MC is discovered practically bled out and armless, he makes sure to put them back together and doesn’t take a sample, not even a little, but he strongly considers it. He even has to wipe drool from his lips because they simply smell so strongly of beautiful blood. When they get closer to him and realize his true nature, he offers little more than a calm smile. “Would you like to sustain me as well, or do you prefer our current partnership instead?”

#touchstarved game #touchstarved ais #touchstarved vere #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved leander #touchstarved kuras #kuras #vere #leander #mhin #ais #vampires #ghosty’s asks #ghostywrites #touchstarved headcanons

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genshin-obsessed · 5 months

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Hey, are you thinking about making a Vampire! Cyno headcannon at some point? I really want to know how that's gonna go.

「✧」 Well, I didn't have plans but why not now? ^w^ Let's see, I'm just writing as I go so some things may seem not exactly right and it's because I didn't do too much planning beforehand. 「✧」 Btw, this isn't intended to be like... tighnari x reader x cyno, but if you wanna think of it like that, go ahead. Also, this is much longer than I intended it to be? Like I said, no plans, I just wrote and wrote and forgot to stop lol.

Vampire!Cyno

♢ Before you find out ♢

Of course, Cyno keeps his true nature a secret from everyone. The less people know about it, the less issues he'll have to deal with when it comes to answering dumb questions.

He usually tends to feed late at night when he's not necessarily "on duty". Since people know his face so well, he actually needs to do a good job at hiding it. All of his usual clothes are put away and he settles for more darker clothing, that covers all of him, and a mask to hide his face.

Cyno does his best to feed on packets of blood. He doesn't like cornering random people to drink from them- it's too personal of an act and he's not a fan of it. If it ever comes down to a situation where he does need to feed from a person directly, he tries to go for criminals and he'll ever kill them.

He's never lost control and gone crazy but in the event he does, he has a backup plan set up. He's never had to use it before and he thinks about its efficacy on a daily basis.

Normally, Cyno tries to replenish on blood supplies on a monthly basis. He acquires it without actually talking to anyone and paying large sums of mora. The blood, itself, is acquired ethically, he just keeps it for himself sometimes. There is a specific supply that's emergency only and he doesn't touch it unless he has a serious urge. BUT, in the event he's out of those and has no blood whatsoever... he has two people and only two people he'll ever go to. You or Tighnari.

Both of you have asked questions about his secret before but as far as he's aware, you two are still in the dark. He does his best to keep silent about it and doesn't leave a trace (i.e blood lying around his home, blood on his clothes, drinking any packets outside of his bathroom, etc).

Cyno cares for both of you dearly and the thought of his urges ever causing you harm makes his heart ache. He has nightmares about scenarios like that which often makes him wake up in a cold sweat. Sometimes he wonders... how dangerous is he? As the General Mahamatra, he's under his own command- when it comes to hunting down those who need a slap of justice. But with these urges... they take over. His thirst for blood commands him and he gets violent.

Uh... it's best he doesn't think about that. He's done his best to prepare to avoid that.

♢ After you find out ♢

Well, it was inevitable you and Tighnari would find out. No matter how hard Cyno tried to keep it to himself, you two were simply too close to him.

The event was... so bizarre to him. He had fed the night before and usually only fed twice a week. It was always enough. But that day, he was helping Tighnari collect samples, going as both a company and a sword (or polearm) and you just happened to be there. Everything was fine as Tighnari made his comments and collected samples with your help. Cyno helped by providing all the best jokes.

Then it hit him. Hard. His chest constricted, his throat felt dry, his vision was getting hazy and both you and Tighnari smelled delicious. His glowing red eyes looked over at the two of you as he had the sudden urge to just tackle you to the ground and drain you dry. Your voices became muffled and he could no longer make out what words were escaping from your lips.

