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venussaidso · 2 months

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𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧-𝐑𝐚𝐡𝐮-𝐊𝐞𝐭𝐮: 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

the prominent themes of vampirism such as desire, hunger, mystery and illusions tie so perfectly with the moon and its nodes. it wasn't surprising to find the nodes dominating this genre the most, along with the luminaries (moon & sun nakshatras, but more fittingly the moon). i will not be touching on the few sun nakshatras playing vampires, as the moon makes far more sense symbolizing true vampiric nature.

So many vampire movie posters have this luminous glow to them, likely done consciously because of these creatures' affinity for nighttime, and generally being nocturnal as they're extremely sensitive to any type of sunlight.

I've once briefly mentioned, in my "Moon Dominant Themes" post, that lunar natives can operate very secretly, such as 'working in the shadows'. And the whole lore of vampires always emphasizes their ability to hide themselves while still living among humans.

Vampires undergoing periods of dormancy and resurgence is interesting as that can also be linked back to the moon's cycles of waxing & maning. The influence that the moon has on vampires, in some legends, is during certain lunar phases in which they become more active. A full moon could literally mean that their strength has enhanced, whilst a moonless night could mean their desire for blood is heightened.

Rohini Sun Colin Farrell

Claire Nakti explored, in her "TOP 3 Most Magical & Mystical Astrology Signs | Cults, Divination, & Occultism | Part 2 (Nakshatras)" documentary, on the ability of Moon nakshatra natives to brainwash/mind control/hypnotize.

daniel kaluuya is a hasta moon, not rohini.

As these natives are often cult leaders, their ability to influence the mind goes back to their lunar-rulership. The Moon rules over the mind, emotions and subconscious. A vampire's ability to hypnotize humans and other lesser beings is in parallel to the Moon's influence over the psyche and subconscious.

This illusory nature found in vampires can be connected to the shadow planet, Rahu. As Rahu is illusions, desire, hunger. Rahu is very seductive and tempting; this could tie back to some legends in which vampires lure their prey giving them promises of pleasure.

Ardra Sun Tom Cruise.

In "Interview with the Vampire", Tom Cruise plays Lestat who is an overindulgent, greedy vampire. Rahu governs desires and the pursuit of worldly pleasures. It's related to insatiable cravings that lead to greed. The lustful nature of Rahu is seen in Lestat's intense bloodlust and the chaos it brings.

Rahu's associations with eclipses relates to their ability of being hidden in the shadows. Another hint is in Rahu being a Shadow planet itself, just like Ketu is which is also related to vampires.

The story about Rahu's head getting decapitated by Vishnu for trying to get a drink out of the nectar of immortality can be brilliantly paralleled with vampirism. Due to Rahu's consumption of the drop of the nectar, he became the infamous dismembered immortal. His dismemberment a symbol of the detachment from humanity to vampirism.

Rahu is considered an entity of darkness and malevolence, preying upon cosmic forces and defying the natural order of things (such as vampirism which does defy nature itself, ie. the dead becoming undead) in pursuit for immortality. Vampires are literal parasites, and Rahu is also parasitical. Vampires feed on humans without providing any benefit in the ecosystem in return, a one-sided relationship which resembles one between a parasite and its host. Rahu is depicted as insatiable and consuming, feeding and draining one's energy. It creates a cycle of thirsting for more without any fulfillment, a predicament vampires find themselves in.

Ashwini Sun Luke Evans

Rahu and Ketu represent the lunar nodes, respectively depicted as the head and tail of the celestial serpent. Their energetic interaction can be likened to the endless chase between a vampire and a vampire hunter, villain and hero, the friction between unlikely lovers. It's obvious in how Rahu embodies the insatiable hunger for experiences and the craving for fulfillment that it can be the vampiric force in such a dynamic. Like a vampire, Rahu relentlessly pursues its desires, often leading to greed and excess. And then you have Ketu, on the other hand, which embodies detachment, spirituality, and liberation from worldly attachments. It quite literally symbolizes the renunciation of desires and the quest for enlightenment, opposing Rahu's restlessness for more. Ketu is a cutting force, and like a determined vampire hunter, is skilled in tracking down illusions and breaking free from temptations.

Although it sounds like a more fitting interplay between Rahu as the evil force and Ketu as the hunter, it's actually more seen in the other way around.

It is more so that Rahuvians are the vampire hunters, which I found so intriguing; showcasing how Rahu is both the parasitical (illusory), and also the one to be rid of parasites (disillusionment). And I have explored this particular theme in my Rahu post -- how Rahu natives experience a lot of disillusionment from their reality, wanting to cast away the illusions that drain the life force.

The reversal of roles showcases the fluidity of the nodes; their roles almost always expected to reverse, illustrating just how Rahu and Ketu are deeply intertwined with the concept of karma, representing the push-&-pull between cosmic forces of destiny.

More nodal-vampire movies, and other examples in which Rahu & Ketu find themselves on opposite sides of the same spectrum in which they are both vampires, similar to the friction seen between Louis (Ketu) and Lestat (Rahu) in "Interview with the Vampire".

