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astarionslittletreat · 8 months

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Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong.

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.”

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm.

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.”

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good.

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips.

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg.

You curse.

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being.

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

*************************

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.”

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

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spitgobbler · 7 months

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Sweet Treat

I’m not a big halloween fan but I wanted to post at least something so here’s a smutty fic of fucking fboy leon at a Halloween party <3

pairing: fboy!leon kennedy x fem!reader

tags: fucking in Halloween costumes, handcuffs, dirty talk, pussy spanking, p in v, nipple play, fake fangs, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, smut with a tiny bit of plot, unprotected sex

"Aren't you glad I forced you to come? You look smoking." Your best friend giggled, loud music blaring in her home. Her parents home actually, but they were out of town.

You stood there clad in a sexy black corset, a black mini skirt, and fishnets. Oh, and don't forget the fake fangs she forced you to apply to complete your vampire costume.

You look at her blankly, "Yeah, totally.."

It's not that you hated Halloween, the opposite actually, it was more so that you hated parties. The migraine inducing music, the over abundance of intoxicated people… no thanks.

Your best friend huffs with a eye roll. "See? This is why I said you need some dick. Get that attitude fucked out of you"

Grinning slyly, she pats your shoulder. "Let me get out of your hair."

When she walks away in her skimpy little nurse costume, confusion is visible on your features. What was she up to now?

A muscular arm cages you in before you could follow her, causing you to step back, pressing your back against the wall in surprise. Eyes trailing up to see who it was, you came face to face to a pretty blonde man in a cop costume with too many buttons undone than what would be appropriate for an actual cop.

“You’re so pretty that I’d let you suck me dry,” He flirts, one of his hands tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “In more ways than one.”

Oh. That’s why your bestie fled.

The attention makes your thighs clench, he was coming onto you so strongly that you couldn’t help but be swept up in his advances.

“In more ways than one? These aren’t real fangs, you know.” You voice, trying to reject him at first despite how your body was beginning to react to his close proximity.

Leon just laughs, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip before tugging it down to see your fake fangs. “Come on, it’s Halloween. I think I need to take you up to the station for being such a downer.”

He grabs your hand with a surprisingly gentle grasp and begins to lead you past the drink table and up the decorated staircase. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, Officer Leon Kennedy will take good care of you.”

You find yourself in some spare room, pressed up against the locked door. Leon’s warm hands trailing up your thighs teasingly as his lips press plush against yours.

A small moan bubbles from your throat when he pressed his tongue against yours, his thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips beneath your miniskirt to show his appreciation for your cute little sounds.

His touch is more tantalizing than you’d like to admit, your pussy growing wetter with each touch, kiss, and caress.

You whimper when his fingers tease you through your damp panties, grasping for his biceps that bulge against his cop costume.

“Ah, fuck, Leon.” Brows furrowing at his touch and your hips twitch.

Leon continues to drag his fingers against your panties, the miniskirt you wore bunched up at your hips.

“I make you feel good, don’t I?” He breathes out, lips curling up pleased. “I know I do.”

Fingers nudging at your throbbing clit and rubbing messy, harsh circles against the sensitive bud, it has your breath stolen and jaw slack.

You whine out for him, “Please,”

Your pleas have him kissing your cheek sweetly as he brings you closer and closer to release, that warm pool of arousal building in your core. Those lacy panties separating his fingers from your weeping cunt adds to the mind numbing pleasure.

Mewling and whining, your hips rock to grind your clit against his fingers. “Close, m’so close.”

“Won’t you cum for me? Come on, I know you can.” Leon coos, slipping his digits through a opening in your fishnets and beneath your ruined garment with slight pressure that makes your legs go weak.

You gasp, moaning lewdly as your composure breaks completely. Pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and gush all over his fingers. Leon moans lowly at the sight, wet sounds squelching when he slows his ministrations to help you through your orgasm.

Pulling his fingers away, your mind is mushy when he eases you down onto your weak knees in front of him. When he fiddles with his belt, you look up at him with lust glazed eyes. Hands resting on his thighs and a fogged mind from your orgasm.

That lewd expression of yours makes his cock kick in his hand, taking a deep shuddering breath as his arousal flares.

Leon’s hand caresses your hair while his other slowly pumps his cock, a pearl of pre dribbling out. “I know you know what to do,“

It doesn’t even phase you that he’s hinting at your bloodsucking vampire costume, more intrigued by his taste and so you obey him. Lips pressing against his needy tip before your tongue slips out to lap at his slit, causing a long deep groan to spill from his lips.

“That’s it,” he praises, brushing your hair out of your face once more with a surprisingly intimate touch.

Licking at the vein on the underside, Leon grips your hair slightly as he shudders. His pretty blues gazing down into your eyes half lidded, as you tease his leaking cock.

His hand presses down on your head, wanting you to take him in your pretty mouth. “Watch the fangs, sweetheart.”

Relaxing your jaw, you slide his cock into your warm wet mouth and he whimpers from the suction.

“Shit, yes…” One of his hands press against the door for support, eyebrows knitting together from the feel of your mouth and tongue moving against his needy cock with every bob you make.

“Good fucking girl,” he hissed out, using the last bit of restraint left in him, Leon pulls you off him with a huff. “Spit on it, spit on my fucking cock.”

Wet saliva clicks in your mouth before pooling on your tongue. You spit a fat glob onto his cock which sends a shiver down his spine.

Leon’s cop uniform is straining at the buttons with how hard he’s breathing. “Stroke it,” He commands breathlessly.

“Like this?” You murmur, soft hand smearing your saliva over his dick along with his pre cum that oozes profusely from his flushed tip. Eyes looking up prettily at him for any sign of approval.

In which he nods, hands moving to help you up. Leon’s hands slip behind your back and begins to unravel the lace that held your corset snuggly to your form. “Let’s get you out of this, yeah?”

You nod appreciatively when your torso is freed from the confines of the corset, “Thank you.”

A groan falls from Leon’s plush lips at the sight of your tits, the corset forgotten at the floor. Leon picks you up with ease and presses you into the mattress.

Placing soft wet kisses to the flesh of your breasts with a hum. Your cheeks flush from the attention to them, it was something you felt that previous hookups tend to forget but Leon most certainly didn’t.

“Ah… mmh,” Gasping softly from the teasing kisses to your breasts.

Leon grins softly, “You like that? Fuck, you’re so pretty, so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

He flicks his tongue against your nipple while his hand teases and pinches the other causing them to pebble up and harden.

A whimper rips from your throat when Leon pressed his tongue flat against it, before his lips circle around it and sucking gently.

You squirm beneath him, “O-Oh, s’good.”

The look he gives looks you is so proud and he sucks on your breasts eagerly. “Mm…”

“Don’t wanna forget this one, now do we?” His attention is now on your other breast, licking and sucking all over the sensitive and soft flesh.

It makes you whine, writhing and moaning from all of it and you swear you’ll go crazy if he doesn’t do something more.

Leon paints your chest in pretty shades of rouge and it doesn’t even cross your mind that once the two of you are done fooling around that everyone will see his marks all over your breasts because of your corset.

“L-Leon, come on already.” You whine.

You hear a metallic jangle and you’re flipped over, face down ass up. His strong hands pull your arms behind your back and the handcuffs he had for his costume are secured onto your wrists.

“Gonna have to cuff you for being so impatient, baby.” Leon pushed your miniskirt back over your hips and his hands clench at your fishnets, forearms and biceps tensing as he rips a hole in them right at your crotch.

The sound felt so lewd, sending even more waves of arousal to your cunt. Your panties were already no good and they just clung to your pretty pussy to the point where you wanted him to rip those too.

Leon settles behind you, moving your panties to the side to reveal your needy pussy. He groans right in your ear when he rubs the tip of his cock between your wet folds, a moan of your own spilling against the mattress.

“So fucking naughty, letting a cop touch you like this.” He murmurs to you, slowly easing just the tip in and he teases you with it. Gently and slowly, pressing his tip just barely in repeatedly, it leaves you wanting more.

You press your ass back into his pelvis, trying to get more of him inside and he chuckles breathily. “Quit playing around, want you to put it in.”

Leon lets a hand slip around your hip, spanking your clit just a bit. You jump and choke out a whimper, desperation doubling when he spanks it again.

“I always give it to pretty girls like you, don’t worry.” He reassures with one more spank to your clit, making it throb.

Mounting you from behind Leon eases his fat cock into your wet hole, hands writhing in the cuffs from the pleasurable stretch.

Both of you moan and being the nice guy he is, Leon gives you a moment to adjust before fully sheathing himself inside of you.

The feeling in your cunt is so full, absolutely stuffed with his thick cock and it has you mewling already. Breathing all heavy and cheeks warmed with arousal and desire.

“Please, let me move,” Leon begs quietly, grasping at your hips. “…please.”

It’s like he’s become desperate once he’s inside your warm wet pussy, walls snug around every inch of him. He wants, needs, to feel you cum around his cock.

You nod, giving him permission to do as he pleases and Leon whimpers, rocking his hips into you slowly before increasing his pace. His tip smushing and pressing into your cervix, Leon grabs at your hands that were cuffed behind your back and uses them as leverage to fuck into your tight cunt harder.

Eyes rolling back, Leon groans, “F-Fuck, gonna make you my girl with a pussy like this.”

“Yes… yes!” Back arching like a cat as he dicks you down so good you might have to come back for more.

His pelvis smacks into your ass with each harsh thrust, sharp slaps of sticky skin ringing out that’s drowned out by the Halloween music downstairs. You writhe beneath him, his cock making you tremble and moan out into the sheets.

The strain in your cuffed arms burns but oh god, the way it’s blurs with the pleasure of Leon’s cock sliding in and out of you, reducing you into a needy, whiny, whore.

It was so sloppy, the wettest nastiest sounds squelching from your weeping pussy and he just fucks you even more eagerly with the lubrication of both of yours arousal.

“Wanna cum, Leon…” you slur out, drooling as your eyes flutter back. Mind all mushy that it can only process the way Leon abuses your cunt in such a toe curling manner .

He huffs, letting go of your cuffed arms to reach around your hip like previously, he spanks your clit and moans when it causes you the clench around his cock with a strangling grip.

“Cum. Cum for me, god, need to feel it,” Leon pleas, rubbing your clit in frantic messy circles when he feels his own climax bubbling. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

With a few more thrusts accompanied by his fingers busy with your swollen clit, you feel that familiar warmth before it spreads throughout your body.

“A-Ah, ah, m’cumming!” Your orgasm crashing against your senses, cumming all over his cock which triggers his own release.

Warm seed spilling into your tight little pussy with a whimper that falls into a long moan, Leon’s thrusts faltering as his chest heaves and his cheeks flush. Pretty blue eyes clenched shut and brows furrowed as he takes in the waves of his release.

After a few moments, he eases out of you and removes the fake cuffs, helping you lay comfortably on the bed before flopping next to you. Both of you breathing heavily as your mind begins to solidify out of that mushy state Leon put you in.

Your eyes blearily look at the blonde when he cuddles up to you so sweetly, which is a change of pace from what just occurred.

“I know things are a bit reversed, but,” Leon gulps in some air as he comes down from his high and he looks a tad bit nervous. “Why don’t you let me take you on a date?”

As you walk hand in hand with Leon, strolling through the park and enjoying the ice cream he bought you, you felt a vibration in your purse.

“Can you hold this?” You ask, extending your cone.

He smiles and nods, “Anything for you, pretty girl.” Letting go of your hand, he takes it from you and sneaks a quick taste of the flavor you got with a pleased hum.

Fumbling and rummaging in your purse, you finally grasp your phone and check the message your bestie had sent you.

‘I know I said you needed some dick but why my parents room?’ It read.

You giggle loudly, shooting her a quick, ‘Oops!’ before slipping your phone back into your purse and resuming your date with Leon.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x fem!reader smut #fboy!leon #fboy!leonkennedy #fboy!leon x reader #fuckboy Leon Kennedy

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gojoshooter · 7 months

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On halloween night with boyfriend Sukuna

a/n: i couldn't wait to post this!! enjoyyy <3

Sukuna waiting outside in the car tapping his shoes impatiently as you do the final touches for your halloween party look because the obvious — does he need to try? He's good to go with a bloody wifebeater and skinny jeans to show off his thick thighs.

You literally painted yourself a vampire with bullet in the head and he mumbles “cute” as you enter the car... fix your man?

Okay you did look kinda cute. He's pulling and kissing your plush blood-red lips and grazing his tongue along those fake little fangs. Cute cute cute he coos.

Your pointy black nails are slightly smaller than his real ones, he notes, and they go nowhere else than his big palm that clasp yours all the way to the party. Oh damn your little red dress with black lace all over, that made him trip on nothing with how intense his gaze runs down your height.

He actually puts makeup to not go overboard the intimidation bar. You had to convince your madman to not show up in his true form — he's handsome both ways for sure, but that's not normal to find the father of mf special grade curses goofing at a sorcerer's.

Bold of you to think that would stop his menace genes, cause once you leave his side, he's coming for your two bestfriends. If passive bullying Yuji in his human-earthworm costume who runs almost in tears to Gojo wasn't enough, he calling out Megumi for his (actually pretty) devine dogs mask. Though the most reaction he got out of your raven hair friend was a pissed frown when your boyfriend calls him a “fury brat”.

And as if one personification of headache was less, there comes Gojo Satoru, your former teacher in his highschool uniform with a fake 'Inverted Spear of Heaven' up his neck to save his favourite student. That's a pretty cool idea — you mentally compliment.

“Sukuna-san... I won't appreciate troubling my students in my own house, you know. I'm here though... if you want to take this outside.” Despite the little rivalry they've been up on, it amazes you how similar their challenging look of intimation is, just a little bit cute.

“Coming from your biggest L-taker costume I suppose, Gojo-san?” oh, burn. That's enough, you're on cue as soon as Megumi holds down Gojo from jumping your boyfriend.

“Knock it off, Suku” you warn him, tugging subtly at his tattooed arm. You're more mad at the fact his chuckle did something to your beating little heart. “Can't take you seriously in this cute ass makeup, babe.” Megumi sighs as he walks his sensei away. As much stinky Sukuna's affection seems, atleast he's off the hook thanks to you.

“Alright, show me what your tiny fangs do and maybe I'll stop” he's provoking you now, of course his thousand years d!ck loves to rile you up, you know that. And you're not backing down today.

“When we're home.” your pretty squinted eyes rival his smirk when you press a finger on his chest, and his tall frame over your smaller one. Did he just notice your dark red contacts? Fuck, if not already, he's aroused now.

“Feisty? now that's my type of halloween” he complies with his signature killer smirk.

p.s.: happy halloween >-<!! how can I not write about Suku ^^ been days since i posted lmfao put up with my not so creative ass😭😭 likes & rbs are appreciated babies<3

tags: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @4sat0ruu @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @nanamikentoseyebags @tojisun @whodoesthatanymore

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bunnyreaper · 8 months

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kinktober 4 - monster fucking

demon!ghost x reader

(18+/mdni, mentions of rough sex/soul sacrifice/dom sub dynamic/size difference)

you hadn't meant to summon him, you hadn't meant to summon anything, really. had you drawn a summoning circle, lit some candles, and chanted some latin? yes, but you hadn't thought it would actually work.

it was just meant to be a meditative practice, a little silliness after the dreams that have plagued you as of late.

something to convince yourself that none of it was real--until he appeared, red skin, black eyes, pointy horns and a look of disgust painted on his face.

thick smoke curls around the room as your otherworldly visitor puffs in out of thin air.

"what d'ya want, human?" the demon's voice is low, his accent thick and his scorn obvious. he lounges against the wall, taller and broader than any human and exactly the kind of infernal sin you dreamed of so often. he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but for whatever reason, he still answered your midnight call.

you never saw the dream figures face, but this demon's has you captivated--a strong jaw and plush lips. you can't look anywhere but at him, lost in the inky well of his eyes as he peers down at where you kneel on the hardwood floor. you're not sure what to say, hadn't thought you'd get this far at all, and certainly didn't think anything that came would be quite so darkly enchanting.

"don't have all day, love." he snarls as he urges you along, and then he's moving toward you, a harsh grip at your chin as he forces you to rise to your feet and look him dead in the eye.

under his gaze, you feel compelled to tell the truth--out of fear or out of reverence you're not sure, but the words tumble from you anyway.

"i have these dreams..." you start, hesitation washing over you as your eyes slip shut and you recall your nighttime visitor. you feel the demons simmering stare regardless, and you distantly think he knows, but is just making you say it anyway, just wants to hear the confession straight from your mouth, just wants to taunt you into confessing.

maybe it's part of his game, perhaps he's been putting himself in your dreams on purpose, luring you into his trap. the thought makes your stomach churn as you think of how easily you'd fallen for it.

his eyes narrow dangerously. "dreams?" he mocks, his hold on your flesh unwavering, you're practically pulled to your tiptoes--his grip so strong and demanding as he refuses to relinquish you. any more force and he could be holding you off the ground by your neck alone.

shame washes over you in wave after wave, as you become aroused even thinking about the dreams you've been having for so long now. the dreams that have almost become more important than the waking world.

"a demon comes to me in the night and he..." you swallow, uncertain of what word to land on. saying the demon fucks you is too mild to describe the way he acts. he takes you, ravages you, corrupts you. he gives you every kind of sinful pleasure you could dream of and always comes back for more.

"go on." the demon is deadpan, still knowing exactly what you're thinking and yet waiting for the words to spill from your pretty lips, wants to hear you say it.

"... he uses me." you tremble, not from fear, but from arousal, as your eyes meet the demons and you expose the need in your eyes, in your soul. he uses you night after night and you don't have a single protest, beyond the fact it's never seemed possible, until now.

the demon scoffs--a harsh, mocking sound that thrills you against your will. "and you want me to make your sick little dreams come true?"

"yes." you say without hesitation, without a single second passing. you're beyond certain.

"it'll cost ya." one of his hands snakes down your body, feeling your curves before he shreds through your little nightdress with his claws. fangs worry at your neck, as the demon gets a taste for you on his tongue, savours your fear and anticipation. "such a nice fucking body, tasty soul too."

despite knowing what he deals in, that takes you by surprise. "my soul for a fuck?" you ask, a little in disbelief.

the demon picks you up with ease and throws you onto the bed, watching hungrily as you bounce and settle into the mattress. he rids himself of his own clothes with the click of a finger, and stalks over to you like a predator, crawling over your vulnerable body.

his thick, ridged cock hangs heavy between his thighs, drawing the attention of your widened eyes. again, he's bigger than any human, and hard just at the thought of devouring you.

"give yourself to me, all of you. for my fuck, until you can't take anymore. days, weeks, months." he flashes a smirk--sharp, pointed teeth on show. "years... forever. what d'ya say, love?"

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #kinktober

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politemenacephd · 4 months

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Arachnophilia (Part Sixteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Mild Voyeurism, Fingering, Oral (reader giving), Fear Kink, Monster Fucking, Spicy bath time.

Word count: 4640

The morning rolled in with a thick coat of mist, one that settled beneath the tree line and obscured everything in a soft, white void. It was a peaceful, isolated world out here.

Up in the nest you were only just barely stirring, sleepily mumbling as you rolled beneath the silk sheets.