Then, you both looked at him. He panicked, immediately backed away feeling that urge to rip you two apart and lick up every drop of blood becoming stronger. He made up an excuse and he ran. He sprinted all the way home and locked himself up, stumbling to his room, where he'd stashed his emergency blood supply. He just barely managed to rip the bag open, taking large gulps to drink down the sweet, thick blood. Some trickled down his lips, sliding down his chin and throat.

He hadn't even realized both you and Tighnari made your way into his home by pretty much breaking down the door. You'd never seen Cyno react this way and it was scary. You two ran to his room, where you heard something clatter and watched as he drank down the blood like a wild animal. It took a moment before he came to his senses. Soon, the look of horror on his face matched both of yours.

Anyway... since that day, you and Tighnari offer to help him with either acquiring the blood or just offering your own. He strictly refuses and says it's best if you two pretend as if you never even saw it. Which is... well, impossible.

But you're both a lot more supportive than he figured you'd be. Yes, you're both his closest friends but this was different. He was a clear danger to you two, especially after that day, but you two never questioned his loyalty. You two often used that same day as a defense, reminding him that even when he wanted to harm you two, he still managed to run off. He still has his reservations though.

Cyno doesn't drink blood in front of you. He still prefers to sit in the bathroom and sip it slowly as he takes the time to think about whatever he needs to. He doesn't really like answering questions, the biggest being why he doesn't turn to ash in the sun, but it doesn't hurt to educate you two. It's a myth. Vampires don't burst into flames in the sun.

You two have asked about drinking blood directly and it actually embarrasses him a little. He explained he usually drinks from packets and avoids biting into a person if he can. Of course, that spurred the "so like does Alhatiham look delicious?" to which he just rolls his eyes and says "hell no".

He might drink your blood though. If you ask nicely enough.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno #genshin cyno x reader #🖊─ pocky’s writings #genshin impact x gender neutral reader

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lavenderfluorite14 · 3 months

Text

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 2: Gift

Summary: Tav gave Astarion a gift. Astarion tries to pay her back.

Chapter Rating: 18+, ❤️‍🔥 Blood drinking, Grinding, Frottage, Making Out, Hurt/Comfort, Angstarion, Astarion Character Study and everything that entails, PTSD, Descriptive Explorations of Emotional and Sexual Trauma Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 1.

The morning dawned pink and rosy, the sun a bloody jewel in the sky. Tav would be waking up soon and Astarion was putting the finishing touches on his apology. He would be concerned, tender. He would be apologetic but not obsequious, and this would never happen again. Unless Tav wanted it to.

Would she want it to? She had certainly been willing, in the beginning at least. But how would she feel the morning after? Astarion wasn’t used to mornings after. And he had been…rougher with her than he had intended. Shame flooded through him when he remembered how he had lost himself in her like a wild beast. But she had felt so good. Astarion didn’t know if he had ever felt this good before.

He felt happy. That was the word, happy. He must have felt happy once, a lifetime ago. But dwelling on ghosts he could no longer remember and who hadn’t bothered to remember him never led anywhere.

He fully understood now why Cazador had deprived them of good blood. Seven full, strong vampire spawn could find a way to overpower a cruel master. But seven malnourished, pathetic slaves were too busy trying to survive the day to plot a coup. Astarion despised how Cazador could cloak his sadism in calculated logic. He could bash Cazador’s skull in.

Tav stumbled out of her tent, clearly still delirious. She had donned her leather jerkin as usual, but she had also conspicuously wound a strip of cloth around her throat and tucked it into her collar, wrapping her neck snugly in the fabric. Blearily, she scanned the camp until she saw him lounging by his tent. Astarion steeled himself.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” He said lowly, so the others wouldn’t hear.

“A bit woozy, but I’ll be ok,” she said sheepishly.

“It’ll pass,” he hoped.

“How do you feel?” Tav asked.

“I feel wonderful,” he preened. “And now you get to reap the benefits of a fully fed vampire.”

“This is true,” she said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight today.”

“I’ll have to put on a show for you. Now that I can fight with all my weapons.” He shot her a fanged grin. Tav laughed, a sound he realized that he was beginning to like.