In the film "Fright Night", the one who has to kill the villainous vampire is an Ashwini native. It is also interesting how in "Queen of the Damned" (above, right), the villain is a Magha native who must be stopped by her Mula lover -- both being vampires.

As mentioned in the figure image about the film "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter", where a nodal-ruled native is paired up with someone who is lunar-ruled, this is a type of pairing seen a lot in these supernatural stories.

Similarly to "Twilight", as Edward was the one to turn Bella into a vampire, we see the planetary reversal of this in which the lunar-native is the one who turns the nodal-native.

Or the film "Vamps" in which Hasta Sun, Shatabhisha Moon native Alicia Silverstone turns Mula Sun, Magha Moon native Krysten Ritter into a vampire.

It isn't a surprise that the moon and its nodes are related to the extremities of the mind. These energies can cause isolation due to how polarizing they come off in regular society (furthermore validating its relation to vampirism), so they become attracted to one another -- especially the nodal natives to the moon natives, because of how much they feel magnetized by them, and vice versa.

The presence of some Sun nakshatras in vampire stories is present and that could tie to the Sun's influence over the Moon despite the fact that solar symbolisms regarding vampirism don't exist, and vampires are far too sensitive to the Sun so much so that they get sunburn during the full moon where the sun's light reflects (interesting to think about). The whole point of a vampire is to lurk in the shadows or during nighttime, so the strict avoidance of the Sun could make sense in there being solar-natives in vampiric roles. It makes for an interesting contradiction, certainly.

Ketu is the body of the severed demon Rahu following the consumption of the elixir. Much like Rahu, Ketu is also associated to darkness and illusions. But it symbolizes the darker, unseen aspects of reality -- all the hidden forces and energies as I've touched on in my Ketu exploration. Ketu and Rahu are two sides of the same coin, it isn't surprising to see them share many vampiric roles/stories.

Ketu is about spiritual liberation, detachment (in this context, becoming a vampire means a harsh detachment from normality/the old life), transcendence; these existential themes are found in vampirism.

The character Louis in "Interview with the Vampire" played by Mula Sun Brad Pitt describes his existential crisis as a vampire to a Magha Sun human who interviews him.

The enhanced strength, agility, speed, hearing and all these abilities are gained after the painful transformation process, going from human to vampire. This process is seen in the film "Interview with the Vampire", Mula Sun Brad Pitt's character going through excruciating pain when turning. My mind immediately takes me to Claire Nakti's first Mula nakshatra exploration, in which she touched on the interconnection of pain and evolution for access to more powers.

robert pattinson is an ardra moon, not sun. and i accidentally used jk rowling's face as l.j smith, ugh! 💔

Vampires are caught between worlds, trapped in a liminal space between life & death. Ketu can cause feelings of entrapment. The yearning for release from their eternal existence is a common theme, as Ketu wants to escape its body. Louis de Pointe du Lac is the best character as example of rejecting one's own nature and wanting to cease to exist.

Mula Sun Brad Pitt

nodals being so emo jfc

notes: colin farrell's birthtime accuracy is botched, he's definitely a mula ascendant. tom hiddleston stays a possible ashwini moon until he's not (until his birthtime is available and accurate).

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dsknsk · 21 days

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I love how PM keeps playing with tropes. We've seen the tropes that they deconstruct within Limbus (in fact, it is a theory of mine that each Sinner is based on a stereotypical character from gachas), the way that they pick up the cyberpunk trope and basically throw it across the room, but another huge one is...

Carmen.

Look. I think that Carmen was and is based on the traditional 'Mary Sue'. Because...well, some traits that are said to belong to the 'Mary Sue', are turned brilliantly on their head by PM. So, for typical 'Mary Sue' traits, there's:

Pretty in the traditional sense. 'Mary Sues' always look perfect, peerless and never have to work hard to maintain their image. While, as far as I know, there hasn't really been made an in-universe compliment on Carmen's physical appearance...you'd rather stop and listen to someone who at least looks like they can be trusted wouldn't you? She's likened to the sun, as Oswald called her that, and is inside the light. (Also, out-of-universe: she is certainly pretty in my eyes. She adheres to the modern beauty standards at the very least).

Related to the above: charming. The 'Mary Sue' often has an innate charm that attracts others to her. The way that Carmen has this is through her voice, which already was powerful enough to let her traverse the dangerous Backstreets unarmed, standing out from all those other Backstreets preachers somehow and draw in the most cynical noblemen, but is even more charming after death. She doesn't even need to give a breaking speech or anything, as we've seen, she just gives you questions and comments on things. Which falls in line with...

Powerful, yet without having to break a sweat. Even before dying, she was already drawing in people without having to get physical (at least, none we know of). The only time we fight her as of yet (Kether realisation), Angela needs to use an attack that depletes all her HP to win, after five phases have already passed.