Mig, however, was wide awake. He was watching you as you slowly shifted onto your side, nestling into his fur. His eyes were endlessly endeared. He didn’t want to be strange, and he had enough distant memories of his humanity to know that watching you sleep might seem like odd behaviour, but he loved it too much.

Watching you live in his presence, even doing small things like sleeping or shuffling in the sheets or eating or bathing, it was such a comfort to him. Seeing you exist was fascinating. Perhaps he was still stuck trying to convince himself you were real.

His eyes moved to the window, noting the light outside. It was getting towards dawn, and you’d likely need to return to the society today. What a shame, he thought, his fur bristling with discomfort. He would have to see you off again.

It was in that soft melancholy that he suddenly remembered something rather important. He bent and awkwardly shifted the sheet around your thighs.

God, the heat that erupted in his chest at just the sight, it was maddening. Your soft, plush skin, coated in little red marks and shimmering with the leftover trails of cum and sweat and slick, it made him weak. He coughed to stop himself from going too far, and quickly moved to cover you again.

You couldn’t go to the society like that. You’d be so uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to be embarrassed, poor thing. Plus, you’d probably want to talk with him about what happened last night, if not right now then at some point before you had to face Miguel yourself.

Gently he bent and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his soft forelegs pawing at your hair to wake you.

‘Mi tesoro?’

You blinked, your eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light.

‘Mm?’

It was all you could get out, and yet Mig’s smile only widened. ‘Sweet thing. You are so sleepy, mi bella durmiente.’

‘You tired me out’ you grumbled, your face half obscured now by his black and red fluff.

‘I know. I apologize.’

‘Oh, no—don’t apologize, my god, I am- very grateful’ you said, your face half turned to reveal a lazy half-smile. His own smile widened until his fangs were bared, their pearly sheen glinting in the pastel dawn light.

‘Sweet thing’ he repeated, ‘sweet little spider. I’m sorry, but, I believe you will have to leave soon. For the society. Would you, like me to help you get clean?’

Immediately you groaned, your smile fading as you nestled deeper into the sheets. ‘Oh no, not the spring. It’s freezing.’

‘You do not like the spring?’

‘It’s—it’s an outdoor spring, Mig, it’s COLD. I can handle it sometimes but—oh, god, I’m gonna have to aren’t I?’

Miguel grunted. Even your minor distress perturbed him deeply.

‘No, no, don’t you worry mi tesoro. I didn’t realize you felt that way. I will…’ He paused to think, his paws tapping back and forth like fingers drumming on a piece of wood. ‘I will… we have that basin, downstairs, I can fill it with water from over the fire. I’ll warm it for you. Would that be, acceptable?’

‘Mm… Are you sure Miggy?’ you said, awkwardly manoeuvring onto your elbow so you could see him. ‘I don’t—’

‘Mi arañita, how many times do we go over this? I like to do things for you.’ Mig bent as he spoke, his forehead coming down to nestle against yours. His breath as he huffed was warm and sweet on your face, and his eyes up against yours were so round and wide and red. You bumped his nose with your own and heard that strange little chuckle erupt in his throat.

‘I like to do things for you’ he murmured. ‘So let me. Please.’

You sighed, but, this time you capitulated easily. ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll do the warm water thing. And to be nice, I’ll even let you watch’ you said with a slight smile.

The unironic joy in his face made you giggle.

‘You are- very, nice to look at, when you bathe’ Mig breathed. ‘Though that, may be more to do with the coldness. You look, very… tight. Very…’

‘Perky. You wanna say perky, right?’ you said, your face tilting to catch his eye. You could see he looked embarrassed.

‘Yes, that- yes. Yes. But I will put that aside to ensure you are warm. Now you go back to resting.’

While you nestled back into the sheets Mig rose to his feet and began creeping towards the door. He had that soft, dumb smile on his face even then, but it faded as he pushed the door aside.

That smell was still there.

That smell. Him.

He hadn’t left.

Mig shot one look back at you as you snuggled up into the sheets. You seemed unphased, likely either ignorant or unbothered by the man’s presence. Either way was good. He darted his head once, twice, before deciding to finally descend and face him.

As Mig settled on the dewy grass below the nest he found Miguel right where he’d left him last night; back to the tree, slumped on the ground with his knees turned up and his arms folded, his whole body looking sickly and exhausted.

Mig thought about ignoring him, but something made him stay. He didn’t look at Miguel with the fear he used to, but most surprisingly he didn’t feel that same animosity from last night. He was annoying, yes, and a verifiable menace, but a threat? After seeing the man on the floor, whining, watching him mate with his partner with those needy eyes, it was hard to even be angry at him.

He’d won. Now he just felt bad.

‘You remained, I see’ Mig said, his breath condensing hard in the air.

Miguel scowled, his lack of sleep obvious by the dark circles beneath his eyes. He refused to meet Mig’s gaze as he gently patted over.

‘We have a set-up here if you need to bathe’ Mig said, his legs folding so that he could sit beside him. Miguel stiffened. ‘I built a full uh, well as full as it can be out here, bathroom set-up for mi tesoro to use. You are welcome to—’

‘Shut up’ Miguel snapped. Mig blinked, unphased.

‘Well, it still stands. I don’t know if you’re going to continue this charade of watching but if so you may want to consider your health long term. It gets cold out here.’

‘Why are you—so, calm?’ Miguel said, his eyes shamelessly roaming the man’s body. Mig blinked again.

‘Well, you’re not a threat anymore’ he said, matter-of-factly. Miguel seethed at how unbothered he was; there wasn’t a trace of denial or false confidence in his tone, he truly didn’t see Miguel as a problem anymore.

‘You’re a fool if you think that’ Miguel replied.

‘I am, not, though, am I?’ Mig noted. To Miguel’s horror, the spiders red eyes moved over to a particular patch of grass, one slightly dewier than the others. Miguel felt his face burning up.

‘I sensed you, relieving yourself, last night. Don’t worry, I—didn’t tell them.’

‘Oh, how noble of you’ Miguel sarcastically grunted.

‘I find it, grotesque, but… you showed me sympathy before, and I don’t forget that. I will choose to show you sympathy here.’

‘Get away from me.’

‘I do not want to be at odds with you’ Mig said gently.

‘You—fucked them in front of me!’ Miguel spat, suddenly jolting to try and subdue the large man. Mig looked down, unphased, as Miguel seethed and huffed, his fangs bared.

‘Yes. I know. I don’t apologize for it. You could have left, but you didn’t. You wanted to watch, and I made sure you understood finally that I am not your sad little scapegoat anymore. You needed humbling.’

Mig’s cold, calculated, and yet wholly earnest rebuttal brought Miguel to his metaphorical knees. He couldn’t fight this. He was still plotting internally, rocked by conflicting feelings of anger, guilt, confusion, and somehow admiration.

‘What is your problem, sir?’ Mig asked genuinely. ‘I don’t understand. I don’t believe you truly love my little spider—’

‘Ay por Dios—stop calling them that, its—disgusting’ Miguel hissed.

‘Hmm. No. That is how I call them, so, I will continue. But, as I was saying, I don’t believe you love them. Not like I do. But you… reek of loneliness. It is, unnerving. And you pursue them, and me, with something that would imply jealousy, and yet I cannot believe it is them you desire. So, what is it?’

Miguel narrowed his eyes. ‘Hmf. You want the truth?’

Mig nodded and watched patiently as Miguel sat up straight.

‘You idiot. No, I don’t love them. You just—cruelly showed me something I’m not allowed to have, throwing it in my face with your lack of regard for their safety, and it—broke me, temporarily. But it doesn’t change anything. We are not supposed to be happy.’

‘How can you know that?’ Mig asked, his head tilted. Miguel scoffed.

‘I don’t know what it is about us, but—every time, I’ve come close to being happy, it’s taken from me. The same is true of you but you just can’t seem to see it. You are chasing someone from a different universe, how will that work? Will they wear the watch forever, until they die? If they take it off their DNA will disintegrate. You can’t have children, you can’t buy a home, you can’t get a normal job, you can’t buy food or water or necessities. How will you care for her if she is sick, or old, or tired? How will you give her anything but this? You are dangerous. You have blood on your hands, as all O’Hara’s do.’

Miguel sighed and ran both hands down his face as he drolly listed all their issues upfront. ‘Even love wouldn’t be enough to just, paint over those issues, and I know you’re not in deep enough too—’

‘I… think, I do love them, actually’ Mig blurted.

When Miguel turned, he found that his counterpart had softened. His eyes were sad, round, downturned. He looked, scared?

‘I think, I am in love with them’ he repeated.

Miguel scoffed openly to his face. ‘You idiot—no you don’t.’

‘I do.’

‘You don’t know what love is—’

‘I do. I’ve been in love. You know I have.’

Miguel grunted and lowered his head into his hands. It looked like he was in pain.

‘Don’t. Don’t you dare invoke Dana right now.’

‘Dana didn’t love us’ Mig said. There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in those sad little words. ‘Me, or you. You know that.’

To his surprise, Miguel didn’t fight back.

‘She may have liked what we were, but… we were young. It feels like another lifetime now. But she left you, and she—’ he choked on the words and forced them down. They both knew what he meant. ‘I forgot what it felt like, to love something, but I feel it now. It’s like… an old tree that shed its leaves, sitting alone, thinking that it has died, only to realize that it was only winter. No matter how long it’s been, it knows what spring is. It remembers the sun. It remembers the buds, and the flowers. It knows them.’

Miguel wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. The poor fool was speaking so honestly. Still, he had to get one cruel remark in.

‘Mm. You love them so much you let me look at them like that?’ Miguel said snidely. Mig remained unaffected.

‘I seem to have lost a lot of my concern around nudity that you all still uphold, out here. I have not seen clothes for over a decade. I do not care who see’s them, only who touches them. Besides, they are… glorious to look at. I could not deny myself the chance to observe them beneath me.’

‘Ay, Dios—be quiet’ Miguel snapped. Mig conceded.

‘But, going back, Dana was the last real instance you had of loving someone, yes?’ Mig asked. He didn’t notice Miguel suddenly stiffening, his whole body tensing up.

‘She was the last real relationship you had, from what you told me. How can you be so sure about it not working? Even if not romantic love, what if you tried—’

‘I had a family’ Miguel murmured, his eyes growing glassy and dull. Mig froze. He sensed something in the air, something potent. Something deep, and dark, and cold. A white void. A nothingness that he didn’t know how to fill.

For just a moment, all the birds in the air seemed to stop singing. The world went utterly still.

‘You, did? When?’ Mig murmured. It felt strange, like he was speaking in a graveyard, instinctively knowing to lower his voice.

‘Not that long ago. I had a daughter. Now it’s—she’s, gone. Because of me. It was all my fault.’

Mig felt his whole body sink. Despite his animosity with this man, he knew their shared desires. He knew how ingrained into them this one dream was, this thing he’d also been forced to put aside. He could almost feel, in the universal string between their bodies, the pain he had pushed down.

‘Miguel—’

‘I was being kind before, to you, even if you didn’t see it’ Miguel snapped at Mig, interrupting him sharply. ‘I was being kind to both of you. I just wanted you to avoid that same fate, that same pain, but it seems that all O’Hara’s must suffer to learn. So I don’t care anymore. Tear each other apart.’

Mig tapped his foot sadly.

‘It—I mean, having two poor experiences does not a doomed man make’ he murmured. ‘It’s not the end.’

‘Nobody can love us’ Miguel repeated. ‘Nobody lov—’

Nobody has loved me, he thought, nobody but Gabi, but he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize it. For all his grandiose promises that he maintained separation for the sake of others, in truth, he knew he was just weak. He was scared.

He didn’t say this, but Mig could almost feel it in the air around him. This verbose, unspoken resentment.

‘You are far more human than me’ Mig murmured, ‘and I am—treated kindly, if not loved. I don’t see why the same couldn’t happen for you.’

‘We are monsters’ Miguel said. ‘We are still broken. Still ruined.’

Silence fell on the two men as they sat side by side, both facing out into the woods. There was too much here to easily unpick. Too much lingering animosity, too much history, too much jealousy, too much of the same man’s lingering doubt now doubled.

Miguel was slipping somewhere dark, and it wasn’t Mig’s job to save him, but it was hard to watch himself floundering. How could he not, on some level, have sympathy for himself?

‘You… If you wanted, you could watch again’ Mig said, fully misreading the tension in the air as he tried to find a solution. ‘Perhaps seeing it more would help you, acclimatize? To see that this body can be loved? Perhaps—’

‘Get away from me’ Miguel hissed.

Mig slowly closed his mouth. Miguel didn’t want to be reached right now, clearly, and so Mig rose to his feet to leave. He went to the spring and collected as much water as he could in an old wooden basin he’d built, one that could just about fit your body. As he made his way back up to the nest, Miguel raised his hand to stop him.

‘They requested that you be allowed to join the society. Your, little spider’ Miguel said. Mig blanched.

‘They—they did?’ he stammered.

‘Yes. The idiot thinks you could re-join society somehow. They're holding my past escapades over my head to get it, so I agreed. I hope you make the right choice and reject my offer.’

Mig blinked and turned to gaze at nothing, his hands awkwardly juggling the basin. In the end he refused to give a clear answer and climbed back into the nest in silence.

As he closed the door at his back you were already awake to greet him.

‘Hey! Miggy, there you are. You took ages, I thought you like—tripped and fell into the spring, I was about to call emergency services.’ You babbled a little as you rushed across the nest to hug him, your arms burying themselves into his fluff. Mig felt all of his tension melt away.

‘Mi tesoro, back to bed! You’ll catch cold’ he said gently. He wanted to lift you but his hands were full with the basin, and we forced to gently scoop you with one of his spider legs instead. He carried your huffing body back to the mattress and dropped it into the sheets.

‘Hey! I’m fine, come on.’

‘Relax, mi arañita. Let me work. Be still for me.’

You made a show of rolling your eyes before gently nestling back into the sheets, allowing Miguel to prep your bath.

It was a low tech venture, with Mig boiling water over the fire to a warm but not scalding temperature before pouring it into the basin bit by bit. It took so long that you almost drifted off again, but Mig was there to shake you awake at the shoulder and tenderly carry your naked body to the bath.

He sank you into it slowly, his eyes darting to check that you weren’t too hot. When the only sound you made was a soft, pleasured sigh he gleefully let you fully submerge.

‘Oh that’s so much better’ you whined. ‘That’s so, so much better.’

Mig folded his spider legs and settled on the rim of the tub, his chin resting on his arms. He watched you with those big, round eyes, unashamed of how they roamed over the contours of your body beneath the water.

‘Sweet thing’ he whispered, lightly tracing his finger through the water. You watched the ripples hit your chest, the steam obscuring your vision. ‘Sweet, pretty little thing.’

It was quiet here, isolated and alone. There was no sound but the drops of rain on the windowsill, and somewhere far away the distant bellowing of an elk in the mist. You listened to Miguel’s breathing, the rustling of his fur, and the soft movement of the water as it lapped at your skin.

‘So… mm.’ You shuffled and settled into the warmth, letting it seep into your bones.

‘That—other you, he’s still outside, isn’t he?’

Miguel averted his eyes. ‘Ah… yes. He is. I meant to say, mi tesoro, about last night—’

‘I’m fine. Don’t worry.’ You opened one eye to catch his gaze, meeting him with a relaxed and foolhardy expression. ‘I know what we did was—childish, maybe, but he had it coming. I don’t regret it.’

‘Ah…. Ah, good. Good’ Miguel repeated, trying to stifle his relief.

‘Do you regret it?’

‘No. I don’t think so. The man needed a little, territorial display to put him back in his place. He forgets that he’s a spider too. Though… I do, feel some sympathy for the man.’

You scoffed. ‘Pft. Why?’

‘He is sad, mi arañita, you must see that. He is alone. He believes he MUST be alone.’

‘That’s not my fault, nor my problem.’

‘Mm. What if—well, have you considered, what you’ll do if he continues this, surveillance scheme?’ Miguel asked.

Your devilish grin took him quite by surprise. ‘We just keep fucking, I guess, until he learns his lesson. See which position disturbs him the most. I think me on top would do it.’

Mig flushed, trying hard to hide how aroused he was by those words. He was possessive, and ultimately rough when it came to sex, but his body was primed to swoon over a strong, confident figure. It aroused him greatly, even more so when he thought about pinning and subduing that spirit on the end of his cock. He coughed to cover up his obvious lust.

‘Very well, I am- of course happy to follow what you desire, mi tesoro. Ah—I did want to also say, Miguel, he—mentioned that you bargained to have me join the society?’

You closed your eyes at that, doing a little shuffle to sink your shoulders beneath the warm water. ‘Yeah, I did. I wanted you to have the option.’

‘You are, very kind, arañita. I just… I haven’t been around people for a long, long time’ Miguel murmured, his voice dipping as he spoke. You could almost taste his anxiety. ‘I don’t know how to… ah—’

‘Socialize?’

‘Yess, yes, that.’

‘You did fine with me’ you noted. You rolled a little in the tub so you could take his hand in yours, and noticed quite quickly the way he returned to gawking at you beneath the water. His eyes were fixed on the wavy reflection of your ass, soft and wet and round beneath the waves. You had to squeeze his hand to draw him back.

‘Babe. Babe. We can do that in a moment. What I was saying is, you did fine with me. You don’t need to please everyone, just—having the chance, the option, I think you deserve it. Okay?’

Mig rustled again at the idea. He was clearly still worried, still unsure. He tried to focus on your hand, your kind eyes, and the courage he’d gained last night. He clung to the idea that, if he did join, he could be around you more often.

After a moment silence he bobbed his head. ‘Okay. Okay, mi tesoro, I will- go with you. I will join.’

You beamed at him, your smile filling out your cheeks.

‘YES! Yes, Miggy, you’re coming with me!’

Overjoyed you rose from the tub and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your bare chest quickly smooshing into his. His hands instinctively flew to wrap around you in turn, but he froze up at the sensation.

So much of this was new to him, and despite all the aggressive sex you’d engaged with, the simple act of hugging his soft, warm, wet partner, feeling the water glue your bare torso to his chest as it dripped down to his fur, was something fresh and exciting. He felt his cock straining to get hard.

‘Ah—careful, mi tesoro, you—you’ll get cold’ he murmured.

When you pulled back it only made it worse. His clawed hands lingered on your back, his eyes now given the gift of your wet chest in full view. The little droplets sliding from your collarbones to your chest, circling and dripping off your nipples as they grew cold in the air.

He let out a sound like a strangled rabbit. ‘Ah… Ah, ay coño…’ he breathed.

You felt his gaze like a physical touch, and of course it made you weak. You checked your watch; it was still early, you had a little time.

‘Hey, you, uh…’ You leaned in and gently grabbed at the fur on his lower abdomen, pulling him closer. ‘I wanted to try something. Now there’s no, heat, rushing us.’

‘What, uh—would you like, mi arañita?’ Miguel asked. He swallowed so hard you saw his Adam’s apple jolt.

‘I wanna try sucking on you. Properly. Can we do that?’