“Good thing I have a front row seat, then,” she said. Tav began shifting uneasily from foot to foot. “Astarion. I know you’ve been hesitant to talk about yourself so far but we really should discuss this, ah, turn of events.” Astarion nodded stiffly. “I suppose I owe you an explanation or two."

He described the difference between a vampire and a vampire spawn and how you can become one. Tav stiffened at the implication: had he been a true vampire, last night could have gone a lot differently.

“But I thought that sunlight killed vampires?” She asked.

“Oh, it does. I should be cinders in this light. I shouldn’t be able to do a lot of things, honestly.” He went through the list: standing in the sun, entering homes uninvited, crossing running water. “As for any other quirks, well,” he chuckled, “we can figure those out in time.” He was looking forward to it. Maybe the tadpole had bestowed other latent powers.

“Well, if I can help, just ask. We are in this together.” Tav gave him a bright, warm, reassuring smile.

“Oh, you are such a sweetheart,” he deflected. Of course she would say something like that.

“Tav, what’s that around your neck?” Shadowheart called towards them. Tav’s hand flitted towards her neck instinctively, her eyes darting to Astarion. He didn’t move. He wanted to see what she would do.

“I’m just a little cold today so I found a scarf,” she said. She was covering for him. She was really covering for him. Astarion’s stomach dropped. Usually Tav was better at this.

“Tchk. We heard your carousing last night,” Lae’Zel spoke.

“Is that blood?” Wyll pointed towards the scarf, where a small patch of crimson was blooming across the fabric. Astarion licked his fangs.

“Darlings, I’m afraid I have something rather small I’ve neglected to tell you.”

“Astarion,” Tav turned towards him but he anchored his hand on the small of her back reassuringly. If he now had Tav's support then this was his best opportunity to tell them.

“It’s all right, my dear. They were going to find out eventually.” He squashed the doubt inside him into a hard little ball and cleared his throat. “I am a vampire,” Astarion announced. There was a brief moment where no one spoke.

“So be it. But if I wake with so much as a drop of blood at my throat, I will end you,” Lae’Zel growled. Duly noted.

“I trust him,” Tav interjected. “He won’t hurt us. He has had ample opportunity to do so and has instead become a strong ally.” The group paused again, sharing a glance among themselves. Gale broke the silence.

“Well, I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me sooner. I’m a pretty open-minded man, actually. But just a word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful.” What a shame.

“Vamps don’t scare me. No sense judging someone for who they are.” Karlach piped up. “’Cept devils, obviously.” He knew he liked Karlach.

“So long as there are no innocents, I am fine.” Wyll said. “And so long as you keep your fangs to yourself.” Wyll would probably be too sweet, anyway.

“A vampire?” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can live with that. We’re already monsters in the making, what’s one more. Now come here, Tav. We can’t have you leaving camp looking like that.” Shadowheart led Tav away, her healing magic already surrounding them in a soft blue glow.

But once Tav was out of earshot, the others closed ranks. “I meant it when I said no innocents, Astarion. And if you hurt Tav, you will have to answer to all of us.” Wyll said.

“Is the Blade of Frontiers already rushing to the damsel’s rescue?” Astarion scoffed. “I didn’t do anything to Tav that she didn’t sweetly ask for.”

“I don’t care what happens in your tent. But if you can’t control your bloodlust then I will control it for you,” Lae’Zel rasped, her words a heavy threat.

“Now that I no longer need to hide and we all have an understanding, we will have a perfect accord.” Astarion sniffed. “I am here in the spirit of teamwork and understanding-”

“You say all the right things Astarion, but I don’t think you mean the right things.” Gale accused. Astarion glared back, uncowed. “But either way, Tav trusts you and I will respect that decision. Just promise us there’s no more secrets.”