The 'Mary Sue' is often a so-called spotlight stealer. She will have a major role in the story, inexplicably, at least one other character will fall in love with her and she will overall have a large presence. So far, Carmen is the only character who has appeared in all three of the games, and if you count the Distortion and the Library, she has influenced WonderLab, Leviathan and Distortion Detective as well. She was also relevantly connected to the main cast of LobCorp and has influenced most of them in some way (i.e Ayin, Angela, Giovanni, arguably Kali, etc.). She remains to be relevant to several major story turns and has left her mark in them, in some way.

Unusual eyes. It's a stereotype that 'Mary Sues' always have unusual eyes. A common type is heterochromia (which is why I often jokingly call Hong Lu a 'Mary Sue'), but other types exist like sparkly rainbow or them changing like a mood ring or something. Carmen has red eyes, which are a common side-effect of body enhancements (Vergilius had them and the R Corp pack leaders too)...except, as we said, for as far as we know, Carmen hasn't had any. They are also a trait of Bloodfiends, but she isn't (yet) confirmed to be one. Either way, red eyes are a sign of the not-weak in the City.

Oftentimes, 'Mary Sues' are referred to as divinity, as pure grace from an utmost high all-powerful deity. They may or may not even be that deity. With Carmen, she practically had a cult of personality around her when she was alive...and she also had an analogue in another pale-skinned, red-eyed being that is also treated like this. She was described as this paeon of altruism and someone who genuinely wants the best for humanity.

Meaningful name. While not so immediately on-the-nose like 'Flowersparkle', Carmen's name can be seen as a reference to the infamous prototype of the femme fatale, once again hinting at that charming quality of hers.

Perfect. A 'Mary Sue' never fails at what she does...and that's where PM shows through that...

...Carmen is a parody on the 'Mary Sue'. A so-called 'Parody Sue'...but not played for laughs. The thing is that she is described as being all this...by those she already has enthralled. Those that aren't really involved with her - Hokma (was more loyal to Ayin), Binah (who wasn't in the picture during Carmen's life), and Roland (a stranger to LobCorp to begin with) have their say during Ruina and offer us another view at Carmen, our first, and one thing becomes clear:

A real 'Mary Sue' would be weird as fuck.

Carmen shows us how weird a 'Mary Sue' would actually be in a world that isn't sunshine and rainbows - an extremely uncanny, severely misguided being who nonetheless draws people to herself, who show a creepy amount of belief and devotion to her. Carmen thinks that the 'be yourself' message - so omnipresent in media - should prevail...in a world where the majority of people are either pieces of shit or are living such a dreary, miserable life that they just give up all hope.

But all of this is only revealed in the second game and pulls the player out of the dream. And so, Carmen does end up failing to convince some people like Dongbaek and Dongrang who manage to develop E.G.O instead.

Because despite what she was painted as in the past, in reality, Carmen is not a 'Mary Sue'. And she is not perfect.

That's why she's such a great PM character.

#limbus company #library of ruina #lobotomy corporation

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nenestansunsthings · 1 year

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"Hey. You're Joe Hills, right?"

The man who turns to him to looks far too normal, a casual guy with long hair and green glasses and gloves. Quackity can't imagine why they beat Wilbur. Why her people campaigned so hard for him, why they had hundreds in the lead for hours upon hours until the polls closed and Wilbur lost to her. When the guy smiles cheerfully towards him, the question only becomes more poignant.

"Yup! That's me! Joe Hills, from Nashville, Tennessee." He offers their hand to shake, and in a flash Quackity takes it. Her grip isn't strong, and he blinks in surprise when Quackity's own is firm. "And you're Quackity, right? Good job with your poll!! That was a real close win, but your people pulled through right where it mattered!"

Quackity waves it off. "I never had a doubt. Of course my fans wouldn't let me lose! I'm the sexiest red bird around here, after all!" Unbidden, his wings flutter. "But heyyy, that's not what I came here for. I came here for you! We had an alliance, didn't we? Come on, hi-five, amigo, we did well today!"

Joe blinks. "We had an alliance?"

"Uh, yeah? What, don't tell me you didn't know." He scoffs. "Your fans didn't tell you? I heard you were out there campaigning yourself. Posting shirtless videos and everything! Just my kinda guy." Cheerfully, he slings an arm around Joe, pleasantly surprised when the guy doesn't even flinch. "I thought you agreed to the alliance yourself!"

"... Oh, that alliance!" Their eyes light up in recognition. "Yeah, I saw a few people talking about that. People get really excited in my chat, y'know? Though they were pretty torn." He shrugs. "I mean, Grian's a friend of mine, even if I have no clue how he thinks. But yeah, that was all them!"

Quackity can't help but stare. "You didn't know they were allying against a friend of yours?!"

"Nope! They just kinda do what they want." Joe laughs, the sound tinged with fondness. Something in that makes Quackity's gut churn uncomfortably. They just… do that? Ally against friends? Work with people who they think will stab them in the back later? And all in the name of someone who doesn't even know what they're planning? "I think it's great that they all got together to support you! But hey, there's only one person I'm hoping will win, and you know who it is! I wouldn't be campaigning for myself if I didn't want that win."