The joy in his face was unbearably cute. ‘Yes- Yes, yes, absolutely, yes, ah—just a minute—’

He moved to give you a very quick kiss before shifting his body over the tub, with four legs on either side and his abdomen comfortably settled in front of your face. You lay back in the tub and put one hand up to where you knew the slit was. You watched it grow hard, fully emerging to its full erect size, straining and twitching for attention.

Mig let out a hard sigh at the release. He used one hand to grab the ceiling, stabilizing himself with his claws, while the other cupped your head.

‘You ready, arañita?’

You nodded, and with your lips parted you moved in and took him into your mouth. His groan was loud enough to echo, easily reaching the seething Miguel still sat outside. The man felt his whole body go rigid.

He needed to leave, he thought. He had to go. But… could he, hear you moaning too?

‘Mig’ you groaned. ‘My Mig.’

‘Ah—ahh, that’s it, ‘s so… so good…’

Mig whined as you started experimenting. It was quite the fit for your mouth, so at first you tried just licking. You lapped at the tip, tasting those soft beads of pre-cum as they beaded and dripped. They were still sweet. You moved it down, gently stroking each vein, each inch with your lips and tongue. You’d kiss it, gently, just to see it pulse and twitch.

Your tongue was so flat, so warm and wet. He felt all eight of his legs shaking.

Once he was utterly saturated with your spit, you moved back to sucking on him. Your lips took that full, thick shaft and slipped it between them, and even though you had to widen your jaw as far as it could go you moaned the second it hit your throat.

It felt unbearably good, to suck on him back and forth with his claws in your hair and his beautiful face desperately panting above you. It was both so powerful and so submissive at the same time, so vulnerable while giving you absolute control.

You let him fill your mouth and throb on your tongue, pulsing desperately for release. You started to moan.

With shaky movements Miguel moved one of his longer spider legs into the tub, gently lowering it to shift between your legs. You squeaked as you felt it sliding up and against your cunt.

‘Shh, it’s okay. Let me touch you, arañita. Let me touch you.’

You whimpered as he tightened his grip on your hair, slowly starting to pulse himself between your lips. He began to tenderly fuck your mouth while his spider paw massaged your clit. The fluff was on that swollen nub, gently circling and stimulating every nerve it could, but then you got something more; one of his claws began to gently insert its smooth side inside your cunt.

You squeaked, momentarily frightened, but the danger seemed to spur you into a state of overwhelming, mind-numbing lust. You let it happen. Your eyes rolled, and as Mig groaned out loud you let him claw-fuck you beneath the water.

It was messy.

Water overflowed and splashed down onto the nest, Miguel’s abdomen began to shake and tremble with pleasure. Your body was jolting violently as you edged yourself, torn between the pleasure of that smooth, hard claw rubbing up against your velvety cunt and the paw stimulating your clit.

‘F-Fuck—good arañita, that’s it—you feel, amazing, ah—you are, amazing—’

You grunted as he started to pump deeper into your throat. You could feel his copious pre-cum spurting all over your mouth, coating your tongue until it was all you could taste. He fucked you until spit began to pool and dribble down his shaft and into the water.

‘Mmf—mmf—’

‘You like how I taste, arañita, huh? You like that?’ Mig begged. You tried to nod but you were utterly impaled, your body shaking from overstimulation.

‘You want that, arañita? You want me to cum in your mouth?’

‘Mmf—’

You continued like this for as long as you could, furiously, pawing and sucking at each other in a daydream haze of pleasure.

And outside, on the grass below, Miguel shamefully continued to pleasure himself for the second time. With his hand on his mouth and his thumb and forefinger teasing the tip of his cock, he listened in, and he pretended those muffled moans were his.

He couldn’t leave. Not yet.

Not yet. Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #drider #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #smut with plot #miguel o'hara smut #drider miguel o'hara #+18

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

Text

The king's gift

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 24

Prompt: Birthday

Rated: T

CW: veeery light dubcon if you squint really hard; mild blood and violence

Tags: Time Travel; Magic AU; Fantasy AU; Royal Eddie; Time traveller Steve

Notes: Continued from day 15

A bird is singing outside the window, a cheerful melody of trills and chirps celebrating the sunshine.

Steve is gonna murder it.

The sun, too, while he's at it.

Even with his lids shut, the light feels like someone is trying to wedge a dagger into the space behind his eyes. Each new note from the stupid bird pounds in his skull like the blow of a hammer.

Or the chime of a giant clock.

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face as fuzzy memories trickle into his mind. Snarling monsters with giant fangs and claws, chasing him through the ruins of an ancient castle. A crumbling throne covered in vines, silver sigils glowing all around it. The sound of the clock in his bones, in his blood, and then … silence.

“Fucking hell … weirdest dream I've ever had.”

“Don't blame you,” someone says, and wait, he knows that voice. It was in the dream, too. “Making the acquaintance of those charming critters will do that to a guy.”

Steve freezes.

Then, very slowly, he peers out from behind his hand.

There's a guy in the bed with him, a vaguely familiar guy with long dark curls and eyes to match. He's lounging against the headboard, a book in his lap, but when he catches Steve gawking at him, he marks the page and puts it down on the nightstand.

The very unfamiliar nightstand. Right next to the very unfamiliar bed they're in.

“Hey, pretty thing,” the guy smiles, and one hand, heavily adorned in silver rings, tenderly smoothes Steve’s hair from his forehead. “Feeling better?”

“The fuck?” Steve shoots upright. “Where the hell am I?”

Because the room, as it turns out, is as unfamiliar as the bed. It looks like something out of the period pieces his mom watches - ornate furniture and plush carpets, walls covered in velvet tapestries. Like some medieval king's castle, and …

… oh, no.

No fucking way.

“Careful now,” the guy chuckles good-naturedly and grabs him by the scruff of his shirt. “They did quite the number on you. My head mage patched you up, but you don't wanna overdo it.”

He makes to pull him back into the pillows, but Steve twists from his grip and jumps out of the bed, ignoring the wave of vertigo that comes with the movement.

“Woah woah, wait!” he stammers. “What the fuck do you mean? That was real? What the hell is even- What am I wearing?”

Because his jeans and tee are gone. Instead, he's in some sort of wide, billowy shirt. It flows around his form and ends somewhere around his very naked thighs. It has frills.

He isn’t wearing anything else.

“You were somewhat covered in blood, darling,” the man laughs. He languidly unfolds himself from the bed, one long limb at a time, and steps into Steve’s space. “Didn't wanna risk an infection. Also doesn’t befit my gift to run around like that, all dirtied and-”

“Excuse the fuck outta me?” Steve squawks. “Your what?”

Anger flares low in his gut and he takes a step backwards. The man just smiles easily and follows, and then, suddenly, warm calloused hands are cradling his cheeks.

“My gift, sweetheart,” he repeats, like that isn't something only a complete fucking lunatic would say. His thumbs idly stroke Steve’s cheekbones. “It's my birthday and the magic gave you to me, just like the oracle said it would. I've been waiting so long for you. Didn't expect you to be this gorgeous, but that's an added bonus, isn't it?”

They're close, very close, so close that some errant strands of curly hair are tickling Steve’s flushed cheeks. And somehow the guy is still getting closer, head tilted ever so slightly, plush pink lips parted just enough to-

Steve isn't a violent guy, usually, but … he's going through a lot right now and he's panicking, okay?

He doesn’t even consciously process what happens. Just knows that a stranger whose bed he woke up in and who just called him his fucking birthday gift is pulling him in for a kiss. One second later, his knuckles are hurting and said stranger is in a heap on the floor, wiping blood from his split lip.

“Pretty and feisty,” he mutters. When he lifts his gaze, his eyes are full of awe. “You really are perfect, aren't you?”

“What the fuck?” Steve blurts. Again. He's starting to lose count of how often it's been. “Who do you even think you are, you fucking weirdo?”

The guy cocks his head in confusion, but only for a second. Then, that infuriating dimpled grin slips back on. He's handsome, in a dangerous and rugged way, with his wild hair and bruised lip.

“Apologies, he rumbles. "Where are my manners?”

And then, without getting up off the ground, he reaches out and takes Steve’s hand in his. Steve watches, heart in his throat and eyes wide with confusion, how the guy bends into a dramatic bow and reverently kisses his own blood off his raw knuckles.

“The name is Edward. King Edward Munson of the Woodland Mountains. Also oh-so-aptly known as Edward the Banished, though my friends just call me Eddie. And you, my dear …”

He looks up at him, all glinting eyes under dark lashes and Steve needs to swallow against the lump clogging his throat.

“You're going to be the one who saves me.”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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thebigbiwolf · 6 months

Text

Mine, if Only for the Night

Summary:

Based on a prompt given to me by a wonderful anon: Astarion/reader fic where he finds out she's never had a lover 'finish the job' so she doesn't see what all the fuss is about, and he decides to use his skills to ruin her for anyone else and show her what she's been missing out on?

Fic Tags: Porn with feelings, Multiple Orgasms, Overstim, Astarion POV, LOTS of Pining, Vaginal sex of all kinds (jesus), and Reader's First Orgasm lol

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), language

Word Count: 5.1k~

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: I loved this prompt. No notes. This is also maybe a bit of a fix-it fic where Astarion does not dissociate during your first time in the woods because my baby deserves to have a good time.

Thank you Lari @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever.

Astarion leans his shoulder against a tree, surveying the clearing.

While the surroundings were still a tad rugged for his tastes, he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a few furs and pillows here and there until it felt acceptably comfortable.

He peels off his nightshirt, discarding it into the plush grass as he works his jaw, wondering where you might be.

You should have arrived by now. More than an hour had passed since the distant, jovial music and chatter had faded into nothing, and the tieflings have long since said their goodbyes. The night envelopes him in silence, broken only by the distant murmur of a nearby stream and the usual cricket song.

He’s starting to wonder if perhaps he had misread this entire situation. Maybe he pushed too far - made some sort of error in his assessment of you.

Or maybe you didn't desire him at all.

The idea gnaws at him - unsettles him more than he’d ever care to admit.

An uncomfortable weight in his chest.

He brushes the feeling aside, scoffing to himself.

As if you or anyone else would deny themselves a chance to indulge in his body, especially when offered an immediate out. No unnecessary promises. Not even a cuddle.

As if.

And yet, he can’t seem to shake this uncomfortable doubt.

Step by step, he paces, turning your interaction with him at the party over in his head until he’s exhausted every word - until the grass flattens beneath the soles of his feet.

How the topic of your disappointing sexual history came up could perhaps be attributed to your shared bottle of wine. He’d nearly choked on the damned drink when you explained to him, in detail, about every encounter, every night you spent satisfying a man’s ego rather than having your needs met, and how you no longer believed there was any real point to sex.

He could hardly believe his beautifully pointed ears.

And while he would normally revel in the opportunity to embarrass someone over being the tragic victim of terrible sex, your case is… different.

You are different.

You stood by his side, even through the disastrous revelation of his condition. More than that, you allowed him to drink from you - a favor he won’t soon forget.

Part of you even enjoyed it.

He felt it the moment he put his mouth on you, the very second his fangs breached the delicate skin of your neck. He felt it all: the subtle hitch in your breath, your little twitches of excitement.

And yet, you asked nothing more of him.

So, what is a friend to do?

It took some insistence - a bit of reassurance that no , offering to bed you properly was not brought about by a sick sense of obligation, nor was it a way to repay you for your kind deeds - but honestly, for the life of him, he doesn’t understand why this feels so damn important - why there's this incessant urge to bring you the release he knows you so desperately need.

Perhaps it's the promise of a challenge - one that pokes at his male pride like a petulant child. It goads him, raising an egotistical brow his way, the knowledge that unlike all the other men you’ve wasted your time with, Astarion could get you off with ease.

He’d pull out all the stops, use every trick in his little black book to reduce you to a quivering, obedient mess. He’d take his time with you - have you wet and pliant, begging beneath his fingers before giving you everything those pretty little lips could ever ask for.

He would ruin you, if you’d allow it.

All you had to do was give him one night. No strings attached.

And yet, here you are, keeping him waiting.

Five, then ten, then 20 minutes pass, and only when he’s about to pack his things - when his growing impatience threatens to twist into a feeling dangerously close to disappointment - does he hear movement behind him.

The rustle of leaves, a snapping twig.

Astarion turns to find you grappling with a particularly thorny bush - your hair a mess, adorned with small sticks. With a frustrated huff, you kick at the plant, muttering under your breath.

You haven’t noticed him yet, too busy fighting to free your foot - and it suddenly occurs to him that your inferior human eyes had to navigate these woods in the dark.

That little detail must have evaded him when he made his proposition, but realizing it now, knowing that you weren't simply wasting the night away, wrestling with the decision of whether to leave him waiting and wanting… sets him at ease.

“You should have been a druid.” he teases.

You freeze, head perking up and swiveling towards the sound of his voice.

“I don’t see why the lot of them insist on camping out in the wilderness,” you huff, “There’s a perfectly fine grove less than a mile from here.”

You finish prying your boot out from the thicket, nearly toppling over in the process. He almost considers helping you, but watching you struggle like a newborn dear is just too amusing to pass up. He’ll make it up to you soon enough.

Making your way toward the clearing, your eyes gradually adjust to the moonlight. They find his gaze, then wander over the pale expanse of his chest, before quickly darting away to focus on the ensemble of blankets.

“Oh. This is… nice.” You remark, gesturing towards the furs, and at first, Astarion assumes you’re mocking him - turning a nose up at his thoughtful efforts.

But when he turns toward you, preparing to make a less-than-savory comment about gratitude, he is instead met with a genuinely surprised, and somewhat irritating, smile.

Just what sort of lovers have you settled for, thinking that this constitutes ‘nice’?

“And you thought I was going to, what,” he scoffs, “Drag you into the cold woods and have my way with you against a tree?”

Your face flames at the suggestion, burning bright red at his boldness, but you don’t deny it.

In fact, his keen ears pick up on the subtle flutter of your heartbeat as soon as the words leave his lips.

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

“Ah,” he purrs, “I see.”

With that, Astarion closes the distance between you, toned arms sliding beneath the firmness of your thighs to lift you with ease. A surprised squeak leaves your mouth as your ankles instinctively lock around his waist.

He takes a few steps forward until the dull edges of bark press into your shoulders.

“Is this what you want?” He punctuates his words with the firm press of his clothed cock against your core, already hardening with interest. It’s almost maddening - how responsive you are, already squirming in his arms when he’s hardly touched you.

His grip tightens on your rear, nails digging into your soft skin.

“Answer me, dear,” he growls, “I want to hear you say it.”

It’s a lie, of sorts. He doesn’t want to hear it - he needs to. Needs you to beg for him, as ridiculous as it feels.

He’s had more lovers than he could count, heard their sweet cries like a symphony of praise, but they fell on deaf, pointed ears compared to this - to your ragged breaths.

“ Say it .”

“ Please , Astarion. I want this -”

As soon as the words leave you, his lips are on yours, hungry and demanding. He sets you down, one hand leaving your thighs to grab at your jaw and tilting it just so - steering your face into a more accessible angle, the tip of his nose finding its place against your flushed cheek.

His other hand snakes its way to the back of your head, twining the soft strands of hair between his fingers, tightening them in his fist and pulling .

The sudden sting elicits a whine, stolen from your parted lips, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along the seam, dipping into the inviting heat of your mouth. Notes of cheap, flat wine still linger on your tongue, but he quickly finds he doesn’t mind the taste - barely notices it at all when you're opening up for him so eagerly.

He long expected himself to turn off - to hide behind his practiced movements, allowing his body to do the work for him - to wake up sometime after you’d found your pleasure in him.

But here he remains - his script thrown to the wind while your little sounds of approval hang in the air between you, driving him with a hunger that is wholly unfamiliar.

He wants this, but that realization will come later, when he’s gathering his clothes with the heat of the morning sun at his back, wondering why the idea of leaving you there in the plush grass settles like lead in his stomach.

It’ll wait for him there, hidden behind layers of denial and fear, then follow like a hound biting at his heels for months on end until he makes peace with it - until he chokes on his own tears in the safety of your arms where you’ll welcome him, along with all of his complications.

But for now, he kisses a line down your shoulder, feeling more alive and present with every swipe of his tongue against your collar bone. You sigh, and he pays special attention to the thin skin there, warm and jumping in time with your pulse.

Astarion's deft fingers skillfully unhook the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. He tears away the offending fabric, and a low growl burns its way out his throat as the last two buttons pop off, landing somewhere in the dirt beside him. You’ll have something to say about that later, he’s sure.

When the morning comes, he’ll notice you searching for them and offer to sew in new ones - more suitable ones, in whichever color you’d prefer. When he hands the shirt back to you just a few hours later, now embroidered and finer than even before his careless blunder, your impressed smile will awaken a fondness in him that will linger naggingly in the corners of his mind for the foreseeable future.

He’ll ruminate on that later, when his mouth isn’t descending on your breasts, and his hands aren’t palming at your newly exposed skin.

Falling to his knees, he works at the laces of your trousers. Then, when the troublesome strings are finally undone, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as he peels the cloth slowly down the length of your thighs. He takes his time with it, dragging the fabric over your knees and trailing the blunt edge of his nails back up to the curve of your hips, watching intently as the skin prickles beneath his touch.

You wiggle, restless and flushed bright red from your neck to your ears, suddenly avoiding his stare.

It’s a strange, uncharacteristic shyness—until he puts two and two together when he runs his finger over the white lace of your smalls and finds them positively soaked .

“Is this all for me?” he teases, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

His thumb presses knowingly into the wet fabric, petting the skin beneath with practiced pressure.

You don’t answer - you can’t - with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, too busy rocking mindlessly into his touch.

Well, that certainly won’t do.

A hard slap lands on the inside of your thigh, jolting you to attention. The responding hitch in your breath goes straight to his cock.

“I asked you a question, darling. Is this all for me?”

“I - agh , yes.”

“ Very good,” he purrs, satisfied, “Now, spread these for me.”

You obey, parting your legs and giving him more space to work with. He tugs at your pants, quickly ridding you of them, then goes back to work kneading lazy, unhurried circles into the thin, sticky, wet fabric. It clings to your skin so perfectly, outlining your form for him as if you were wearing nothing at all.

You're panting above him now - small, rushed breaths suspended in the charged air. The muscles of your thighs twitch with each pass of his thumb over your clit.

And again, you’re not looking at him - head turned to the side and whispering curses quietly to yourself.

Another slap to your thigh, then - the same one, because he’s cruel - now marked with the vivid red imprint of his hand.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

When your eyes meet his again, they’re hooded and glossy, filled with a familiar haze.

Lust .

He’s got you now.

Pulling the now thoroughly ruined garment to the side, Astarion rewards you by dragging a finger through your folds, watching your arousal drip down his wrist. It practically drools out of you, coating the rest of his digits, slickening his palm as he presses one into your entrance.

Your hands instinctively fly to his hair, settling atop the tousled, white strands, and your body takes him in greedily .

Astarion smiles to himself.

This feels… good - being so in control, pulling little pleasured sounds from your lips. His pride swells as he adds another finger. You buckle forward, letting out a strangled groan, losing yourself to the feeling of being stretched - being prepped for him and every inch of cock he has to give you, sitting impatiently hard and neglected in his trousers.