“I have already told you everything you need to know about me,” Astarion smiled thinly. Gale sighed disapprovingly. “Very well. I suppose I can live with that.” The group dispersed uneasily, leaving Astarion alone to finish donning his armor. Astarion released a shuddering sigh, relief flooding through him. That had gone much better than he had expected. But although they weren’t going to kill him, he had been right: his companions would never actually accept a vampire. And rightfully so, he thought bitterly.

Shadowheart had been able to close her wounds and heal her neck, but she hadn’t been able to cure Tav’s dizziness. Apparently she knew the perfect spell, but wasn’t strong enough to cast it yet. Of course.

Tav had been keeping up so far, but she wasn’t acting quite like herself. Before she had been quick with a joke and a laugh, but today she was lagging behind. She lacked her usual air of conviction when she spoke. Yet although his eye lingered on her worryingly, Astarion couldn’t bring himself to regret last night’s unexpected tryst.

She had been incredible. Delectable, even. He had known conceptually that such pleasure was possible, he’d imagined it often, but he had never physically experienced anything like that before. And now its source slept 20 feet away, snug in its own bedroll. Would she let him taste her again? Tav had been understanding and supportive of him so far, but one could never be sure.

The thought of never having Tav again made him feel cold. He could content himself with less, he had done so for centuries. He’d keep himself warm with the memory of her. And her support had theoretically opened up a veritable buffet of other dining options for him. Surely someone else would be just as delicious. He didn’t need Tav.

His eye lingered on her as they moved deeper into the Emerald Grove. Tav really was beautiful, in her own way. Cazador had demanded that they bring him only the beautiful and the strong to dine on. It was said that beauty and strength made the blood richer to the taste. Astarion could recall several times when Cazador had rejected his victims for whatever fickle reason he could concoct. He had still drained them of course, but Astarion had been punished hideously each time.

“Are your standards truly so low? You think this is beautiful, you think this is worthy of me ?”

He wouldn’t reject Tav, Astarion thought. Cazador would have been delighted if Astarion had brought her home. His gut squirmed.

The druids were awful, tedious creatures. These petty squabbles had nothing to do with him and Astarion didn’t see the point in sticking his neck out for Tieflings who would be dead in a week anyway. Especially now that he could choose whether he stuck his neck out or not. But Tav cared. So they were off to find this Halsin character. Astarion rolled his eyes.

Tav needed to rest earlier than usual today. While they were resting, Astarion wandered down to the small, sandy coastline bordering the grove and plopped down onto a rock, slouching gracefully. He just needed a quiet moment to himself. But something clinked when he sat down. Astarion craned his neck to investigate and caught a flash of gold hidden beneath the rock. Carefully, he slipped his hand underneath the rock, fishing for the trinket. He extracted it delicately, holding it up to the light. It was an amulet, carved in the Oakfather’s likeness. As Astarion turned it over, he realized that it had been imbued with a spell, Lesser Restoration, which would cure the wearer from disease, poison, paralysis, or blindness. Astarion swiftly pocketed the treasure, hoping that no one had seen him. Finders keepers.

He returned to find his companions laughing. Wyll was in the middle of regaling them with some heroic exploit of his while Tav spasmed with laughter, her body curling in on itself. Karlach, who Astarion noticed was wearing new leather armor, egged him on. No doubt the armor had been bought by Tav with the gold they had all scavenged, which seemed unfair. Why should Karlach get fine new leathers while he was dressed in rags? He had mended his doublet countless times over the years, but it was still falling apart at the seams. They probably couldn’t tell, he thought bitterly. Astarion had taken enormous pains to hide his threadbare appearance and would be mortified if anyone saw through his embroidered facade, but it still stung that no one did. “Get over here, Fangs!” Karlach called. “You’ve GOT to hear this. Wyll, tell it again.”

“So there I was, surrounded on all sides-“ It was surprisingly a pretty funny story. Wyll had lived a full, interesting life in such a short amount of time. His ragged scars only accentuated his dashing charm and handsome face. Somehow Wyll could make a stone eye twinkle with warmth and sincerity. Despite his own alleged beauty, Astarion knew he could never compete with that. And Tav looked at him with such open fondness and admiration. He ran his thumb over the amulet in his pocket, soothed by the sharp edges.