"Ha! Yeah, I know how it is." He grins back, golden tooth gleaming brilliantly. "Don't feel too down when I thrash you, alright?"

"We'll see about that!" Normally, Quackity would be on edge from that kind of declaration, but there isn't a shred of hostility in her vice. There's only delight, friendly competition. "I have faith that my viewers will pull ahead, and that I can campaign hard enough to convince people! I've been working really hard, after all. Even bought some new rainbow eyes, just for the occasion!"

"Wait, what."

Joe blinks, and when their eyes open again they are joined by a hundred others, flickering with a thousand colours and all seeing- staring- beholding. Just before he can think the word watching, they flutter shut.

"That's not the right word for me, just to be clear," Joe chastises him. "Watching. I'm not a part of that group."

Quackity has no goddamn idea what she means. So after a moment of stunned silence, he continues.

"... Do your fans think the eyes are hot?"

"I think they're sexyman enough to win the contest," he says, which clears up nothing. "But, most importantly, I think they'd vote for me anyway! Even without my beautiful, glowing, rainbow-checked eyes. Which are, by the way, divinely beautiful, and should be appreciated."

"Hey, man, if you're the kind of guy to buy new eyes for a competition, they'd better vote for you." Quackity shakes his head. "What, did they bribe you for it? Say they'd vote for you if you blinked in rainbows? That's not a healthy relationship, man, you gotta get out of there."

Joe snorts. "No, this is all for me. But thanks for worrying! If my people ever start demanding I grow new eyes before they tip me, I'll just find new people." He waves a hand nonchalantly. "I don't think my viewers would do that, anyway."

"... Hm." Quackity hesitates, settling a few feet away from Joe. "... I dunno, man. I mean, they made that alliance without you, didn't they? Hard to think you could trust 'em after something like that. Not a lot of unity in that kind of campaign, especially if there was some kind of in-fighting about voting me over your friend."

Some tiny, tiny part of him feels a little sick at the thought. But it dies down quickly enough. This isn't the first time he's brought people to blows over loyalty, after all.

But Joe looks unbothered. "They're good people. They'll figure it out for themselves. And they understand why people would vote you over Grian, or why their friends would support you."

"Oh?" Quackity raises an eyebrow. "You talk like you've seen it yourself. Did they shake hands and make up and write songs about their reconciliation? I'd love to see that- you encourage their poetry, it looks like. They've gotta have some skills."

"Nah, nothing like that. You're thinking too big, Quackity HQ." Their sunny smile shifts, softening at the edges. "They're just friends. They don't hate each other for wanting a different person to win. If this was something important like politics- which is very important, remember to vote on both a local and national level to support what's best for your community!- then it might be different. But this is fine."

He scoffs. "Please. I've seen the posts. Some of those guys came out swinging against me."

"And they know it's an exaggeration!" she assures him. "Just look around. All across this great land of Tumblr, there are people reminding each other to be kind. To be civil. To watch whether their feelings are turning into hate, and to take a step back and breathe if things go too far. Sure, things have gone too far. But that happens in all kinds of events, not just this one. And mostly, our viewers want to be kind."

"Man. You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you." Quackity looks away. "But that's not really what I mean. It's more…"

He's not sure the words are right on his tongue. He says them anyway.

"They're supposed to be united," he tries. "I know you all wanted a Hermitsweep. Your people rule the polls. Doesn't it scare you, that they can split so much behind your back? Isn't it weird, to trust them with this?"

For a second, Joe is silent. Quackity grits his teeth, turns- but the faint green glow of his checkmarks is dim, and there's a twinge of honest fear in his eyes.

"... To be honest, it feels weird." He rests his head on their knees, fingers wrapped tight around her arms. "Just a little bit. I didn't expect this much. And the competition last round was a lot, let me tell you."

Quackity snorts. "I was there, man. No need to tell me. So much voter fraud…"

"And bribery! Don't forget bribery." Joe laughs. "But I do trust them. Whatever they do. I'll be disappointed if I lose, obviously, but it happens. It's hard to really be angry when you think about the core of all this."

"Popularity?" he jokes.

"Well, a little. I've been told Scar is not a sexyman, just a sexy man. Still not sure what criteria people are voting by. But mostly, I think it's love."

"Love?" Quackity raises an eyebrow. "What made you think that?"

Joe sighs. "I dunno. It's just… it's the only thing that it could be, really. This contest doesn't mean anything. There's no prize. All it is is just people wanting the entertainers they love most to win. And look at everything they've created for that goal."

Quackity knows. He's seen the swathes of art, the stories, the people getting out drawing tablets or phones or paper and camera to thank people who voted in their favour. He's seen old artworks shared years after their making. He's seen silly powerpoints, walls of text, analysis and promotions of videos from the starts of careers. It's a little terrifying, really, in the same way angels are.

He's pretty sure Joe would know, too.