He pumps in and out of you, slowly at first, but it only takes a few short moments before your impatient squirming turns into a mindless, needy grind. Each small thrust forward has your body taking him deeper, clenching him tighter until he can feel you throbbing around his fingers.

There’s a level of self indulgence here that he would deny if questioned - perhaps even under oath - but the wholly unnecessary way he pauses to tear the fabric of your smallclothes would quickly betray him.

Your squeak of surprise is all he hears before the press of your thighs deafens him - and if he was naive enough to believe that your blood was the most enticing thing he’s tasted in the last two centuries, it pales in comparison to the mess you’ve made for him.

An anguished hum escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds - so hoarse and strained with disbelief, it almost sounds more animal than man.

He drinks you in, letting up for only as long as it takes to press tender, soothing kisses into your clit, sucking gently at the nub before dipping his tongue back into your hole for seconds, thirds -

This is madness . How someone could pass up this opportunity is far beyond him. Your fist in his hair, surrounded by your pulse as it thrums within the warm, pillowy skin of your thighs, the way you chase your release, rocking into his mouth and coating his chin with your slick, is everything .

It is everything.

In the cornered haze of his mind, he almost regrets his promises. Had he known it would be like this, that you’d be the first and only memorable partner he’s had in the last two centuries, he may have reconsidered.

Hells, he should have reconsidered the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you had the gall to taste that fucking sweet - to be that damned responsive .

How is he supposed to play this off as if it changes nothing - as if this means nothing at all?

“Shit, Astarion -”

Pesky details. He’ll have to sort those out later.

“I’m - I think I’m close -”

Astarion is a smart man - smart enough to know that the best course of action here, when you’re on the precipice of coming apart, is to simply redouble his efforts and continue on as he has been. No special trick up his sleeve, no overly indulgent stylized movements, just sucking as gently and generously as you need. He applies the same steady, circular pressure of his tongue, curls his fingers and fucks you with them in a steady, calculated rythm, until -

The moment you fall apart will be forever burned into his mind.

He will remember it all: the twitching of your thighs, the tight pinch of your brows, the sound of your cries as your hips stutter in his strong hold. He’ll remember the way he moans, earnestly, as he laps you through it, eager to extend your high for as long as your body allows him. And he will surely remember the thrill that runs up the length of his spine at the sight of you losing yourself at his hand.

But most of all, he will remember the moment immediately after - when your movements slow, and your tight grip loosens from his hair; when your warm hand falls to the side of his face, the soft pads of your fingertips rubbing gentle circles into the shell of his pointed ear.

You may not have even noticed the small gesture, too blissed out and trembling, but when the two of you look back on this moment years from now, Astarion will laugh at how blind he was - how he should have seen the spark of fondness in your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, the kindling that was twisting in his chest at the sight of your flushed skin, and the fire that would grow there until it nearly consumed him.

He should have known that this was the start of something greater.

But at this moment, all he knows is the sudden, inexplicable urge to keep you here tonight - to prove himself worthy of coming back, should you ever have an itch that needs scratching. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next night, or any other time you’d see fit.

Astarion places a final kiss on the junction of your hip, right where the skin is thinnest above the bone, then leans back to fully appreciate his work.

You are breathless , chest heaving from sheer exertion.

“That was…”

You huff out a laugh as you try to find the right words.

“Perfect?” he raises an eyebrow at you, grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “I know. Like I said, I’m quite good at this.”

He wipes at the clear slick on his chin and shamelessly licks his hand clean, sucking your mess off his fingers with a playful pop.

Your face flushes with embarrassment - the pretty color now matching the puffy, reddened skin of your sex.

“Do you want more?” he asks, as if his cock isn’t threatening to leak a dark patch into his trousers, “We don’t have to, of course, but -”

“Yes.”

Astarion’s smiles are normally calculated - purposeful, and poised to perfection, but the one that finds its way to his face at your eagerness is as real as the ache beginning to bloom in his knees.

“Come here, then,” he says, dragging his weight back to the blankets. He doesn’t even have the time to readjust the decorative pillows before you’re clamoring on top of him, covering his neck with impatient kisses and helping him remove his clothes.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, but he’s met with no response. Your mouth is too busy sucking bruises into the pale, hard planes of his chest, hands working diligently at the laces of his pants.

The moment his legs and cock are free, Astarion wastes no time wrapping his arms around your midsection and seating you perfectly on his hips, the searing heat of your slit molds around him, dragging up and down as you grind against his length.

There’s urgency in the air - in the way your mouth finds his own. It buzzes and hums, growing with every pass of your hips, prickling like burrs beneath his skin. He’s as much a victim of it as you are -here in this little corner of the wilderness - to the strange and unrecognizable pull.

This desire to touch you.

With one hand anchoring the back of your neck, he takes his length with the other, notching himself at your entrance - an invitation you eagerly accept.

You sink down, enveloping him in suffocating heat .

The grunt that escapes him is entirely involuntary - the honesty behind it bleeding out between his teeth, escaping with a hiss.

“Shit,” he huffs under his breath, willing his brain to focus on anything other than how you mold so perfectly to him. It’s almost like you were made for this - for him - and the notion itself is almost enough to toss him right over the edge.

It’s hard enough to believe he’s present with you, here in this moment, rather than falling into oblivion and allowing the act to pass him by.

But to be enjoying it this much?

Sheer disbelief.

Your hips move experimentally, sighing with relief as you take the rest of him down to the hilt. His grip on the nape of your neck tightens, nails digging small grooves into the base of your scalp. The slow rock of your hips as you adjust to his size would surely be enough to finish him, were he any ordinary man - were he not determined to brand this night into your mind for the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth - tadpoles be damned.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to be like this, melding so beautifully around his length. But he has appearances to maintain, and spilling into you now would surely ruin his carefully crafted reputation, so he steals what’s left of his composure and continues on.

Astarion stares at where your bodies meet, bringing a practiced thumb back to your perfect little nub and pressing . The delicious pressure has your forehead falling to his shoulder.

“Can I - agh, ” you pause as he cruelly begins to rub your clit, much too slow to actually finish the job, but just enough to feel you clench around him. He continues like that for a few seconds, savoring the way you grip, release, and start to dribble down from where he’s rooted so deeply inside.

“Can you what, my dear?”

“Can I move, please?”

“Hm,” he sighs with feigned indifference, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

His hands guide you into a comfortable rhythm, stroking your walls and filling every inch of your greedy cunt as it swallows him up - back and forth, rocking into him until you’re good and split open.

You ride him until your legs begin to fail you - until he has to grab your waist to keep you steady as he fucks up into you in earnest. The hard, wet slap of his damp skin against yours mixes with your strained, desperate moans. He pounds you like he’s sating some sort of hunger - fucks you with so much force that your slick forms a thick white ring of cream at the base of his cock.

His thumb rubs expert circles into your clit with firm, gentle pressure, until he feels that telltale fluttering of your walls around him, and your blunt nails are digging into where his shoulders meet his chest.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he grunts, and the question is met only with an affirmative whine. “Good. This time, I want to feel it.”

His hands move to your rear, squeezing and kneading - pulling and pushing your hips to grind himself even deeper into you until your body gives up its orgasm.

It drags you under like a raging current.

You wail pitifully against his shoulder - the suffocating grip of your sex working to milk him dry, gushing around him and soaking his thick cock as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

It's almost enough to end him, it truly is, but Astarion is nothing if not thorough, and G ods be damned if you leave this clearing tomorrow morning without your cunt permanently molded to his shape - without this encounter seared into your very being.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your chest tight against his own and turning you over until your back meets the soft furs - his hips rolling into yours as the waves of white-hot pleasure pulse through you.

There will be many more where that came from. When you eventually crawl back to his tent with a shy gaze and offer him another taste of your neck, pretending it was simply a coincidence that you waited until the dead of night to seek him out, when the rest of your merry little troup were fast asleep in their bedrolls. Couldn’t stay away? He’ll joke, pretending as though his heart doesn’t stir at the sight of you.

He’ll bed you again, and again, and again. Whenever and wherever you should ask: on his desk - tomes shoved carelessly to the ground, between the cracked stone walls of a cave while the others ready their gear, tangled within the sheets of the first real bed you happen to find. He’ll fuck you in those stolen moments with a willing mouth and hands and cock, however many times it takes for him to realize this does mean something to him - even if he isn’t quite sure what that something is .

And you, being the perfect thing you are, will be patient, and give him the space he needs to figure that out.

“One more,” he whispers hot against your cheek, “I think we can get one more out of you.”

“This is insane. How are you so - gods, ” he’s got just the right angle now, dragging languidly in and out of your thoroughly fucked hole.

He’s done quite a number on you already, and you’ll likely need a day to recover the strength in your legs. The others will surely mock you for it, but perhaps you’ll manage to blame it on the hangover?

“Astarion, I - I don’t think I can do another -”

“You can,” he says with the confidence of a man who’s done this before - one who knows the limits of a woman’s body and exactly how to push them. “And you’re going to stay right here, wrapped beautifully around my cock, until you give me what I want.”

He drives the point home with a sudden, hard thrust, and the rush of it has you keening in surprise, hands flying to his back and heels digging in for purchase.

In fairness, he’s hardly given you a chance to come down from the last climax, but you sought him out tonight. You knew what you were getting into, no less than a mouse offering itself to a cat. He’ll toy with you until he’s had his fill - the first man in your life to ever make you come apart. Not just once or twice, but three times once he’s through with you.

And while the third takes a bit more work, as expected, he quickly realizes you appreciate a decent amount of force, so he feverishly pounds into you - pinning your wrists at your sides to prevent too much useless, unnecessary squirming.

Astarion thinks could get addicted to this level of control if he isn’t careful - his brave, unwavering, diplomatic leader held captive beneath him as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from your body, drunk on his cock and fucked out well past the point of any decorum.

The way you moan for him now would put some prostitutes to shame - eyes glazed over and thoughts entirely wiped of anything other than being split open and thoroughly used.

It reminds him of why he’s here. The thankless months you’ve spent worrying yourself over every vagrant’s problems are now practically a thing of the past. And after tonight, you’ll surely be ruined for any other man, securing himself in your good graces. A win, win, all around.

Your orgasm almost sneaks past him, too caught up in his own musings to notice, but the subtle rush of slickness and the resounding sound of your body sucking him in even deeper gives it away. Your head rolls to the side as you choke back a sob, tears forming the corners of your eyes as your exhausted cunt barely manages to scrounge up the effort to squeeze him, and that’s when he finally decides you’ve had enough.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Inside? Agh - Inside, please, ”

Oh.

An unexpected answer, but not an unwelcome one.

And so, he does.

For the first time in his memory, he comes entirely apart.

With a few more strokes, he spills inside of you, and the sheer impact of it takes him by surprise.

Hissing between his gritted teeth and buried in your warmth he floods you to the brim, floods every inch of your cunt until his come has no more room to fill. The spend clings to his cock with every stroke, drooling out of you and tracing a cloudy white line through the valley of your rear before soaking into the blankets beneath.

Astarion heaves like a man with functioning lungs, groans from the sudden, noticeable soreness in his limbs, and actually, truly laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Just how long had the two of you been at this? Over an hour, surely?

He’s about to ask you - maybe try his hand at a bit of pillow talk for the first time in his life - but when he looks back at your face, he finds that you’re barely conscious, just on the precipice of passing out from exhaustion.

He pulls out of you, trying his best not to grunt through the overstimulating drag of your skin against his.

Astarion could count on one hand how many memorable encounters he’s had since the beginning of his servitude, and even less when considering how many he enjoyed.

Well, enjoyed would be a very generous descriptor. More so, how many he was able to stomach until the end. And while his anatomy was capable of producing results despite his head being elsewhere, this was… different.

You are different - that much was clear from the beginning, since the moment you forgave him for pulling a knife on you and, for whatever reason, trusted him enough to allow him to stay with you, despite it being an objectively stupid thing to do.

He’ll tell you as much, when he finally confesses his feelings for you. That had it not been for your endless patience and your unfathomable kindness, he may have never learned to love at all.

But he wont have the words, let alone the maturity , to articulate that for quite some time.

For now, here you are, snoring softly beneath him.

And here he is, with the beginnings of a strange, unrecognizable tingling in his chest.

What ever will he do with you?

#bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion fanfic #astarion/reader #my fics #mine if only for the night #posting this and then walking the fuck away from my computer

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justpoliteconversations · 3 months

Text

The Negotiator [Reader + Mer!Warriors]

This was not in your job description. You don't get paid enough.

The self-indulgent is spewing forth even stronger than usual with this one. This particular topic was supposed to happen differently, but I was seduced by the unceasingly posts of the scarf on my dash. It be that way sometimes.

Masterlist

Part: 1 / 2

TW: Implied things. Not specifying, so be warned.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You hadn't aimed for the welfare department when you'd signed up for an entry level position at a mer rehabilitation center. In fact, you hadn't expected to be considered at all, nevermind accepting the position even if you did get a call. It had been a fit of fancy sending in that application. A shot in the dark, when honestly you'd already been accepted for another job.

And yet, here you are. Just like you'd taken a chance in sending out that application, you took another one when you turned down the job you'd lined up previously in favor of a pipe dream.

You just hadn't expected that dream to become a nightmare so quickly. You hadn't expected the glamor of media and public perception to be so skewed by romantic bullshit it had become more akin to a lie than an embellished retelling.

In the time you'd been working there, you learned something about Mers that should have been obvious from the beginning (was obvious, you just hadn't wanted to accept it at first). Furthermore, you learned something about humans you'd always known but now had deep, intimate experience with.

And that was that Mers are dangerous, feral creatures. And that humans are damned idiots.

"Wars." You called softly (you knew he'd hear you. he always did), staring down cautiously into the enclosure from the safety of a catwalk far above. The water rippled at the surface, just the slightest of movements giving away the presence of the Mer you currently had the most concerns about.

Wars, for better or worse, was a charmer as far as mers go (honestly, as far as any male species goes). A handsome face, elegant features, charisma for days and a flare for the dramatic. And also, a flirt. An insatiable flirt who knew how to woo a female of any species into giving him a second look.

It was what made him so valuable to the center. So damned profitable. The picture perfect fantasy come to life, all wrapped up in a saucy little wink and a sweet (fake. so fake) gesture of affection for the throngs of desperate humans clambering to meet the real life prince charming. The perfect act. An act made by a predator that thrived on deception.

And those ignorant center visitors were none the wiser. Just throwing their money away to coo and sigh at the smiling face that had learned to keep his fangs securely behind an upturned pair of lips.

It's not hard for a creature as intelligent as mers to lie, after all. Despite what the law may interpret the existence of mers as, when it came down to it they were sentient predators. And humans were just as likely to end up on the menu as anything else.

The water shifted again, and suddenly there he was. Golden spun hair shimmering in the sunlight like gold dust, gorgeous blue eyes half-lidded and a smile (fake. fake. fake.) turned delicately against the plush shine of full lips.

He did a little turn in the water as he looked up at you with a damn good imitation of bedroom eyes, making a soft cooing sound and letting the long, silky sapphire fan of his fins flare out across the water's surface like a great billowing cloak. By the end of the flashy swirl, he's wrapped his glimmering curtain of tail fins around himself, blowing you a kiss in a very humanlike gesture. Of course, throwing in his signature wink at the end, delicate head fins folded back and eyes so liquid they were practically melted.

Ever the performer. And currently the bane of your existence.

"Yes, yes. Beautiful as always, Wars." You drawled, rolling your eyes before continuing. "Now. If you're done trying to kill me for the day-" He made a wounded (fake) sound in the back of his throat. "-I have to talk to you." You leveled his pouting face with a serious stare. "About my co-workers."

It was instant. The way War's melted sugar eyes hardened like cold chips of ice, the pupils within constricting so rapidly you could see it even several meters above the water. His fins pulled close and held perfectly still atop the water's surface, the lithe muscles of his tail working so fluidly in his element he hardly seemed to move at all.

He sank just the slightest bit until it was just his dark, predatory eyes watching you from the eerily still surface. Waiting. Watching. Assessing.

It took everything in you not to take a step back. Away from the catwalk. Away from the predator curled tight in the water below, tense as a coil in a spring-loaded trap (you wondered sometimes if he might not make the leap one day and drag you down to your death. he had the power for it, no matter what your coworkers seemed to think).

You pushed away the unease, instead taking a step forward. Ignored the way his eyes tracked you like pinpoints against the whites of his eyes. "I'm sure you've heard that management are thinking of putting someone in the water with you. For- performance potential." You grimaced at the idea of it.

It would be a blood bath. Warriors was territorial. Far too territorial to allow just any random trainer in the water with him (which shouldn't have ever been a concern at all. because there were restrictions put in place for a reason. and no direct human-mer interactions was at the very top of the list damnit).

Wars was silent, as was to be expected. He hadn't yet learned human speech, and if you had your way he never would. Because he wasn't even supposed to be at the center anymore. He should be back in the wild where he belonged. Seducing fish and seals to their untimely deaths or whatever it was this particular mer did to get by before he arrived at the center.

But he was a money maker (and a damned good one). He was basically the face of the center by this point (featured on so many postures it was nearly sickening). And the big bosses were hard pressed to let such a cash cow go without a fight.

You understood. You really did. Money didn't grow on trees and mers were expensive to upkeep. Not even accounting for the gray-area bullshit that was mer standing in the political sphere. Mers were not an easy subject to acquire funding for, given the hazy line between sentience and non-sentience the world at large couldn't seem to agree on (you knew where you stood on that line).

However, (and as you've said so many times before) forcibly keeping him (or any mer) here with the intent to gain profit went against the very purpose of the center. Which was to rehabilitate mers affected by human-made incidents and to release them back into their natural environments as soon as possible.

Simple. Effective. Routine. And then Wars had showed up with a badly torn (shredded) fin from an illegal nighttime boating incident. He was put into the isolation tank (just like any other new arrival) where he had then proceeded to mimic his handlers' playful (you damned well hoped it had been playful) gestures out of boredom.

He's intelligent. Very, very intelligent. He learned very quickly which gestures got him the most attention. And food. And the rest, as one could say, was history.

Which had snowballed into the issue you were now addressing. That some grade A idiot up top thought it would be a good idea to get someone in the water with a potentially deadly (very much deadly. actively deadly) mer just because he learned how to blow a kiss and smile pretty for treats.

"Wars. I am trying my best to get you back to the ocean where you belong." You saw the way his pinprick eyes dilated and flickered briefly, and you resisted the urge to grit your teeth. "Yes, Wars. The ocean. Where you actually belong. Not here in this tank, lovely as you seem to think it is."

Silence. As was expected. Except for the way Wars had flicked his head fins in slight irritation, upset that you were talking of releasing him again when he had made it abundantly clear that he preferred it here. Where all his wants and needs were provided for and life was just so easy to coast through with a few mimicked expressions.

You leaned against the catwalk, arms crossed and head hanging at the shoulders. Not looking forward to a potential one-sided argument with Wars. Exhausted as you were from a long day of arguing with your superiors and trying your damnedest not to call them all conceded fools and ignorant morons.