When Wyll finished his tale, obviously victorious, Astarion said “Yes, well. I’m glad our Blade could sharpen himself on such a useful whetstone.” His words were nice enough, but his tone was sour and ambiguous. Wyll gave him a slight nod, as if he didn’t know what to make of Astarion’s almost compliment.

“Alright everyone, let’s keep moving. We can keep swapping stories while we walk.” Wonderful. He could regale them with all the inventive ways Cazador had enjoyed hurting him over the years.

Tav retired early that night. They had defeated the false paladins, but only just. Astarion had been at the top of his game: his movements were more graceful, his thrusts stronger and more precise. But Tav had fought badly. She had crumpled underneath the swing of a Divine Smite, which had hit her straight in the chest. Astarion had yanked her back up to her feet as fast as he could, but Tav never fully recovered after that. It was Wyll who dealt the killing blow, sending those charlatans back to the hells.

Tav limped all the way back to camp. Karlach had offered her arm, which Tav had taken, but once they arrived at camp Tav quickly disappeared into her tent. Tav had given him so much today, too much. He could never truly repay her, but maybe he could give her a present of his own. One that would keep her in peak condition should they dally again. He could feed on beasts for a time, but if he had the option there was no contest about what he’d choose. She’d been willing last night. Perhaps with the right persuasion, and the right protective amulet, she would be again. Astarion pulled the Amulet of Silvanus out of his pack and slipped it back into his pocket.

He strode as casually as he could to Tav’s tent and gave the canvas a few soft taps by way of greeting. “Come in,” came Tav’s groggy, exhausted voice. Astarion slipped silently inside.

“Darling, today was positively marvelous,” he began. Tav was curled up in her bedroll, already falling asleep. Tav rolled over to face him and Astarion laid down beside her, close enough to tease but not close enough to touch. “I’m glad it was good for one of us,” Tav said, rubbing the premature sleep from her eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

“This is the best I have felt in a long time.” Astarion regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. They were too true. “You gave me a wonderful gift today. I think it’s only fair that I give you a gift of your own.” He produced the amulet with a quick flick of his wrist. “It’s imbued with a spell that will make you feel so much better,” he purred. “May I?” Tav nodded. “Then sit up for me, my Sweet,” Astarion ordered softly.

As Tav sat up, Astarion gently maneuvered them so that he was sitting behind her, pulling her against his lap. He brushed aside her hair carefully, baring her neck to him. Despite Shadowheart’s healing, he could still see the faint imprint his fangs had left on her skin. He suppressed a possessive shudder. He settled the amulet gently against her throat, trailing his fingers along her collar bones, then her shoulders, then her neck, where he clasped the chain into place. Tav touched the amulet tentatively, using it as a conduit for the Weave. A soft blue light surrounded them and Tav felt her body surge with energy again.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You are more than welcome,” he whispered against the nape of her neck.

“About you biting me,” Tav began.

“I hope this is a satisfactory apology,” Astarion countered. “What more could you possibly want.” His hands drifted down to her waist. “Unless?”

“You can bite me again, if you want,” she said, arching her neck. “If we talk about it first.” Astarion buried his face in her hair.

“I suppose that is a deeply reasonable compromise,” he murmured. “But I promise, no more bites in the night. I will wait very patiently until you invite me to dine with you.” He allowed his hand to slide across her abdomen.

“Will you dine with me tonight?” She asked.

Astarion audibly sighed. “I don’t know, darling. You just got your strength back. You should really rest.”

“I feel so much better, really,” Tav said. She gently clasped his hand in hers, slowly entwining their fingers. “Please, Astarion.” His fangs ached.

“Oh alright,” he said, sliding her backwards so that she sat fully in his lap. Astarion pressed his mouth against her ear. “But only because you beg so prettily,” he said lowly. Tav whimpered softly, but remained still. Then he bit her, hard and deep.