"Yeah, not every one of my viewers joined your alliance. Even with my personal campaigning, none of them brought it up to me. But whoever they voted, whether it was Grian because he's someone they fought to see this high up or you because they wanted to share the support your people offered me, they voted out of love. Because they love me, or they love you, or they love whoever else they wanted to win."

"... They love you, huh?"

It's an odd thought. Quackity's well used to heartbreak, to abandonment. To people only staying because he had something to offer. But in this silly contest, with tens of thousands of people cheering for him…

"They love you too," Joe says with a smile. "So I'm happy you won. I'd say you're a pretty worthy opponent."

Quackity barks out a laugh, turning to Joe with fire in his eye. "A worthy opponent? You'll be taking those words back when I win. My people love me, don't they? So I'm sure as hell they'll put their money where their mouth is."

"Oh, we'll see." A thousand eyes open, turning a rainbow gaze upon him. He meets their stare head-on. "After all," Joe Hills says, "You were right about one thing. We want a Hermitsweep."

#quackity #quackityhq #joe hills #joehillstsd #quackity fanfic #joe hills fanfiction #mcyt sexyman propaganda #mcytblr sexymen poll #sun art #hi guys. guess who is SO normal about the quackity joe poll #i have. emotions #also im so sorry if theyre not written right i did my best

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sfehvn · 6 months

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new religion part 5

A/N: Some more fluffy smut in this chapter. Enjoy! xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,081 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x au!Tav

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You had always admired how warm sun rays kissed your lover’s flesh, never to be marred by the harsh light. You had never given it a second thought before Astarion’s admission; now you often found yourself questioning if some ounce of you had known something was off about him. If you had simply repressed any thoughts that didn’t align with your ideation of him. It was always short-lived once his hand intertwined with your own, grounding you like a tether to the planet’s surface. “Made just for me. Every bit of you fits exquisitely. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?” Astarion would often tease just to see the red hugh that would grace your cheeks. Although he liked to see how nervous he made you, it was never contrary to the truth. How natural such things he would previously sneer in distaste for felt with you. It would seldom cease to blow his mind; the piece of divinity a heinous creature like himself had managed to secure. The gods must have had a hand at play the day his eyes fell upon you. Why? He wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

Bloomridge Park was green as ever and you watched the inhabitants with a careful eye, resting against a pillow Astarion had been sure to pack for your first excursion out since you’d stumbled up to his front door after the passing of your father. Young couples chattered to themselves as they walked by, the occasional flaming fist clad in full armor, a mother and two young children following like ducklings. You hum absently, running your hand over the soft material of the blanket beneath you two. It was the first time you’d been able to think about anything other than your father’s passing in nearly a month.

“Isn’t it odd?” Your eyes fluttered shut as you mused.

“Hm? What’s that, dear?” Astarion looks up from the book he had been engrossed in.

“All of these people. We don’t know the first thing about them. Yet, all of them live their own lives with struggles we’ll never know.” You open your eyes to look at him, taking note of the confusion on his face so you elaborate further. “I just mean it’s easy to see strangers in the street and take them for face value, I suppose. Do you ever think about that?”

“No.” His brow creases, glancing over at the most recent passerby.

“Never?”

He marks where he left off in his novel and sets it down beside him before he moves closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist and urging your head to rest on his chest instead of the pillow. “Not particularly. Where is this coming from?”

“I was just curious, I guess. I think about it a lot. I wonder if people look at us and have the same perception.” As you speak, his fingers run through the silky strands of your hair, attentive to the way it shimmers at the prying light through the forested leaves of the tree above.

“What matter would it serve if they did? If anything they see an extraordinarily gorgeous couple brilliantly in love. If they have any sense, at least.” His words prompt you to swat his chest disapprovingly; playfully.

“You are missing my point.” You giggle and Astarion’s chest fills with an intense feeling of happiness. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound of your laugh through the troubles of the past month. “Did you ever look at me and see the sadness my heart holds? Do you think anyone else does?”

Astarion’s free hand comes up to cup your chin, his thumb stroking gentle circles against your jaw. “You are a light to all who are blessed enough to lay eyes upon you.” He asserts. You smile solemnly, hand coming to rest on his elbow. Welcoming lips meet his, a sweet kiss ghosted in their absence.

You came to rest on a velvet chaise in the front room, holding an envelope between your fingertips. Your name was scrawled across the front in the familiar chicken scratch of your older brother’s handwriting. You swiftly opened it and were greeted with two pages of writing. Your younger sisters had been settling into their new home comfortably, much to your relief. You had felt a great sense of guilt lately for being so willing to hand them over to Alan upon his request. Your brother knew you better than anyone else and when you had fell apart after losing your father, it was unspoken that you were not ready to take on the role of mother to five young girls. Alan, however, had quite a few years on you and his wife was just as eager to take them on. Seeing the letter reassured that you had indeed made the right choice. They deserved more structure than you were able to provide, and according to Alan they were flourishing under their care. The knowledge felt like a weight off of your shoulders.