You sighed. "But that's not the point right now." You moved away from the topic before it could throw you off track. And thankfully, Wars let you (for now). "I'm doing everything in my power to keep all these overzealous idiots out of your territory." He made a pleased coo at that, but you silenced him with a tired glare. "You aren't making it easy, Wars."

From the water, the blue-finned mer unfurled his elegant tail fins and began waving them gently through the water, chirping and squeaking at you in appreciation. It was so convincing you almost wanted to smile, but you didn't because you weren't an idiot.

"Cute. But no takers, love. Your eyes are still doing that thing they do when you're contemplating ripping someone's throat out." Wars blinked at that, before finally (finally) pulling his lips back until his fangs were on full display. Long and sharp and predatory to the very core of him. "Ah. There he is. Good to know we know where we stand with each other."

And he snickered. Honest to God snickered. Pupils no longer flickering between too large and too narrow, just settled into some state of in-between you've come to learn was his version of relaxed.

It was unnerving. But better than the fake ass smiles and doe eyes he seemed intent on practicing on you. Anything was better than knowing you were being actively hunted (even if just for casual sport. especially because it was just for casual sport).

You picked up the bucket at your side now that you had his actual attention. "Back to business." You grabbed a fish from it, a beautiful female salmon nearly half your size (eggs still intact, just how Wars preferred them). "They're going to evaluate you tomorrow. I need you to be- less pleasant." That was definitely an unimpressed snort, but his attention was still on the fish and therefore you were still negotiating. "And by that I mean hissing, snarling. Hell. Even some tail thrashing wouldn't be amidst."

You held the fish out over the catwalk, and his eyes pinpricked again, tracking it with interest. Now for the hard part. "But no biting." His eyes. Flickered. Contracted. Dilated.

"No biting, Wars. Don't kill them." His eyes were fully blown now. Looking you right in the eye. Quiet. So quiet.

"I'm going to give you this salmon. Okay, Wars?" No response. "And if you don't bite, kill or maim anyone, I'll bring you three more. Just like this one."

That caught his interest, and you pressed your advantage. "You know I'd never break my promise to you. I never have before, right?"

He blinked. And his eyes were neutral again. Tracking the salmon with new appreciation. Something almost like enlightenment entering his eyes.

"Is it a deal?"

You were making a deal with the devil. Because this was an intelligent mer. And when he learned how to get what he wanted he'd grasp it with both of his clawed hands and never let it go.

He nodded. And you knew future you would rue this day for the rest of your life (or just until you got this fucker back to the wild, because you would. for sure).

But still. Tension you hadn't even realized was in your chest loosened. Relief flooded your body, so great you nearly went limp with it.

You didn't want to think about what the alternative would have been. Even if it meant Wars now had a new trick in his arsenal to make your life a misery, it would be worth it (it had to be).

It would have been a bloodbath. You were sure of it. Wars was territorial, after all. Of his space. Of his food. Of his resources.

It was why he didn't want to leave.

"Okay." You said, smiling finally. "Here you go."

And with a toss the deal was struck. And you prayed to whatever deity would listen that Wars kept his end of the deal. Because he was an accomplished liar, and he always had been.

And you knew, beyond logic and beyond evidence, why Wars had been hit that night. Why he'd been so close to that boat when he'd been ensnared in their propeller. Why he'd been right under them, so close he could reach out and touch it. In shallow water. With the lights off and the moon full.

Why he'd had injuries on his hands that weren't from propellor blades. Why his claws had damn near been ripped off.

He was territorial, after all. And a predator. The top of the food chain.

And humans were just another animal.

---

Back to the shadow to rest. It's so late.

#merman warriors #linked universe x reader #linked universe

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divine-misfortune · 8 months

Text

Kinktober, day 3. Bloodplay.

Pairing: Dewdrop/Rain

Words: 821

Contains: Biting, Dew being a little possessive/jealous, a bit of dry humping

Summary: Dew bought Rain a necklace, and while it's pretty, it's not what belongs around his mate's neck. He's quick to right that.

Shout out to @sphylor for inspiring this nonsense

Read on Ao3

Steady hands slid along the soft lines of Rain's lithe body, the swell of his ribs and the curve of his waist, impatient, restless, and overheated.

Dew watched with dry-mouthed enthrallment as the water ghoul's dexterous fingers fastened the clasps into place behind his head. Rain's head tipped one way and then the other, inky curls falling loose and out of place from behind his ears. Dew ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, watching the muscle in his neck shift under the skin like a goddamn invitation. Temptation at its finest, welcoming hunger.

He unsuspectingly admires himself, and Dew is hopeless to admire him like the work of art he is. Carved from marble by the hands of the Unholy Father Himself, Rain's beauty could make angels weep.

And with lines of pearls, delicately laced around his neck, strung together as carefully as the stars in each constellation, he might just bring a demon to tears. Dew finds himself tinged with jealousy, wanting his fingers to be the thing adorning his throat but he can't say it doesn't suit him. Everything suits Rain. Especially the rubies that glittered in the light, stark red gems threaded to trickle down his neck. They catch his eye and keep his attention fixed to the ridge of his collarbones. It's a gruesome idea for an accessory, imitating a bleeding jugular, but it made Rain chuckle. Dew knew from the glint in his eyes alone, his siren had to have it.

Rocking up onto his toes to hook his chin over his shoulder, he slotted himself properly against his back. Hips pressed flush to the swell of his ass, Dew smiled with a deceiving innocence as he kissed the space beneath his jaw. Rain hummed, hands settling over both of the fire ghoul's, dangerously close to where his gills resided under the shirt.

His expression, initially amused, settled into something else. Not exactly sour, but not quite pleased.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know...It's pretty but," Rain lets his head fall to one side again with a thoughtful sound.

"But?"

His shoulders rose and fell halfheartedly, careful not to shrug his mate off. He set about taking the choker off and returning it to the velvet box Dew had given it to him in. Dew drew in a shuddered breath when Rain started to look himself over again. Bare throat on display, an unmarred expanse of skin presented to him like an offering to a deity. He could almost feel the blood thrumming beneath the skin, tantalizingly close.

"It's just…Not as pretty as the real thing, I suppose." He trailed off as he skimmed his fingers along the hollow of his throat.

Dew felt his teeth ache with want, his belly gnaw with need. He silently quirked an eyebrow, not exactly trusting himself enough to open his mouth, now when it practically watered.

"Doesn't compare."

He held Rain's waist tighter, knowing full well he'd try to wriggle away, and forced him forward against the mirror. The water ghoul choked on his breath and caught himself with a barred arm across the glass, Dew's eyes darkening over shoulder.

"Not good enough for you, water lily?" The tip of his nose traced the slope of his shoulder to the juncture of his neck, voice gone raspy.

"Dew-"

"Only the best for you, right princess?" Rain shuddered under the heat of his breath, skin pricking as color flooded his cheeks. Dew licked a heavy stripe up the side of his neck, pulse jumping beneath the weight of his tongue. "Oh I can fix that easy."

Be it from fear or arousal, Rain's eyes grew dark pupils blown out, breathing heavy with anticipation. Dew rolled his hips forward as fangs scraped over skin, dick begging for a semblance of friction. Rain's plush ass was enough to aid in fattening him up, but he gave another shameless hump forward for good measure.

All at once Rain's face twisted up, wide eyed expression sharpening from pain as teeth broke skin. He wailed, knees nearly buckling. His heartbeat felt loud in Dew's ears, a frantic little pitter patter rattling in his skull.

Sweet and metallic on his tongue, Dew felt himself growl in warning when Rain tried to shrink away from the loving embrace of his maw. Tasting him bleed was addicting, and he'd yet to get his fix. His blood was ambrosia adjacent, those rubies were no better than glass in comparison. Eyes flicking up, a low moan vibrated in his chest. Rain's face had relaxed, heavy lidded eyes and parted lips, stare starting to go distant.

Self satisfaction curled sickly sweet in his belly when the water ghoul seemed to press back against the bulge in his jeans.

Dew wanted to laugh. Rain was right, nothing was as pretty as the way blood truly stained his skin. A cheap imitation to the nectar dripping from between his teeth.

#spicy tag #writing #void writing #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #rain ghoul #nameless ghouls #raindrop #rain/dewdrop #dewdrop/rain #the band ghost #ghost the band #kinktober 2023 #ghostober

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sunnified · 10 days

Text

TAKE IT OUT ON ME, BABY !

synopsis. it seems like nothing can ever go right in your werewolf boyfriend’s life. . . good thing he has you waiting at home for him!

pairing. mystreet!ein x afab!reader

content. MDNI. mean!dom!ein, manhandling, emphasis on his werewolf features (claws and fangs), like one smack, ein hates humans/is prejudice towards them, porn w no plot essentially, he's angry at the world again..., two uses of the term "his girl", slight breeding kink alluded to - lmk if i missed anything!!

word count. 1.3k

a/n. for this request <3 i think ms!ein is the only character i can write as super sadistic cause he was on smt every time he appeared.

“ein…” you huff, shuffling against the crinkled sheets as he stands behind you. he’s barely spoken a word since he arrived, so angry that it’s a wonder he’s not foaming from the mouth. you feel ein’s chest rumble with something between a laugh and a growl, pushing you further into the creaking mattress.

oh, he’s furious.

“i don’t think i told you to talk,” he snarled, voice deep and gravelly.

how long have you been propped like this? it must of been an hour or so, based on the dull ache of your spread thighs. he’s barely even done anything, aside from drag pointed claws across your skin to taunt you and nip at your exposed shoulder. you’re entirely naked, stripped of any modesty the second your boyfriend got home, and splayed across the mattress like a piece of art for him to admire. ein’s in one of his meaner moods again, coming home with a scowl on his pretty features and a sadistic glint in his eyes. this happens more often than not now, fury being the only emotion he’s capable of experiencing.

it’s only right, as his doting partner, to allow him to take his frustrations out on you. besides, you get something out of it, too!

he hums, and whilst you’re unable to crane your neck to look at him, you can hear the faint thumping of his tail against the bed. in the dimly lit bedroom, the tension is palpable.

“i came back only wanting you.” he murmurs, but his sweet talk is tinted with something sinister. his words are accompanied by yet another deadly claw dragging across your shoulder before settling at the base of your throat, “could only think of you. . .”

“so fuckin’ pretty,” a gasp leaves your parted lips when you feel his body against yours. unfairly, he’s still clothed in the same garments that he had left your home in earlier this morning, “humans are disgusting.” he spits, mouth against your ear. something deliciously stiff presses against your thigh, a reminder that he doesn’t completely despise you for being human. “they’re weak, pathetic little vermin. inferior to werewolves.” one of his hands grip your hips, and you can’t listen to his rambling as this is the most he’s touched you since the fiasco began.

he groans, and pulls back, “real shame you’re human.” you whine from the loss of contact, the place between your thighs pulsing. if ein hears, he doesn’t care to make a comment.

his palm comes down hard, smacking the fat of your ass and watching as it moves under the impact. you yelp in surprise, and scold him but he only lets out a cruel chuckle. you don’t even know why he’s upset, just that he is and you’ll be the one to face the brunt of that pent up anger.

before you can register it, he’s flipping you over like you’re a ragdoll, and your back hits the plush mattress in a matter of seconds. he’s hovering over you, madness swirling around those grey eyes of his, and his lips find a home against yours. he’s kissing you — and fuck, you’re attempting to kiss him but it’s hard to keep up with the way his hips grind against yours and how one of his hands keep you pinned to the bed by your throat. most of his weight is on you, and his free hand is groping and kneading at any place he can reach.

ein drinks up every reaction, listening to your adorable whining that reminds him of whose the dominant one here, “yeah, a real shame.” he repeats, his lips assaulting your neck feverishly. the brush of pointed fangs against delicate skin makes your pussy throb. you can feel his hard on pressing against you through the jeans he’s wearing, rough denim brushing against your needy clit and making you gasp.

“ein…” you mewl, eyes glassy with unshed tears as you stare up at the man above you. he looks like a beast about to devour his prey with how his eyes are focused on your body.

he lets out another sound — a snarl — and is quick to discard of his own shirt, “if i don’t fuck you right now, i’ll go insane.” he hisses, and you don’t bother to correct that he probably already is.

instead, your hands fly to fumble with the buckle of his belt, unlatching the leather and nearly crying with he unzips his jeans. he doesn’t even bother to rid of his pants entirely, shoving them down just enough to free his leaking dick, and spitting in his hand.

“filthy humans.” he rambles, “thinkin’ they have any right to order me about— don’t they know their place? fuck… i should of sunk my claws into them. disgusting vermin. good thing you know where you belong, hm?” he laughs, head tilting back as he listens to himself talk. it’s like you’re not even there.

his fingers reach down, navigating your wet folds with a practiced expertise. when you’d first met him, he’d been shy but there was no trace of that now; a prideful, provoked man replaced the awkward boy you had fell in love with. he spat, aiming for your pussy, letting the excess trail down your quivering thighs.

your head was spinning — everything was fuelling the fire ignited under your skin. each touch and whisper making your blood burn.

“jus’ relax f’me, okay?” ein’s steel gaze locked onto yours, and he leaned down to press a sweet kiss onto your lips. it was a change of pace compared to the rough grabbing and tugging from seconds before. that didn’t last long, as the familiar burn appeared as he pushed in inch by inch. you were moaning, gasping at the stretch of his swollen tip, “y’can take it.”

he grinned, fangs glinting under the dim lighting, “i know you can.” he huffs out a laugh, as though you weren’t gripping him like a vice. shallow thrusts of his hips followed, selfish desire meaning you had little time to adjust before he was bullying the rest of his way into your poor cunt, veins dragging across your walls and panted breaths letting you know just how good he was feeling.

when he’s full sheathed inside, heavy balls resting against your ass, he groans. you flutter your lashes at him, and ein swears there’s nobody more perfect than you in this very moment — werewolf prejudiced aside. his lips curl, and presses a kiss to your hair, a mean contrast to the rate in which his hips are pushing in and out of you, “so good, so so good.”

your body is putty beneath him.

ein might be pussydrunk, lost in the feeling of your velvety walls and airy moans, but the anger still lingers in the back of his mind. it’s a reminder, to fuck his girl good so that you don’t get any ideas. he wants to fill your mind with thoughts of him, him, him.

“mine.” he declares, fingers curling into the sheets beside your bed. a wanton moan leaves your lips, legs wrapping around his hips to keep him trapped where you want him most. it’s dirty, it’s hot, it’s everything you could possibly need.

a shiver runs down your spine, maybe at his obvious possession, maybe at the way he’s driving into that sweet spot over and over, or maybe at the coil that tightens in your abdomen.

“so gorgeous, my pretty girl.” his hips don’t stop their pace for even a second, keeping your body pressed close as he fucks you like he hates you, “could just keep you here f’ the rest of my life.”

he’s ready to ruin you, push you to your limit.

“only one thing could make this even better,” ein’s eyes leave yours, gaze drifting down your body until he stops at the space below your belly button. a cunning smile overtakes his features, “if you were at least part wolf — even for just a little while.”

#𖤓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃.#ein x reader #ein aphmau #ein mystreet #mcd #mcyt #aphmau #aphblr #aphverse #mystreet x reader #mcd x reader #ein x you #mystreet x you #mystreet ein #mcd werewolves #werewolf #werewolves

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scribespirare · 11 months

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Hi, because I crave violence can you write a piece with Miguel scaring Miles? Probably just an accident (in the midst of battle, etc) or something but it's angsty on his end. Thanks so much for sharing flowerfang content by the way. 🥰

you asked for angst and i delivered >=3 hopefully

Sometimes, Miguel has rough nights.

Thoughts of his daughter, of the world he lost, of all the people he’s condemned to death across countless universes…

There’s a gym at HQ that’s used a lot less by the general spider public than Miguel would prefer. But at two in the morning when he can’t sleep, can’t think, can barely even fucking breathe, it feels like a blessing to find the space completely empty.

He works up a sweat on the first two punching bags. By the time he’s starting on the third his hair is plastered to his head and face and his heart is racing. He feels animal, primal, the burn and ache of his body drowning out everything outside of pure instinct. It’s such a fucking relief that he throws himself into the feeling completely

When the third punching bag finally splits, he finds that its swaying, yielding form no longer interests him. Neither do any of the weight machines, the treadmills, the step climbers. But this is Nueva York, and the high tech options are endless.

Miguel paces out into the virtual practice ring, pulling up a program he’d designed just for himself and setting it into motion with a flick of his wrist. Instantly he’s surrounded by tangible enemies, faceless but with the ability to actually hurt him, to fight back. He’s set them to one of the most vicious modes, made them agile and strong, and it’s exactly the kind of burn he needs.

He mows through them without any of his methodical precision, moving and attack like an animal instead. At no point does he even consider manifesting his arm blades, instead relying entirely on claws and fists, kicks and fangs. He rips. He rends. He tears down a hologram before the previous body has even finished despawning.

The program is designed to be realistic, to prepare spiders for what they may encounter in the field. So while it may be digital, the blood still flies around him, staining him red from crown to foot. Bits of entrails and flesh stick under his nails and between his teeth.

Miguel is so lost in the violence, the glorious, mind numbing violence, that he doesn’t hear the sound of the gym door’s opening. Doesn’t hear someone call his name.

Yet what finally does catch Miguel’s attention is the gasp, quiet and horrified, that Miles lets out.

Miguel whirls towards him, teeth and claws bared, and draws up short.

Miles is in his suit, mask pulled down, with a duffle tossed over his shoulder. There’s no reason for him to be here this early in the morning, no reason for him to be looking for Miguel of all people, and yet here he is. Those dark eyes of his are wide and his plush lips parted.

He takes a step back. Another.

“Miles?” Miguel tries to ask, but his voice is a harsh growl of sound, and Miles shakes his head sharp and fast. Then he turns and he’s gone, practically sprinting in his haste. The sound of his footsteps is lost under the roar of blood through Miguel’s veins. His body is still heaving with exertion, and when he glances down he realizes that the hand he’d held out to Miles is gore-covered.

There are still several faceless bodies at his feet that haven’t despawned yet. Digital blood pools sticky and dark all around his feet, and the sweat slicking his skin gives makes him feel like the spray of viscera across his suit is real and sinking through the fabric.

Without a word Miguel banishes the holograms and shuts the program down. The gore, the blood, the bodies; they all vanish. But Miguel remains. The teeth and nails and knuckles he’d used remain.

The thoughts of all that he’s lost come crowding forward, temporarily banished by the violence but now returned. His daughter. His wife. The person he used to be. Countless others.

If Miles hadn’t already been lost to him after everything before, he is now. Just one more person to add to the list. The tragedy with Miles is that Miguel hadn’t even had him to begin with. There’d been that one bright moment when they’d first met, when Miles had been hopeful and bright. And Miguel had crushed that under his heel like nothing.

The racing of Miguel’s heart has slowed into a dull thudding he barely notices. He feels thick, slow. Too full of thoughts and emotions. There are bruises and other small injuries starting to make themselves known from where the hologram beings had gotten their blows in, and he knows if he continues to cool down he’ll soon be stiff and sore all over from the over-exertion.

He could go find Miles, maybe.

Miguel turns and waves for the program to start up again. He doesn’t think as he falls back into the violence. He doesn’t need to. This is all he’s good for.