Tav was even more delicious the second time. She was rich and full-bodied, like the wine he must have loved in life. Now that he was merely ravenous and no longer on the brink of starvation, Astarion took smooth, consistent pulls from her, running his tongue over her throat after each bite. Tav melted against him, clutching his hand tightly. He wanted this to feel good for her. He wanted to be able to do this again.

“Astarion,” Tav moaned. He sucked harder against her neck, trying to bruise. She gasped and writhed against him, seeking out friction. Astarion finally allowed himself an experimental thrust, dragging his hard length along her backside. Tav gasped, delighted. They found a crude rhythm, instinctively grinding themselves against each other. Soon the tent was filled with the heady musk of arousal, the metallic tang of blood, Tav’s breathy gasps, and Astarion’s low, guttural groans of pleasure.

All too soon Tav’s heart began to stutter. It was a small murmur that interrupted her previously steady heartbeat. The dark animal inside of him told him to ignore it, to keep drinking until he was completely full. Astarion pulled away, swiping his tongue one last time over her, licking up any stray droplets he had missed. Once he was finished, Tav turned in his lap to face him, winding her arms around his neck.

For a moment they were both still. Tav’s eyes shone with lust and adoration, her breath coming in soft pants. Astarion’s neglected cock pulsed beneath her and he fought the urge to thrust up against her. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this warm, this desperate to be touched. He stared at her, trying to memorize every detail of her wanton expression. Tav pressed her lips against his hungrily and he opened his mouth to her with a soft moan. Tav’s tongue gently lapped at his own, sensuously licking up the remnants of her lifeblood. Astarion reluctantly broke the intoxicating kiss.

“I think it’s time you went to sleep, my dear,” Astarion said. Tav drew back, stung.

“Oh, um, alright.” She quickly slid off his lap and Astarion stood up, too quickly to be nonchalant. “Was that too-“

“Don’t worry, darling. You were perfect,” he said, brushing off non-existent dirt. “But you almost died today. And I need you in tip-top shape tomorrow.” Tav flushed with embarrassment, but nodded. “You are right,” she slowly agreed.

“I always am,” Astarion said. He moved to go, but turned back once he reached the exit to her tent. “Sweet dreams, pet. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left before she could respond.

Of course there would be a condition. Tav wouldn’t let him drink her blood for free. It was him. He was the price. She would let him drink from her, perhaps nightly, so long as he slid into her bed each time. On some level this felt inevitable. He had always known that he would end up here, tangled in the most powerful party member’s sheets. The tadpole had changed many things but it hadn’t changed what he fundamentally was.

She wanted him. He wanted her. This was a good thing, he’d been actively aiming for this. So what was the harm? His old master had forced him to spread his legs for rotten scraps. His new one would have him on his back in exchange for a feast. This was a good thing!

But Astarion didn’t want a master. He wanted to be free. He wanted….he didn’t know what he wanted. If this was the price then he didn’t think he could pay it after all. Don’t be an idiot, his inner voice mocked. This is the way the world works. Blood for blood. Do you want to go back to Cazador? Then suck it up. This is our one in a million chance to be free and I will not see you fuck it up because, what? The pretty girl wants to kiss you and it makes you feel weird? Would you rather be tortured to within an inch of your pathetic life?

And yet another voice inside of him insisted that this was not fair. Tav had been kind to him. He had fallen on her in the middle of the night and she had fed him. She had defended him publicly to the rest of their company. She had stopped when he had wanted to stop.

Because she wants to fuck you, you imbecile.

He’d talk to her tomorrow and clearly iron out the details of this little arrangement. It was better, actually, if he left her wanting more for a while. He didn’t want her growing bored with him. So long as she didn’t eject him from the group, he could live with anything Tav threw at him. He had survived Cazador. He would survive Tav.

Author's Note:

Astarion is going to have a lot of complicated and contradictory feelings about Tav until more trust is built. This will take time, but I promise we will get there.

Chapter 3: Kiss

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #the night shift #a taste of plums

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