“Your brother, dear?” Astarion asks as he enters the room, toweling droplets of water from his hair. You nod, as does he in response. “The girls are faring well, I presume?”

“Very well it seems.” You hum, setting the letter aside so you can put your sole attention on the nude body of your lover before you. You reach out, beckoning him to take your hands. He places them into yours, pulling you up from the chaise. His head dips down until his lips find your neck, suckling gently at the sensitive skin. His hands move to the front of the silk robe that adorned your body, slowly working it down your arms until it fell from you in a graceful pile at your feet. You move your neck to the side to allow him more access, draping your arms around his neck. Convinced you would never tire of feeling Astarion’s body against your own, you let out a contented sigh followed shortly by a moan as you felt his fangs teasingly dance over your flesh.

His hands move to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you. He places you graciously on the nearby desk, as if you were more fragile than you actually were. You immediately feel hands trailing up the insides of your legs, spreading his fingers wide as he silently aided you in opening them for him. A faint whine leaves your throat once his digits are buried deep inside of you, his thumb stroking your clit softly but with purpose. Your head tilts in ecstasy and it urges him to your throat once more. How badly he wanted to taste your sweet lifeforce on his tongue, it was as if every part of your body sung for him. Self control he had no use for before you always took him by surprise. No matter how badly he craved to indulge in everything your body offered to him, he wouldn’t dare sink a fang into you without you urging him to.

“I wanna know what it feels like.” You murmured. Astarion’s hand stills but remains in place between your thighs, lifting his head from his position in the crook of your neck. You look up at him from euphoric hooded eyes, a slight smile upturning the corner of your lips. “I mean if you want to. I-I just know you said that alone wouldn’t turn me.” You stuttered, a soft flush decorated your cheeks. “And I trust you.” You added sheepishly.

He looks down at you curiously, an amused smile playing on his face at how nervous you came across in your revelation. “It wouldn’t.” His words were poised, yet he was nearly unable to quell the excitement buzzing within himself. He pondered whether he’d be able to show the same restraint in the moment. A little taste couldn’t hurt and he was well fed; now had to be as good a time as any. One of his hands come up to cradle the back of your head and his other arm braces your waist against him. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead before his mouth is resting over your jugular. Your heart flutters from the thrill, the anticipation. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

That was the only confirmation Astarion needed. He plants one final kiss to your neck before his fangs sink into your delicate flesh, the sweetness of your metallic blood pools in his mouth and he sucks eagerly, somehow managing to remember to treat you delicately through the rush of it all. It’s the sweetest thing he’s had the pleasure of tasting, even sweeter to feel your body relax against his own rather than fighting against him. He shifts his hand from your waist to guide his hard cock to your drenched mound, pressing into you slowly.

The feeling is the closest he believes he’d ever get to religion, your body reacting ferverently to his every touch. He pumps in and out of your center, his mouth lapping up every ounce of blood that flows from your wound in tandem. Your pleasurable moans urge him on and he quickens his pace as your body goes limp from the bloodloss. Your hands lazily grasping his shoulders let him know you were still conscious and he removes himself from your neck before he’s beyond the point of no return. His hand reaches to apply pressure to the wound in an attempt to stop your blood from leaking any further. It coats his palm at the contact and he hungrily plants his lips to yours once again.

The metallic taste of his tongue is off-putting for a moment, but quickly your mind is overtaken by the sensation of him filling you to the brim over and over again with deliberate thrusts. You feel reality drift away as your body shakes in euphoria, walls tightening around the length of his cock. You weren’t dying, but if you were, this would be the way you’d like to go. A celestial feeling of toeing the line between life and death, while the man you love fucks you to your heart’s content. The thought pushes you over the edge, his name leaving your lips in invocation. He follows suit. His seed drips as he pulls out of you, soon to be dripping down those thighs he loved so much. “I think I need to lie down.” You say weakly, your surroundings grow increasingly blurry as you look around the room.

“Soon, my treasure.” He assures, calling for the maid that stood outside of the room. She entered and remained unfazed by the sight before her, instead waiting for instruction from her master. “Tend to Tav’s wound and help her into a fresh pair of night clothes.”

“Yes, master.” The thrall responds, urgently rushing to your side and making quick work of bandaging your punctured neck.

You lay silently at Astarion’s side feeling much more balanced. The nightgown that hugged your body was no use in hiding the stickiness between your thighs, a welcome reminder of the passionate encounter you two had shared earlier in the evening. His fingertips massage your head, laced in your hair as your head rested on his shoulder. “I could stay like this forever.” You whisper for fear of breaking the comfortable moment. He smiles, turning his head to bury his nose into your hair.

A fiery-haired woman watches on in admiration, her fingers twinging slightly to will away the viewing port that had been conjured before her. “Don’t you just love love?” She muses to the other two women at her side. Her face of unparalleled beauty, she grins widely.

“It seems your plan is going accordingly, Sune. Although, do you truly believe them able to fulfill such a prophecy?” A darker haired woman asks.