#asks #requests #flowerfang

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captainsamuelmorrigan · 1 year

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After the toe incident, Izzy starts getting night terrors, sometimes sleep paralysis. It starts small, Izzy's limbs feeling like dead weight as he watches Ed, eyes burning, staring at him from the corner of his room, his hands holding those goddamn scissors like a butcher's blade.

His nightmares are the worst. In his nightmares he loses his other toes, his feet, his legs, but worst of all, his dueling hand. He's tossed off the ship in pieces and parts, without any way to defend himself. He wakes up in cold sweats, and even Lucius from his vantage point in the walls can hear him whimper in the dead of night.

In true Izzy fashion though he tells no one, depends on no one. He gets more and more irritable, snapping at smaller and smaller things, and even Fang and Ivan have to start to avoid him because if they even look at him the wrong way he'll end up giving them a thorough tongue-lashing. He barely talks to anyone besides Edward anymore, and everyone notices the hushed tones he uses with him. Something has happened and everyone knows. Somehow, this makes Izzy even worse. A wounded animal is a dangerous one.

When Stede comes back, the whole ship dynamic changes again. Stede has become a real pirate in his time away, and Izzy is more relieved than mad at his return. He assumes that Ed will stop visiting his room in the dead of night. The monster has his princess, so the knight will be spared. Only, he still has those fucking nightmares. His aged mind plays tricks on him, there are now 2 figures. Along with Ed's burning look, there is Stede, his usual annoyingly bright smile becoming deranged, too wide for his face. The nightmares become Stede laughing his chirpy laugh as Ed rips him apart.

Izzy stops sleeping entirely.

After Izzy nearly passes out on deck, stumbling and muttering about, Stede's overprotectiveness of his crew wins out over his hatred of Izzy. He starts asking around, if anyone's heard anything or seen anything that might be keeping Izzy up. He even secretly tests the floorboards outside of Izzy's room to make sure they aren't squeaking. Eventually talking to Lucius, who talks about hearing Izzy crying and yelping in the night, and talking to Ed who admits to hurting him worse than he has before helps him piece together what's happened.

Immediately Stede sets a course for port. Izzy's room becomes the first and only room on The Revenge to have a lock on it.

Stede also drops a little Dad knowledge while Izzy happens to be in the room, in what Izzy can only describe as a stage whisper. "When my daughter started having nightmares, I got her a doll that my ex-wife and I told her would protect her from any harm." Isreal very much doubts a stupid doll could protect anyone from anything.

Nevertheless, Izzy starts sleeping through the night. He starts locking his door less and less, trying to subtly invite Stede or Ed into his space in small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of ways like he always has. His room isn't really one that anyone comes to, though Stede makes an effort, trying to follow the breadcrumbs that Izzy puts down to lead to a positive relationship with him.

The small, button-eyed plush cat staring at Stede from next to Izzy's pillow practically sends Stede into full blown mama-bear hysterics. Izzy threatens Stede that he will throw the stupid toy overboard if he ever mentions it again, so neither Stede, nor Ed talk about it in front of Izzy.

What matters is that "Smudge" makes Izzy feel safe enough to sleep through the night.

#ofmd #our flag means death #our flag means gay #izzy hands #dizzy izzy #israel hands #kind of stizzy idk

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rileyssmiles · 1 year

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Dungeons and Humans

In a fantasy setting where humans are tiny and the rest of the fantastical races are giant, a human woman that has been secretly assisting a party of adventurers finds herself in trouble when she is discovered by a curious tiefling. Word Count: 1,702

AO3 Link

“Come on out, little one," Allynna placed her palm near the crevice she saw the tiny being scurry into. "I won't hurt you." Her voice was soft and quiet. She made special care to hide her fangs behind her plush lips, so as to not further frighten the poor thing.

Inside, Lana pressed her body against the dark walls of the cavern. She held her hand over her mouth as she tried to steady her breathing. Every human clan had one rule in common: don't get caught. And now, she was trapped in a collapsing hole, with her only way out leaving her at the mercy of a monster with teeth almost half her size. She held her breath and continued to listen to the outside, hoping for an opportunity to escape.

"This is a waste of our time!" Ashero shouted. The highlands elf was rather grumpy. Though this was no news to his comrades, his poor attitude was amplified by the injury on his leg.

"This place could collapse any minute!" As if to reiterate his point, the ruins shook, and small pieces of rubble rained upon the adventurers' heads.

"Quit yer shoutin' and hold still! Yer gonna bring the whole damn place down on us!" Gamdon grumbled as he continued to wrap the elf's wounds. Their healer had already finished mending the more gruesome parts of the injury, it merely needed a few bandages. A simple process that would take but a moment, had Ashero not continued to fidget, much to the dwarf's annoyance.

Ashero impatiently tapped his fingers as he tried to remain still. He glanced at the blocked exit, noting Thailna, their half-blood orc, and Irala, their dark-elf healer, still struggling to move the rubble. Irala shifted smaller chunks, while Thailna attempted to dislodge the boulders and bulkier remains. He quickly looked away before they could catch him staring. He turned his attention back to Allynna, who was still preoccupied with the human hiding in the small fissure.

"Why are you so fascinated with that thing?" Ashero's hollers drew another shake from the ruins, and a glare from Gamdon

Without turning to address her colleague, Allynna replied,

"It's been helping us! I know it has!"

Ashero lifted his leg, nearly kicking poor Gamdon, and showed off his freshly wrapped wounds.

"Yeah, a real help it's been!"

"That's your own fault for darting ahead into the room unprepared! One disarmed trap at the entrance doesn't mean there aren't more inside! Besides, I saw it dragging supplies to our camp the other night! And, the markings on the walls that led us to the treasure room? I've never seen anything like them! The details are too small and intricate to have been drawn by anyone of the greater races. Plus, all the disarmed traps? What else could disarm those tiny, delicate, near-invisible plates, but something equally as tiny and delicate!"

Allynna's eyes lit up as she spoke of the fascinating deeds the human had done for her party. Perhaps she might've thought herself crazy, had she not seen it with her own eyes. Being a tiefling had a few benefits, dark vision being one of them. Her mother had taught her that if all else fails, trust her eyes. She had never really bothered with humans before, nor did she understand the other races' judgements of them, but this one had caught her attention. She had so many questions bouncing around in her mind. Where did it come from? How did it know about all the traps and treasures? And most importantly, why would it risk getting caught to help them?

She flicked her tail once more as she pondered what to do. It was clear the human was not going to come out willingly. However, if she forced it out, she would risk either frightening it, or bringing it unintentional harm.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the ground violently shook. Large chunks of rubble fell from the crumbling ceiling, narrowly missing Allynna. The shock from the near-miss caused her to jump to her feet. She turned to see her companions frantically dodging falling rubble as they packed their supplies and treasures.

"Good news is the exit is open! Bad news is it was the only thing holding this place together!" Thailna shouted as she ran down to help pack the heavier possessions.

"Well then, what the fuck are we waiting for! Let's get out of here!" Ashero replied with equal volume. He wasted no time packing what he could as he stumbled for the exit. The pain in his leg caused him to fall over flat on his face, dropping what little he had been carrying.

Gamdon retrieved the fallen items as Irala helped the admittedly embarrassed Ashero up. He placed his weight on her and used her as a crutch as they limped for the exit.

"Wait!" Allynna exclaimed as she once again bent down on her knees and held her palm to the crevice. "What about the human!?"

"What about it?!" Ashero's pained expression turned to annoyance. He was willing to deal with Allynna's nonsense under normal circumstances, but at this moment, their lives were in danger, and the pain in his leg had drained all his patience.

"It'll die in here!" Allynna cried with genuine worry in her voice. She couldn't let the poor thing die for their carelessness, not after it risked itself to help them.

"We'll die in here if we don't leave now!"

"Then I'll stay behind! I'll make sure everyone gets out and that we didn't leave anything!"

"What!? Are you insa-"

Irala forcefully pulled Ashero to the side, just managing to avoiding falling debris. The two fell, with Ashero landing on top of Irala.

"I-I-I apologize Master Oriven!" Irala stammered as she pushed Ashero off of her body and turned away, blushing. Ashero was about to scold her, but a shout from Gamdon reminded him of their current situation.

"By the Goddess, 'eres no time for 'is! Get up 'n' get movin'!" He helped both of them up, grabbed what he could, and rushed them through the exit.

With the rest of her friends safely escorted out, Thailna ran to Allynna's side. The younger woman was still attempting to coax the small creature out of its hole. Though clearly desperate, she still spoke in a hushed voice, ignoring the deafening noise of the collapsing cavern. Thailna placed her calloused hands on Allynna's shoulders. She knelt down next to her and calmly spoke to her friend.

"We need to go. Now."

She stared deep into Allynna's golden eyes, hoping she might give in. When she refused to move, Thailna sighed, rose to her feet, grabbed the last of their belongings, and moved for the exit.

"I know your mind is set. I'll be waiting outside. Don't take too long, I really don't want to have to drag you out kicking and screaming."

Thailna took her leave without looking back. She had known Allynna long enough to understand that when her mind was made up, nothing short of death would stop her. As she took a step out of the exit and into the light of the outside, she prayed to the goddess that Allynna would come to her senses before she had to drag her out.

Allynna was out of options and time. She flicked her tail and bit her lip as she reached into the crevice. She felt around the inside until she bumped into something soft and warm. She knew what she felt was the human. She grabbed it before it could escape. It struggled in her grasp, and she tightened her grip around it in response. She could feel the little creature still kicking and squirming in her hand.

"I'm sorry little one, please don't hate me!"

She took a deep breath and pulled it out of its hiding place. With her free hand, she opened the pouch hanging from her thigh, then carefully tucked the human away inside. She could feel the human's squirming die down as she closed the pouch. There would be time for apologies later. Right now, she needed to run. Without taking a moment to breathe, she raced for the exit as fast as her legs could carry her, never slowing down, not even when she had to dodge falling rocks as the ceiling caved in. She could see the light from the outside just ahead, but the collapsing tunnel was gaining on her. She picked up speed and dove through the exit as the last of the falling ruins sealed the opening behind her.

She landed belly down in the dirt, sliding a few feet from where she landed. Allynna let out an audible sigh of relief and turned over on her back. She made it.

Her relief quickly became panic as she had a sudden realization. The human! Had she accidentally crushed it when she dove through the exit?! Quickly, she ran her fingers over the small bulge in her pouch. When it moved in response to her touch, she once again let the wave of relief come over her.

"Nice landing, Allie." Thailna stood tall above her friend. She laughed as she watched Allynna's expression turn from surprise, to confusion, then to embarrassment. Grabbing her with one arm, she lifted her off the ground, and helped to brush the dirt off of her ragged garments. She gave her friend a hard pat on her back, before letting out a hearty laugh.

"Come on, we found a place to set up a new base camp before we head back to the city in the morning. Irala promised to cook up some of our leftover rations. Let's go catch up with the others before Gamdon eats it all again!"

Thailna continued to talk to Allynna as they walked deeper into the surrounding forest, but Allynna was only half listening. Her mind was preoccupied with other thoughts. More specifically, she was pondering just how she was going to explain her tiny passenger to her group. She placed her hand over the pouch and felt the human move again. It would have to wait, she decided. First, she needed a warm meal.

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gamblersdoll · 10 months

Text

Now, your dreams come to life.

Summary: Miguel was obsessed with you as a character and wanted you real, but what happens when you do one night?

Content warning: 18+, This is a spiderless AU, but you're a vampire. Praise, slightly submissive Miguel, oral (receiving) unprotected sex, Smut.

Just when he was getting off work. Damn.

His phone pinged, a new notification from his Twitter. Only meaning one thing.

A new fanart of you came up.

His heart clenched, and his pants were tight already on the drive home. He couldn't wait to see it.

Until he did, and his body became increasingly hot.

Your hair reached your hips, your plush lips coated with gloss, with a black tint. And with deep red eyes, watching him closely as he walked into his room, undressing.

"Ay por dios.." he mustered, rolling his neck and groaning.

"Why can't you be fucking real?" He whined, unbuckling his belt and his pants. He bit the back of his hand, not caring enough about pain.

He just wanted to cum to you.

His hand found its way to his cock, hissing a low breath as he pumped it slow, pre dripping from the tip and he fastened his pace.

"Oh.. fuck." He groaned, his cock ferociously fucking into his fist. He was so close already.

She watched from a distance, her fangs peaking through her lips, and she grew hungry. She licked her lips wet as she watched him clean up after his orgasm. Her heightened hearing caught up, though.

"I wish you were fucking real, cariño, my pretty vampire."

She chuckled.

The morning rolled in like a tide wave, Miguel blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He was scheduled to come in later that day so he could have time to himself. He finally checked his phone.

His heart sank. His Twitter went crazy.

"Adored and beloved vampire spotted, delusional, or reality?" The headline read.

He scoffed, reading the four hundred comments and replies under the post. He scoffed, growing agitated.

YNSLUVRGRLL: I kinda believe it? They said that saw a reflection..

YNSBLOODBAGG:replied to YNSLUVRGRLL: she's a vampire, idiot, vampires don't have a reflection :/.

Miguel wasn't impressed.

He wanted her to be real, but he knew it was just a fantasy of his of her. Vampires didn't exist, so she didn't. Or so he thought..

He finally came into work, getting several reports and bossing around, since he was. He finally had a look through his window.

If his heart could drop to his ass, it did.

He saw her, leaning against the railing and in a black hoodie and sweats. She stared through the window to his eyes. She licked her fangs, She was going to feed soon. It was all short-lived. She jumped over the railing, walking the streets of Nueva New York and into the busy streets.

He had to see for himself later.

But once he got home, he never knew his life would change. He walked in, smelling someone unfamiliar. He took off his shoes, padding around the apartment and to his room.

She smelled him, good.

She watched him walk around his room, undressing, until she spoke.

"Do you always go straight to sleep without checking your house?"

He jumped, spinning around, and his eyes met hers. His heart stopped, and he shook.

"You.. You're real?" He asked, dumbfounded. His heart raced, feeling his skin crawl. And his pants threatened to tighten. He walked to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. He stood tall at 6"9, and she stood at a whopping 5'2.

"Isn't this a surprise." She said, examining him. She sometimes liked playing with her food. She put her hand on his cheek, licking her lips. "You're scared, but happy, aren't you, Miguel?" She learned his name from people calling him that, and she chuckled.

He wanted her to know how much he adored her, even if this was a dream, he wouldn't mind. He had to.

He pulled her in, pressing his lips against hers. She felt cold but smooth. His fingers found a way through her hair, feeling her fangs graze his tongue and lips. His hands wandered, feeling the fullness of her breasts that he oh so wanted to feel for a long time. He groaned into the kiss, breathing heavily through his nose.

She kissed him, breaking it and kissing his jaw, then his neck. "You don't waste no time, do you?" She teased, biting into his neck and feeling the blood pool into her mouth, and she moaned in delight. Her hands wandered too, feeling his chiseled chest, his strong thighs, and then his hardened cock.

He threw his head back, groaning at the contact, and his voice died out into a whine. "Ay coño.. what the hell?" He whined out, feeling her teeth sink into his neck and her tongue licking. "You're so good.. You're so beautiful."

She pulled out of his throat, licking her lips, until she looked down to see his hands on the hem of her pants. He wouldn't beg, but he would take if he needed to. She nodded her head.

"Go on."

His heart raced, he was getting feral, and he ripped her bottoms off, revealing her underwear - he ripped those off, too. He pressed her against the wall, putting her legs on his shoulders as he licked a stripe on her clit.

She moaned, her fingers entangled in his dark brown locks of hair, and she groaned at the intrusion. His tongue poked through her glistening folds, and she started to moan.

"You taste so fucking good.." he said while muffled, her thighs squishing his head and he lightly sucked on her clit, pulling her closer to him. He shoved to fingers into her leaky cunt, pumping her full with them. His cock stirred in his pants, leaking pre and forming a wet stain on his trousers. "Such a pretty thing.." He whispered, curling his fingers on that gummy spot her own couldn't reach. She felt her eyes cross.

She felt her orgasm rip through her, tugging gently at his hair and choking on her own moans. He let her down gently, standing them both up to kiss her. He picked her up, bringing her thighs to his hips as he held them. She worked her fingers on his pants, his pants dropping and his cock sprung free, leaking pre and pressing against her clit.

"Need to fuck you.. oh fuck!" He growled, feeling her pump his cock with her fist, his hips snapped against her. "Can I? Please, pretty one."

"Yes, go ahead." She nodded, blood dried on her chin and the top of her breasts. He pushed his cock into her walls, warmth clouding both of their minds, minus skin. He waited for her to adjust to his size until he pulled his hips back and slammed against hers.

She gasped, feeling his tip slam against her core, knocking the wind out of her. She felt everything, him. She moaned, drool pooling to the side of her mouth, until his hand clasped over it.

"Shh.. you'll get me a noise complaint the way you screaming 'fer me." He cooed, his hips snapping to hers at a brutal pace. She put a hand on the wall, attempting to steady herself. She felt him shake, alarming her that his own climax was reaching.

"Oh! fuckfuckfuckohmygod!" He whimpered, his thighs quivering as he reached his tipping point.

She'd do it again, she clenched on him, watching him crumble as his orgasm rip through him.

"Fuck!" He growled out, resting his head on her shoulder. His breathing slowed, his grip on her thighs loosened. He thought it was all done, until it wasn't.

She retracted her fangs again, sinking her teeth into his neck, and Miguel's eyes widened while he grit his teeth. He growled softly. "Forgot you needed to feed." He growled out, that turned into a chuckle.

She pulled away, satisfied with her fill, and chuckled.

"So.. You're not gonna just disappear after all this and become fictional again.. right?" He asked, fear in his veins as she looked up at him.

"Don't think so.." she whispered out, licking her fangs and kissing his cheek. "I'll be here." She said, licking the trail of blood trickling slightly from the punctures on his throat.

"Good."

This work was inspired by @therobloxpro36 on tiktok, and ill be making a part 2 maybe.. I know it's not the best but it's my first work.

#miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse

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themonotonysyndrome · 7 months

Text

Bound by hearts, not by blood

It's here! It's finally here! Happy birthday, darling @moonandstarlightsposts! DSJFBDSJ - I had so much fun writing this bday gift for you. Can you believe it? Before this, I've never written anything about our ladies - Kalina and Farah. Well, that changed now! I know how much Kalina means to you, so I hope I did her justice.

(This bday gift contains headcanon from a Redacted fan @/running-tweezers. You'll know which one when you read it.)

Anyway, happy birthday, wifey! I hope you'll have a wonderful day! And thank you @Broccoli for the fanart~

Summary: While unwinding with two of his friends, William Solaire is delightfully surprised when Bright Eyes crashes their night.

In scenes where old and new money rubs elbows underneath glimmering chandeliers, it's common knowledge that William Solaire is never without an attractive face at his side. No matter the event, a betting pool and a letter of invitation addressing the Frenchman go hand-in-hand with tongues wagging: "Have you heard who William Solaire is bringing tonight?"