“Oh, Mystra.” Sune giggles. “Your doubt aside, I do. I’ve hardly had to meddle at all. All it took was for the vampire to get one good look at her. The rest is their doing.”

“We are running out of time. I didn’t imagine it would be such a lengthy process. If we succeed, there will be no feat this archdevil can overcome.” A silver-haired woman addresses, eyeing the red-haired goddess carefully.

“Love is a sacred state of being, Selûne. It will always take time. To my own surprise, these two were awfully susceptible to one another. We may even be ahead of schedule. Patience, ladies.” Sune hums and the other two have no choice but to oblige.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion x reader #reader #tav #ascended!astarion x tav

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galamalion · 6 months

Text

୨୧. 𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍'

summary. you and sanji go on a date to pick out some perfect pumpkins for the season.

⤷ contents. vinsmoke sanji x gn!reader, fluff + romance, sanji being a sweetheart

⤷ notes. hello! i'm going to try and write a lot until the end of october in order to get out all my halloween ideas, so this'll be the first! enjoy this little pumpkin date <3

autumn was your favorite season for a very long list of reasons.

first of all, its beauty had no comparison. watching the leaves change colors from emerald to cherry red all over the course of a couple weeks was a sight you could never tire of, in awe of nature’s power over its creations.

secondly, the anticipation for halloween was impossible to ignore, and you already had both your costume picked out and a list of activities to take part in the moment the calendar turned october first.

and lastly, the flavors that arose during the chilly season were absolutely exquisite. a hot apple cider for those cold afternoons, or a slice of pumpkin pie made by your one and only personal chef.

“ah, mon chou~! how about this one?” he called out, holding a pumpkin high above his head for you to see.

sanji really was a dream come true, acting as your prince during your weekly fall outings, participating alongside your autumnal activities. he would find you the most brilliantly red leaf among a raked up pile, helped to sew your matching costumes, and he would make your favorite fall treats for you! he was attentive, elegant, and the greatest boyfriend you would ever get.

“a little bigger, sweetie! i wanna do some pumpkin carving with it!” you shouted back, scouring the field for your dream pumpkin,

“oui!” he exclaimed, gently setting the pumpkin back onto the ground.

you grabbed a nearby small pumpkin, “how about this one, sanji?” you asked, spinning it around for him to see.

“less blemishes, sweetheart! i’m looking for firm and plump!” you didn’t miss the way he wiggled his eyebrows at you, drawing an eye roll from you in response.

an hour of pumpkin judging passed between you two, and a few contenders had risen to your high standards. you carried around five tiny pumpkins in your tote bag, though sanji was aiming for ten due to luffy’s voracious appetite. sanji was hauling two perfectly symmetrical pumpkins, one for each of you to use.

the sun hadn’t quite set yet, a glow still rested on the field for you and sanji to continue picking, but the sky was slowly beginning to fill with oranges and pinks which cast a pastel shimmer of color across your face. sanji stared at your appearance from across the field, taking in the way the soft light struck your visage and framed you beautifully, like a divinity choosing to grace him with your presence.

“you think ten will really be enough for luffy?” you shouted, picking up a pumpkin to examine it.

sanji snapped back to attention, blinking rapidly as he formulated his thoughts, “i- well i suppose no, when taking his prior portion sizes into account…and if we invite sabo and ace there as well…”

“at least sabo has manners!” you yelled, chucking any spoiled pumpkins over your shoulder. “i once saw ace use someone else’s pants as a napkin! not even his own! can you believe that, sanji?”

sanji’s focus once again faltered, watching as your lips moved wildly in your frustrated-amused rant. god, how he wanted to kiss you right now. i mean, you both deserve a break right now, right? you’ve been working so hard these past few hours…a little break never hurt anybody, right?

you continued raving and skipped across the fields, unaware of sanji’s devious musings, searching for some more perfect pumpkins for your perfect boyfriend. your deep and intense focus on your little pumpkin hunt led to you missing your perfect boyfriend disappearing from his row of pumpkins, silently creeping up behind you.

“oh mon ange,” he whistled, “i believe just found the prettiest pumpkin in the pumpkin patch!” his slender, long fingers wrapped around your waist, lifting you high above and eliciting a shriek.

“put me down, you sneak!” you teased, jokingly kicking your legs in an attempt to get loose of his hold.

“but then my pumpkin might run away!” he lamented, twirling you around in circles, sidestepping any precarious pumpkins in the way of his feet.

“as if i’d run away from you,” you replied, trying to ruffle his blonde locks up in the air.

sanji contemplated your words, throwing you down into a bridal carry while he pondered your response. after a minute of totally-real reflection, he flashed you a big ol’ pout.

“you pinky promise?” he whined, kneeling to the ground with you still in his arms, slipping his arm out from under your knees to offer a pinky.