They differ from time to time - flashes of the paparazzi's camera couldn't get enough of the Victoria Secret's model that was his plus-one during the Met Gala. His business associates at the Festival de Cannes flocked around; their inquires concealed by a barely polite veneer about the handsome actor clasping his arm. No matter where he goes, a man with a powerful sway in the international real estate market, a net worth beyond $1 million and air about him as if he steps out of a Renaissance painting, a spotlight will always shine on William Solaire and by extension, anyone he associates with.

For the Empowered world, William's beaus never made it in the newspapers. What stirs every topic of conversation, though, is when the Solaire Patriarch is attended by two of his women. A pleasant evening can turn into a political nightmare whenever a Vampire King is accompanied by a pair of Old Bloods after all.

But tonight, the world sighs in relief for William is with friends instead of bodyguards, basking in their company with vintage red wines on a silver tray. A roaring fireplace lit up the leisure room, and warmth seeps through hidden corners. The chilly night air is Autumn's herald, but the three Vampires are tucked away inside a beautiful manor.

"This is an excellent Pinot Noir, Kalina dear," Reclining on a plush armchair, William toasted his glass in appreciation. "Is this Cheval Blanc 1947?"

Moroz Kalina, clad in nothing but a red lingerie and a pair of high heels, shakes her head. Her golden hair tumbles off her shoulders like a waterfall. The red marabou robe drape on her body paints an alluring image of the woman. "Penfolds Grange Hermitage from 1951. Thought you might like it." Her Slavic accent is thick and sensual, especially when she caresses every word that leaves her lips.

As someone with a palate that had been delicately cultivated over the years, William raises his glass again. This time, to the Ukrainian Vampire for her immaculate taste in wine.

"I do so enjoy these moments together. It's a welcoming reprieve from a tiresome day." William admits, setting aside his now empty glass. "I hope neither of you will take it to heart that I often relieve my burdens here."

Kalina tries to shrug but can't because of the body leaning against her left side. So she waves a dismissive hand. "We have spent our years together for far too long to be petty. You need to complain, William? Then complain. The night is still young after all and we always have a spare room for you here."

"You're cooking breakfast if you're staying, though," A new voice chimes in. The woman who has her head nestled on Kalina's shoulder yawns, shadows from the hearth dance across her glistening fangs. Unlike the two who had been drinking, she let the warmth of the fire lull her into a sleepy stupor with her legs tucked on the sofa-bed. In contrast to Kalina, who looks as if she just stepped out of a photoshoot, this Old Blood is wearing a tiny pair of black panties and a grey crop top that fails to cover her generous breasts; Simple in terms of sleeping garb but no less breathtaking when it comes to beauty. "I've been craving for something French ever since we came back from Champagne." Farah - William's second most trusted Old Blood - added.

Kalina grins, lightly nudging her. "Did you not eat a Frenchman last week? Was he not enough?"

"I meant food, Sayang (Love). I shouldn't have drunk from him, anyway. He was a chain smoker. That shit taint even the blood." Farah turned her nose up in a grimace.

"My poor Lady," Kalina coos. Her grin is then directed to an amused William. "There you go. We insist that you stay, William. It has been a while since you amazed us with your culinary skills. I am also looking forward to breakfast now."

"Then I best not disappoint. Do either of you have any special requests?"

The trio discussed the finer details of tomorrow's menu and compared it to what's available in the pantry and fridges. While blood will always be sustenance to Vampires, eating food is one of the aspects of humanity that none were willing to lose. Farah, in particular, has a fondness for the cuisines of the world.

" - saw this one video from a Korean YouTuber. She made breakfast scrambled but the ingredients were Boujee. I think we might have the ingredients since I ordered some groceries from Whole Foods. I'll share the link - " Farah suddenly stopped rambling. Kalina makes a questioning hum when she detaches herself from her side and pads to the large window beside the fireplace. A cold breeze sweeps in as Farah takes a step back.

The three silently watch as a body tumbles through the window in a mess of limbs and an oversized hoodie.

A painful and muffled groan echoed in the leisure room. "I deserve that major L..."

William recognises that voice. He straightens up in his seat and with bewilderment coloured the low timbre of his voice, he asks, "Littlest one? Are you alright?"

Farah drops to her knees. She uses whatever healing Magic in her arsenal to close up the cuts on Bright Eyes' exposed skin - their face and hands. Bright Eyes roll to their back, making no move to get off the carpeted floor.

"Like a horse on Ketamine!" The youngest Vampire in the Solaire Clan declares with a thumbs up in the air.

William's eyebrows knit in concern. That becomes apparent when two of his dearest friends merely chuckle. He kept any reservations to himself and, instead, observed carefully how Kalina and Farah treated Bright Eyes; Frederick's Progeny and the ward of a very reluctant Sam. It's no secret to anyone in the Clan that the tension wove between those three is thicker and more complicated than any spider's web. No secret as big as a pair of young adults murdered by a trespassing Old Blood on home turf can be kept, so the grapevine exploded before William could even officially welcome the two new young Bloods. William would like nothing more than to step in, guiding Sam through a landmine of emotions (both his and theirs), but it wouldn't be ethical since he served as their leader first and foremost.

At times like this, William hates how the crown serves as his ball and chain. At times like this, he's grateful for Vincent's discretion and his ability to seamlessly slide himself into any situation without politics weighing him down.

"Frederick is settling down at his own pace," William's Second Blood reports during a dinner together. William personally delivered a list of his Progeny's favourite blood type to his chef just for the occasion. Vincent had built a solid rapport with the young man, enough to be considered as a friend, and that deserved a reward. "He's thinking about enrolling at D.A.M.N; said he used to enjoy studying at his old university. Sam's probably gonna give him a crash course about it soon."

"And what of young... Bright Eyes?"

Vincent hesitated. "If they're not snapping their new baby fangs at me, they enjoy throwing words around like a flashbang. Most of the time, I think they speak English, but what do I know apparently? I don't live on Reddit or 4Chan's comment threads." He explained, playing it cool, but William felt the suspicion underneath.

"And here I thought you're quite up-to-date with the modern lingo, Vincent."

Vincent huffs. "There's modern lingo and there's thrash talk from the Internet. Bright Eyes has a Master on the latter because I can barely keep up when they start talking in gaming terms."

And that's all William could get about Bright Eyes. A temperamental and wise-cracking Newborn with a hidden depth in them.

Watching how wide Farah smiles as she carries a stammering Bright Eyes into her arms and dumps them on the sofa so she and Kalina can box them opens up a whole new perspective for William. First off: He had no idea that the three of them were close enough for Bright Eyes to break into their home through the window.

"Oh, Маленка(Kiddo)... while that was certainly more graceful than that time you tried to - hmm, what is that word? Wiggle? Ah, yes - down the chimney, what happened to the key that we gave you?" Kalina croons, her breasts smothering the Not-So-Newborn in a warm hug. A brutal combat medic on the battlefield. A head-turning 'ɡädəs (goddess) on the streets and Farah's Heart - those are the familiar labels associated with Kalina. Maternal never once made it into the repertoire, but here she is, lavishing Bright Eyes with all the comforts akin to a doting yet exasperated mother.

"It accidentally fell into the toilet when I was flushing it along with his watch." Bright Eyes confessed with a dramatic gasp of air. Finally able to escape from the older Vampire's bosom. They didn't squirm away like William thought they would. Instead, Bright Eyes made themselves comfortable between them.

"Aku lah... budak nakal betul!" ("Honestly... what a naughty child!") Farah retorts in her native tongue - Bahasa Melayu. Her smile turns amused as she perches her elbow onto the armrest with her head resting on her palm. "Vincent did something again to annoy you?"

"He came by when I was tryna helped Ricky study for a damned test paper - "

"The school isn't damned - " William can't help but mutter as an interjection but at the same time, he's too fascinated by Bright's ranting to stop them.

"And he wouldn't stop hovering like a Karen in front of the cash register at Starbucks! It was annoying! I bet his orders are just like those caucasoidal femoids - "

Kalina snorts while William realises that it was a mistake to drink again.

"And you'd think he took the hint when I dissed that he's 3 edges away from being a Sonic OC but the guy just stares at me as if he had a concussion!"

"And then?" Farah prompts.

"Then I said the RGB lighting inside of his new car looks like a noob Twitch streamer set up so that was a major L for him and he ran to the kitchen but not before I pulled a Sneak 100 and grabbed his Patek Phillip."

William blinks. Farah snickers. Kalina pats on Bright's shoulder, looking a bit proud.

"I sympathise Vincent's plight now." For the first time in a long while, the Solaire King is utterly out of his depths. He had no clue how he should react to the verbal onslaught that came out from his Great Grandprogeny.

Thankfully Farah takes pity on him, "Stick around long enough and they'll start making sense."

"I... see." Well, if anything, William is quite good at rolling with the punches. Plus, nonsensical ramblings or not, he's not passing the opportunity to learn more about his youngest Blood, whether Bright Eyes acknowledges that or not. "Then please, treat me as your eager student."

William didn't miss the surprise flashes across their face. Like a veteran actor, a mask slides back into place to hide their minuscule reaction. William can hazard a guess that they thought he was about to rebuke them for making fun of Vincent. It makes him wonder if that is a habit of Sam's.

"I-I didn't know you guys were busy," Bright Eyes stammers, clearly trying to figure out their footing against him. Their eyes sneak a glance to their sides, gauging Farah and Kalina's temperament even after receiving a warm welcome from William's most powerful enforcers. "Uh... sorry for crashing your pow-wow. You guys gettin' hammered?"

"We invited dear William for companionship and good wine to celebrate his return from overseas," Kalina explains, picking up her glass again. It was still half-full so she threw another carefree toast at William. "He has worked hard for us. Our King deserves to rest his crown for a night, no?" She teases and downs her wine to the very last drop.

William doesn't deign to roll his eyes but does refill his glass. An image of a curious kitten comes into mind when Bright Eyes leans into Kalina's now empty glass to sniff at it.

"Whoa! It's like my nose being plugged by liquorice!" Bright Eyes exclaims. Childish wonderment shines through their nickname. A part of William - who suffers through turmoil after turmoil during the first few years of his Turning - is relieved. Despite everything, there's still some innocence left in his littlest one. A Vampire's heightened senses are a lot to take in, so William is glad that Bright found some humour in it.

Meanwhile, Bright Eyes thrust their arms to the tray beside Kalina, making grabby hands at the wine bottle. One of Kalina's finely shaped eyebrows raises in inquiry even though the young Vampire's gesture is well understood.

"Use your words, Маленка (Kiddo)."

"Fine... can I please have the liquorice-smelling drink so I can get hammered too? C'mon, Kalina. It's a celebration, right? A party!" Here Bright Eyes cast a pleading glance at William. Though their lower lips wobble, a calculative gleam pierces through their eyes.

William didn't verbally defend Vincent when Bright sort of bullied him. He can almost hear the gears running in their head: Just how far can I push this man who can easily rip my head off into drawing his line in the sand? It's a survival tactic; against an unknown threat, the best course of action is to gently push the predator - to gauge its reaction - and then pull back before it has a chance to attack you. William doesn't need a Seer to tell him that Bright Eyes will grow into a formidable Vampire in a couple of centuries with a mindset like theirs.

However, Farah chose to interject. She rubs Bright Eyes' back. "Tell you what, I'm craving something sweet. We got some of those ice-creams that you like. Sundaes for a Sunday - what do you think?"

Childlike glee overtakes cold, calculation on Bright Eyes. It's an endearing look to William. They sprint away, followed by Farah at a much slower pace. A reasonable distance rests between the kitchen and the leisure room so that William and Kalina can converse without having to mind Vampiric sensibilities. But just in case...

"De toutes les choses que j'attendais ce soir, Bright Eyes a été une délicieuse surprise." ("Of all the things I expect tonight, Bright Eyes' came as a delightful surprise.") William comments, that tenor voice adds a layer of beauty to his native tongue.

The three of them - William, Kalina and Farah - had lived long enough and travelled well enough that mastering languages became as easy as collecting foreign postcards.

Wine forgotten for now, Kalina sets aside her glass in favour of eyes fixing on the door behind her King. "Ми з Фарах ніколи не мали звички відмовлятися від безпритульних. Особливо таких поранених, як Брайт." ("Farah and I are never in a habit of turning away strays. Especially one as wounded as Bright,") She drawls when her eyes turn to William, they hardened. "Ваш герцог засліплений своїм горем, спричиненим вашою принцесою. Замість того, щоб залікувати свої рани, він зганяє їх на тому, хто страждає від наслідків, які він не може контролювати." ("Your Duke is blinded by his grief caused by your Princess. Rather than heal his wounds, he takes it out on someone who suffers consequences out of their control.")

William can't refute that he's blindsided by her observation, not when he harbours similar suspicion whenever he sees how Sam treats Frederick and Bright Eyes. The difference was a cause for concern and yet...

"Qui doit intervenir ? Le roi ? Mais alors j'abuserais de mon autorité sur ceux que je considère comme ma famille," ("Who should step in? The King? But then I'd be abusing my authority on those I considered family,") William closes his eyes. "Samuel ne se sent pas à l'aise de me voir autrement que comme son supérieur et le jeune Bright Eyes n'a pas encore décidé si j'étais un ami ou un ennemi. Ni l'un ni l'autre n'apprécierait mon intervention." ("Samuel is not comfortable seeing me other than his superior and young Bright Eyes is still deciding if I'm a friend or foe. Neither would appreciate my intervention.")

Helplessness isn't a foreign concept to William; it's an old friend even. However, it's been a long, long time since it came to visit him.

"Семюель встановив свої кордони з тобою. Брайт ще ні," ("Samuel laid down his boundaries with you. Bright has not yet,") Kalina surmised, her beautiful expression vacant as she pondered. "Я думаю, що знаю спосіб, як ви можете їх завоювати. Цій дитині буде корисно мати більше людей на своєму боці." ("I believe I know a way that you can win them over. It will be good for that child to have more people in their corner.")

William has been wanting to dote on a GrandProgeny for about, oh, a century now. Alexis and Vincent were so quick to fly off from the proverbial nest that he missed how noisy the mansion could be. Hmm. Perhaps if he's able to understand Bright Eyes, they in return, will indulge his doting.

Seeing eagerness dawn on William made Kalina chortle. She likes him like this - free of the crown, allowing the ever-curious and ever-hopeful man to emerge.

William leans forward and laces his fingers together, a picture of attentiveness. "J'adore les bonnes histoires. Dis-moi, quoi que tu prévoies, est-ce la même méthode que celle qui permet de ramener un chat errant dans un foyer chaleureux?" ("I do so love a good story. Tell me, whatever it is that you're planning, is it the same method that corrals a stray cat into a warm home?")

They both can hear footsteps and chatter returning to the leisure room so Kalina playfully leans forward to whisper. "Після того, як ви забезпечили їжу та ліжко, на черзі іграшки та ігри. Тобі пощастило, Вільяме - Брайт давно не грався з нами." ("Once you made food and bed available, next comes toys and playtime. You are in luck, William - it's been a while since Bright played with us.")

The door swings open just in time. Farah and Bright Eyes return with triumphant smiles akin to conquers. Kalina spread her arms wide and Farah assumed her prior position, only this time, she's carrying a tall glass of crisp rice treat sundae with a generous helping of maple syrup. Meanwhile, Bright Eyes is holding up two sundaes. They hesitate at the doorway before marching towards William. The Vampire King is utterly delighted when they thrust one of the sweet treats to him.

"Oh my, thank you ever so kindly, littlest one," William smiles beatifically and accepts his sundae. A familiar scent twitches his nose. "Vanilla ice-cream topped with lightly grilled strawberries and glazed in balsamic, what an interesting combination."

Bright Eyes chooses to perch on a window seat, not unlike that of a spoiled cat. Their sundae is peanut butter ice-cream topped with salted pretzel sticks and garnished with slices of bananas and drizzled with honey - a dentist's nightmare. "Yeah, I saw you snacking on strawberries during that dinner party. Vanilla 'cause... ya know. Balsamic to match your Boujee vibe." And with that, they quickly shove spoonful after spoonful of ice-cream into their mouth to avoid speaking further.

How is it possible for fondness to bloom like a field of sunflowers? Bright Eyes' silliness inspires William to write poetry about the early years his Progenies came into his life, including Sam, Frederick and Bright Eyes. For now, he enjoys how flavours dance on his tongue. "Delicious. I do believe I have a new favourite dessert."

Bright Eyes let out a tiny smile. They bit their lower lip, hesitant about something - only for a split second though. "I heard you spoke French just now. I'm sorry, by the way. That's got to be my least favourite disability."

William's spoon freezes in mid-air, in between his gaping mouth and sundae glass. The man is too stupefied to speak.

"William?" Kalina suddenly chimes in, currently enjoying being spoonfed by a doting Farah and the look on William's face. The two women shared a beaming smile before mischievous eyes trailed to him. "Would it be too much of a trouble to reschedule the patrol roster tonight?"

"Not at all. Do you want to take over tonight's shift?"

"It's a full moon tonight. WonderWorld will soon come alive, yes?"

Bright Eyes notices the change in expression on William and Farah - a secret smile is shared between the Old Bloods and it immediately hooked Bright Eyes' curiosity. "Aite. Emergency meeting: y'all look Sus with a capital S. Too bad this isn't my spaceship or I'd eject the three of you."

"You can't eject 3 Crew members at once." Farah is quick to correct them.

Bright Eyes stick their tongue out, the perfect picture of petulant.

"You have never been to WonderWorld on a full moon, have you?"

"Nada. Why? What's happening tonight?"

"A rite of passage."

Tony is 14 years old. But tonight? Tonight he'll be a man.

"Here we are brats. Wonderworld!" One of the older teenagers - Noah - spread his arms like an expert showman to the abandoned amusement park before them. If it weren't for the moonlight, darkness threatened to consume the entire area. Standing underneath the street lamps alongside the second youngest generation of the Shaw Pack, WonderWorld looks like a scene taken straight from a horror movie. For the Empowered World, that isn't too far off the mark.

Tony did his best to ignore the anxiety threatening to stop his heart. If Noah and his gang knew just how scared he was, they wouldn't stop teasing him.

Noah clapped his hands - it was so loud that it startled Tony and his friends who were lost in their own thoughts. "Alright, listen up! The dare is simple: each one of you will sneak into WonderWorld, do one lap and come back here, got it?" The older boy explains, his eyes scanning the pre-teens that followed him tonight. He relishes the sadistic glee at their terrified expressions. "The only rule is not to get caught by Vamps. Simple enough. So, Tony, you're up!"

Tony's feet take a step back before he even knows it. Two of Noah's friends burst out laughing.

He'd probably started running in the opposite direction (So what if the older teens drove them here? He'll walk back home if he wants to!) if it weren't for his best friend clutching his hand. Rachel squeezes it before narrowing her eyes at a grinning Noah with all the righteous fury Tony knew that burned in her kind heart.

"What? Why does Tony have to go first!?"

"It's what we all agreed in the car, remember? And by all, I mean me so chop-chop, Tony. The moon isn't going to wait for your ass all night." Noah made a show of checking the time on his phone with a bored look.

"That's not fair! Who died and made you Alpha!?"

"Fine, by all means, you can go first then. And just for that, Rachel has to do a double lap."

"You son of - "

"It's OK, Rachel. I-I don't mind going first." Tony softly interjects. The thought of Rachel walking around in the dark abandoned amusement park longer than she has to scare him more.

Some of Rachel's ire disappear like smoke. Concern knit her eyebrows together. "You sure? I don't mind going first. Honest!"

Tony shrugs, putting on a brave face. "How hard can it be? I'm just going in and out ASAP while dodging Vamps."

"That's the spirit, Tony!" Noah cheers and roughly claps Tony's back. He winces. Noah's friends waste no time separating Tony from Rachel and the others and shove him to the rusty gates of WonderWorld. "Good luck in there." He sniggers.

Tony gulps. He tosses one last look at a worried Rachel before steeling himself. He then turns on the flashlight feature on his phone and takes the first careful steps into the park. WonderWorld saps all the light the deeper he treads inside, and soon enough, the light from his phone can barely pierce through what's behind the vegetated-infested carousel. His beating heart is so loud even to his ears and that just adds more fuel to his anxiety.

Because if Tony can hear his own heart, surely any Vampires could hear him before they even see him. He shoves that thought aside before it paralyses him.

The carousel marks the entrance and only exit of the park. So when Tony passes by a corner of ruined Bumper Cars and a broken sign that directs visitors to a decrepit Haunted House, he knows that he's halfway through WonderWorld. Feeling like he can afford a quick break, Tony studies the signboard in morbid curiosity. "Oh, I'm not going to be the first victim in any horror movie!"

The Ferris Wheel in the distance looms over as Tony continues his round.

It's eerie, yes, but his heart gradually settles down. So far, his luck is coming through - no one knew just how many Vampires patrol the area each night but perhaps they're taking a break tonight?

Tony is feeling good about this -

The rustling of chains nearby shatters the silent night. The hairs on the back of his neck stand attention. Tony's heart resumes beating furiously.

He spins to where the sound is coming from, the brightly lit phone shaking in his grip. Sweat runs down his back when nothing but dangling chains hang from the rusted foundations of a fallen Roller Coaster.

"It's just the wind..." Tony whispers to himself, his breath heavy. His eyes search wildly for any figures behind steel bars. "Just the wind... You're OK." Not wanting to push his luck, Tony jogs away. A tiny part of his brain is screaming at him not to make any noise against the gravel.

Yet no matter how desperately he tries to silence the fear pumping through his heart and unstable footsteps, something is stalking him.

They came in the form of heavy boots crunching on dead leaves behind him. A barely-there silhouette slinking on his left. A once lifeless wooden log suddenly topples from the water slide. The sound of it crashing to the ground nearly snatches Tony's soul.

"Who's there!?" He squeaks, phone spinning in all directions with a paranoid, frantic edge. He can no longer recall where exactly he is in this expansive park. Is he close to the entrance? Did he loop around the familiar-looking carousel? And in the name of everything that's holy -

Is something getting closer?

Tony struggles to breathe now, legs rooted to the ground. His mind all but scrambled, trying to come up with a rational solution: maybe it's just a racoon... a racoon that can shove off a large, rideable wooden log... but still! It's possible! Because Tony and the rest all heard of what Vampires do against Empowered trespassers - they got chased away. That's it.

So whatever this something is? It can't be -

"Hey guys, welcome to episode 666 of my Minecraft Let's Play!"

Tony's scream was so loud that it could jumpstart the heart of every Vampire in Dahlia back to life.

Against everything that Tony assumed, that something turns out to be a Vampire! A Vampire that's grinning ear-to-ear while holding up a peace sign.

"Greetings, traveller! I am the pitbull of this park."

"Mr. Worlwide!?" He squeaks, words just flying out without a thought. However, that just makes the Vampire's grin near maniacal.

"No, no - more of the das kindershredder version. It's from a German bedtime story, you understand, right?"

Tony could only gulp.

"Anyway, legend has it that once a year, on the night of a full moon, a fur fest is conducted right here in our glorious crack den for the rejected, the incels and most importantly, the fuckbois. You can thank Vincent for that last one. And since life is just a Bulgarian, you must be tonight's unstolen car."

Now, any sane person who knew better than to live on the Internet would think that the Vampire lost a couple of their marbles but Tony is many things - hypocrite is not one of them especially since it's his life mission to make a career out of his TikTok account with his Hot Takes™ about Sigma Males.

"I-I didn't mind going first..." Tony mumbled. His face then pulls a scowl, anxiety gradually leaving his body. "Though, did you have to try and kill me via jumpscare? I thought you Vamps just chased us off!"

The Vampire had the audacity to shrug. "I'm just built differently, very Willed Smitherently." They then lean down to offer Tony a hand. The crazed grin dimmed to a more... humane smile.

Tony mentally debates with himself, only for a few seconds. While he can't quite get a grip on the Vampire's vibe, it's best not to piss them off. So he lets them pull him off the ground. "Are you going to chase me out now?"

"Nah, it's not fun running around this place while you can't see and there's a maniac with fangs chasing after you," While their voice retains that devil-may-care tone, a flash of self-loathing morphs the Vampire's face. As the unofficial 'runt' of the litter, it's like looking in a mirror. A sense of understanding and camaraderie starts to bloom within Tony. "Anyway, I think that's enough OSHA violation for one night - what's your name, kid?"

"Anthony Santoro. My friends call me Tony."

"Mamma Mias and meatballs. I dig it. So here's the deal, Tony - can I call you Tony? - Mr. Solaire said that we're pretty tight with your Pack, so any wolfy trespassers aren't to be harmed. So since I'm not in the mood to run around after you, how about we just chill instead? We can grab the others and hang out at McDonald's or something. You game?"

Now that they mentioned food, a fright can really make you go hungry, but - "I'm sorry, uh - "

"They call me Bright Eyes. The most certified crack-concentrated Earl of the House of Solaire."

"O...K? Um, while a burger sounds good right about now, I - we can't just leave in the middle of our dare. Noah and his gang would never live it down if I backed out now."

The Vampire - Bright Eyes - folded their arms across their chest. For the first time since they met, their grin vanishes. "Now would be a perfect time for an exposition cutscene."

Tony delivers just that. Some confessions come easier in the dark and with a stranger whom Tony has a strong suspicion shares more than one plight.

" - but they're too chickenshit to do anything to us whenever the Pack is under one roof. Noah's a jerkface but he knows better than to do anything while Alpha Shaw is around."

Bright Eyes snorts. "Yeah, no shit. I've met him. Alpha Shaw has enough male hormones to transition someone just by standing beside him. You know, I think your Alpha would've been fine even without a Mate. He has so much testosterone oozing from every orifice that he can create a son via mitosis."

He can't help it; Tony immediately bursts a gut laughing. It's absurd to even imagine the Vampire and Uncle David being in the same room. "Uncle David might look scary but he's really n-nice," Tony hiccups, rubbing his wet eyes. "But whenever he's not around, Noah would drop his nice guy act. Rachel said he once grabbed someone's wheelchair handles without even asking for permission! He then pushed them around the store as if he was doing them a great favour. I think he just likes the look on their face."

Rather angered, Bright Eyes looks positively ecstatic. They clap their hands once, "He's an Ableist! That's awesome 'cause I'm a Cainist! BRB, these pockets need stuffing." Without another word, they squat on the ground and crabwalk away. All the while muttering themselves about 'biblically accurate rocks'.

Tony is unsure if he should offer his help or not. This has been the most surreal night in his life! Turns out he didn't need to do anything because their conversation had attracted more Vampires.

He hears before he even sees them.

The definitive 'crunch' of a pair of high heels on gravel comes from the shadows of the run-down booths. A new Vampire stalks forward. She wears a simple pair of jeans and a red blouse; with her hair pulled up in a ponytail, cheekbones and eyeliner sharp enough to cut someone, it reminded Tony of those Empresses from SouthEast Asia that the school printed in history books.

Once again, rooted on the spot, Tony could only gulp when the Vampire studied him with a wry smile. She then turns her head to the side and says, "You wanted Bright to make friends tonight. Unconventional means aside, I think they did a good job, Moonbug."

From Tony's right, another Vampire emerges from the darkness - boxing him completely. This one is a tall, blonde beauty wearing a tight black dress and a pair of strap-on heels. If the one in red reminds him of an Empress, this one has a strong witchy vibe. As discreetly as possible, Tony's eyes flicker to Bright Eyes, still in the midst of perusing the best rocks for stoning. Is he on his own then?

"Of course they would relate more with the younger generations. Their fire burns with youthful vigour."

Every instinct within Tony is screaming at him to run, to escape. Unlike Bright Eyes, these two are Old Bloods. It doesn't make sense, though; the Uncles and Aunts in the Shaw Pack mentioned that Old Bloods are a rare sight in WonderWorld. They didn't patrol nightly but no one really knows what they do in the Solaire Clan.

The blonde woman pulls back her lips into a sweet smile, her eyes half-lidded as she bends to get a good look at him. "Your heart is beating so fast, дитинча (little cub) or should I call you, зайчику? (little bunny?)"

Should he Shift? But Bright Eyes said that the Solaire Vampires don't harm members of the Shaw Pack.

The woman in red shakes her head fondly. "I think he has enough fright for one night, Kalina. Let's save it for the others."

Kalina pouts but backs off. "Oh, very well Серденько (My Heart)." She clears her throat and some of that intimidating vibe is toned down. "Introduction is in order, yes? My name is Moroz Kalina and this is my everything, Nik Farah of Perak."

The other Old Blood inclines her head in greeting. "I mostly go by Farah after the 18th century. You can't exactly remain a Queen after you've Turned."

So Tony was right! However, Kalina continues on.

"And I believe you have already met Bright Eyes."

"A-ha! This looks good enough to give someone a concussion!"

Tony warily scans all three Vampires. "Uh... do I need to introduce myself again or..." His heckles rise once more when Kalina laughs. Did he overstepped!?

"Thank you, but no need. We all heard it earlier. It is very admiral that you could keep up with our littlest one."

Farah chips in next. "This is Bright's first time, you know; patrolling on the night of your rite of passage. We thought it would be a perfect way for them to make friends outside of the Clan."

"I see..." But Tony's first question remains unanswered. "What happens now? If you guys aren't going to chase me off, do we - " He makes a wide gesture to the empty park. " - just chill right here? Does McDonald's do deliveries to WonderWorld!?"

"About that," Kalina takes over the conversation when Farah excuses herself and goes over to where Bright Eyes is. Tony absentmindedly stares as the Old Blood wipes their dirty palms with a handkerchief, lightly chastising them for picking up rocks with sharp edges. "While we would never step into the affairs of your Pack due to mutual respect and friendship, we would like to explain Bright Eyes' proposal further. I assure you, Mr. Santoro, we will personally drive each one of you home and at the same time, you can enact a bit of a harmless revenge against those older boys that you talked about."

Tony's eyes widened, and her words bounced in his head. Revenge against Noah and his gang? That... that does sound appealing but despite how good of a relationship the Pack is with the Clan, he can't just simply trust a bunch of strangers! Rachel would be so disappointed in him!

Kalina tilts her head, her golden hair falls over one shoulder. Her smile turns to proud. "You are not convinced. Good. That is a smart brain on your shoulders, дитинча (little cub). William! Come introduce yourself. Your words weigh heavier than mine."

Tony's heart plummets to the ground when a very familiar-looking man shows up. He and literally everyone in the Pack will always see this man at every important occasion that Uncle David hosts. Despite that, his smile is the kindest Tony has ever seen on anyone other than his Mum, no one can mistake how power drapes over his shoulders like a cape. So no matter how friendly he is, no one other than the Alpha, his Mate, the Beta and also his own Mate dare to approach him.

Because William Solaire isn't a man anyone can approach.

But here he is, approaching Tony instead. In fact, a panicking Tony has no idea why the Vampire King is coming towards him as if they're old friends!

"Thank you, dear Kalina. I'm so very excited to meet Bright's new friend," Again!? Just how important is Bright Eyes to have these Old Bloods looking like they're two seconds away from throwing a party just because they made a friend!? "My name is William Solaire. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"H-hey." Tony squeaks. What is he supposed to do? Does he need to bow? Would it be rude not to look him in the eyes? Thankfully, he doesn't need to think too hard about etiquette.

The King doesn't seem to mind his stuttering. In fact, why does his entire demeanour remind Tony of how his Mum would fondly flip through their family album? "Please forgive my presumption, as it is my hope that you will take up Bright's offer. Making friends is always a joyous occasion and I would like to foster that for our littlest member of the Clan."

"Oi! I don't need a playdate!"

Instead of getting angry at Bright's attitude, the King is as confused as Tony when he stares at them. "Weren't you talking about wanting to eat everything from the McDonald's menu earlier? A... mukbang, I believe?"

"...Yes."

"How wonderful! I have Alpha Shaw and Beta Talbot's phone numbers here. If it makes you feel better, Mr. Santoro, you can inform them of where you'll be at all times."

You know what? At this point, Tony might as well roll with it instead of trying to make sense of what's happening. Besides, any form of suspicion and anxiety evaporates when Bright Eyes jog back with every pocket on their person stuffed to the brim with that maniacal grin.

"You're hanging out with us? Lit. Quick question: how loud can you scream?"

"Can I call my Beta first? Maybe a lawyer too."

Noah's blood runs ice cold when he hears Jason's piercing scream.

That's the third scream now. The first was Tony's. No one expected it, really - you either made a successful lap around WonderWorld or got chased out by Vampires. That's it! There was never an instance where anyone needed to scream in terror!

"The runt probably got scared and pissed his pants." Noah rationalises to the group despite the waver in his voice.

"Fuck you, Noah." Rachel spits at him and runs into WonderWorld without even looking back before the older teenagers can even do anything. Her sudden reaction frightens the other Cubs. They fidget, they mutter in broken pleas to go home; how quickly the mood becomes miserable.

"What do we do?" Noah has always played the role of the leader - the unofficially 'Alpha' of their year group - so it makes sense that one of his buddies would turn to him.

"Everything's fine," Noah insisted, trying his best to calm his racing heart. "Seriously! Why are you all freaking out about it? No one from the Solaire Clan would be stupid enough to hurt us - "

Rachel's scream was as loud as Tony's. Just as terrified.

Everything goes downhill from there. His friends scrambled into the car and tears down the road, leaving Noah, his own car and the remaining group scared shitlessly. He never thought he would be abandoned just like that!

"C-Can we leave now? Please!" One of the kids sobs.

"What about Tony? Rachel? They're still in there!"

"Do you think someone k-killed them!?"

"They're not dead!" Noah snaps, startling the poor pre-teens. He grits his teeth; focusing on the anger is better than being frozen in fear. "They probably got trapped somewhere or-or found a dead raccoon. Look, I'm gonna grab them and then we'll leave. Fucking brats, can't even do anything right..."

"You're just gonna leave us here!?"

Noah can't believe this is happening to him, betrayed and now bickering with a bunch of baby Wolves that are seconds away from wetting their pants. Great. In the end, though, they all went in together. It was difficult walking in the dark when everyone huddled so closely but Noah kept his cursing to the minimum. The sooner they find Rachel and Tony, the sooner he can call his 'friends' out on Tiktok.

The light slowly fades behind them as they head deeper and deeper into WonderWorld. The brats held each other hands so as not to get lost, and Noah smacked the one nearest to him when he tried to grab his hand.

"Tony! Rachel! Where the fuck are you!?" Noah's shout echo through the park. One of the pre-teens whimpers in protest at the sudden loud noise.

No reply. Dread creeps into his mind and heart no matter how hard Noah tries to deny it. He grits his teeth and wonders if he would need to comb through the entire park for the missing kids. And where are the Vampires that were supposed to be on patrol anyway? There's no way -

The hair on the back of Noah's neck stood up. Someone is watching him.

He immediately whirls around, only for his heart to seize in his throat - he's completely alone.

"W-When did they - " Noah's eyes widen in disbelief and horror. Every last one of the kids is now missing. They were just behind him! He couldn't hear any footsteps. It happened so suddenly. As if they were snatched -

"Yo!"

Noah didn't realise that he had been spinning around in his panic state, eyes searching out for unseen threats. Only for it to pop up behind him as suddenly and silently capably by a Vampire.

He sees the fangs first. Then the crazed smile. The inhumane eyes.

"Alright, buddy, I'm going to shit yourself."

Finally, and hilariously too late, Noah catches a glimpse of a rock in the Vampire's raised fist before he's knocked out.

Dahlia's Daily Dirt | OCTOBER 17, 2023

Is William Solaire stepping up as a stepfather?

Written by Madelyn Talbot, a Buzzfeed journalist who covers film, TV, music, and celebrities.

Ladies and gentlemen, hold on to your burgers and chicken nuggets because the most desirable billionaire in Dahlia is making headlines again. This time though? As a potential stepfather! Yes, folks, this writer couldn't believe her eyes when she spotted William Solaire at McDonald's last night. Spoiler alert: he wasn't alone!

The real-estate mogul, or the man who is known to ignite countless hearts with his sultry smile and gentlemanly charm, was recently seen within the Golden Arches with not one but two stunning ladies in tow. And that's not all; they weren't there for a romantic rendezvous. Oh no! The trio was accompanied by a lively group of pre-teens, sparking rumours that our leading man may be stepping up to the plate as a potential stepfather for this beautiful couple.

Eyewitnesses inside the fast-food haven couldn't believe their luck as they watched an intriguing scene unfold. Our local Romeo was all smiles in his 3-piece Armani suit as he held up a phone, very kindly helping the kids to video record their mukbang. Could it be that this heartthrob is trading in red carpets for carpool lanes in his limousine?

The two glamorous ladies by his side seemed perfectly at ease with the situation. They laughed and chatted, clearly embracing the mayhem that comes with corralling a group of excitable pre-teens. We couldn't help but wonder, are they the lucky ladies who have captured the heart of Dahlia's most sought-after bachelor? And the question that I'm sure you all are wondering: 7 children? Really?

While the ladies fed each other fries dipped with ice-cream, our man of the hour was ever attentive in attending to the kids with stories of the latest Met Gala, and from the looks on their faces, it seemed he had a knack for entertaining even the toughest critics - kids with discerning taste buds!

Now, we're not jumping to conclusions, but could this rendezvous be the start of a heartwarming love story? Or perhaps, it's just a glimpse into the philanthropic side of our favourite celebrity, treating some lucky children to a night out. Either way, it's safe to say that this impromptu McDonald's adventure has left us craving answers almost as much as the juicy McRibs.

So, will our media-acclaimed most desirable man be adding 'stepfather' to his list of impressive titles? Only time will tell, but one thing's for sure: Dahlia's hottest heartthrob is stepping up, and we're loving every moment of it. Whether it's rocking Wall Street or at the golden arches, William never fails to surprise and delight us. Keep your eyes peeled, folks - this Modern Family saga: Stepfather edition is just getting started!

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TAGS: Dahlia's Daily Dirt | News | Celebrity | William Solaire | More

[SHOW 1K+ COMMENTS]

#monotony's rambling #redacted asmr #redacted audio #fanfic #redacted william solaire #Moroz Kalina (oc)#Nik Farah of Perak (oc)#redacted bright eyes #ps: some of bright's insane dialogue is from max0r so credit goes to him #life is hard for a pre-teen and a young vampire #william sympathises with you

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