“i pinky promise, my love.” you kissed him on the forehead, causing a heavy flush to don his cheeks and he rolled around the dirt-covered fields in bliss.

you approached his squirming body and gently touched him with the tip of your foot. “get up, mr. prince, i still need someone to carry our pumpkins!” you sung, slinging your bag across your shoulders and attempting to heave sanji to his feet, “unless you’d like me to leave you here…”

immediately sanji arose in dramatic fashion, sprinting back to grab the pumpkins he had abandoned. with ease he lifted them, returning back to your side as if he wasn't carrying two extremely heavy gourds.

“your prince is here! now what are your next commands, my liege?” he announced, dropping to one knee and kissing your hand.

“hmmm…” you brought your hand to your chin, tapping it in 'deep' thought, “you have to help me find more of your pie-pumpkins, and then we can go home and make cider!” you cheered, grasping his hand and running towards the baby pumpkins.

“anything for you, mon amour,” he swooned, watching the sun cast a luminous amber glow across your skin, “anything for you.”

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the-art-of-ancunin · 2 months

Text

Sweetest Sin [Part Two]

Pairing: Priest!Astarion x Female!Reader

Content Warning(s): SMUT, P-in-V, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Slight Corruption/Religion Kink, Slight Angst, Oral Sex (Both Female and Male Receiving), Blood drinking

Word Count: 8.1K

I did not proofread this, so hopefully it's not absolute trash. An effort was made - I hope you like it!

The forest hummed with the nocturnal symphony of crickets, owls, and other far-off, nameless creatures of the night, the gentle flow of a nearby stream blending seamlessly into the serene melody of twilight. It would not be long before those last, lingering flecks of sunlight would fade away, disappearing beyond the horizon until a new day was to be born. What light remained barely managed to pierce through the thick canopy of the trees, casting scant, dappled shadows against the forest floor where Astarion was doing his best to tread softly. After a rather long and unforgiving dry spell, the Almighty had at last seen it fit to bless these lands with much needed rains, though the precipitation and the violent winds that accompanied it had made a bit of a mess of his hunting grounds. The pale elf’s garnet eyes practically glowed in the darkness, though not quite as brilliantly as usual. He inhaled deeply as he moved carefully through the dampened terrain, mindful of the numerous twigs and branches that had been displaced during the storm. The cool air carried the pleasant, earthy scent of petrichor to the man’s attention and for a moment he felt a sense of guilt for not feeling quite as grateful as he should for this glorious blessing - he should be praising the Lord for answering the prayers of his congregation, for granting them this gift. He should have felt certain that this was some kind of divine providence and yet, standing there amidst the chorus of the night, Astarion felt only the discord within.

“Should it not be simple?” He murmured into the dark, his voice barely rising above the rustling leaves. “To rejoice with the others and praise the Lord for the mercy he’s bestowed upon us?”

But no answer came from the heavens - only the indifferent chirping of insects and the steady trickling of water. Still, he pressed onward, eyes searching while he desperately tried to ignore the incredible weight of the hot sin that had been bearing down on him for the past few nights. The knowledge that the sanctity of his vows had been so quickly torn asunder by a moment of carnal weakness had him reeling even now. After everything that he had been through, after all of the horrific things that Astarion had done, he hadn’t truly known peace until he had found his faith. He had never thought himself deserving of it, to be honest, but he had found acceptance among the faithful and after a while, he felt that the church had given him a much needed sense of purpose. He hadn’t thought twice about taking his vows at the time - hells, he welcomed the idea of having the perfect “out” should anyone try to coax him into their bed. It had taken centuries for him to work through what had been done to him, to feel comfortable in his own body once more…to believe that his body was HIS, even, and not just something for others to use as they please. But then, he had been called upon to shepherd the fine, faithful citizens of Emberwood…where he had met you. You, who were so unapologetically yourself. You, who were so unbelievably gorgeous that Astarion couldn’t decide whether you were sculpted by the hand of the Creator himself or if the Hells had sent you to test him. You lit up every room you entered, your smile and laughter were infectious. You were a bit…unpolished, certainly, and you had no qualms with voicing your skepticism when it came to matters of the divine and “other such nonsense”, as you had so delicately put it on more than one occasion…but oddly enough, both the former rogue and the priest within seemed to enjoy this about you in equal measure. His attraction to you had been immediate - the moment he had put eyes on you, he had felt it like a bolt of electricity weaving through his chest and spreading across every inch of his body. As time had gone on and you’d become familiar with one another, he had irritatingly found that your intelligence and personality had done nothing to defuse that initial spark. You had unknowingly become an almost immediate source of distress to the outwardly well-poised and soft spoken clergyman.

“Not even these beasts live in such torment,” He muttered to himself, his gaze piercing through the tall grass and thick trees, peering into the depths of the forest in search of prey.

Astarion continued onward, his movements graceful and silent as though he were but a phantom weaving its way through the darkness. How he was managing to carry himself with such finesse in his current state was honestly a mystery to him, but he was thankful for it all the same. He could certainly feel the toll that his fasting had taken on his body; his once vibrant appearance had begun to wane, leaving him a mere shadow of the dignified and well-composed preacher that he presented to the world. Three days had come and gone since that night, and he had remained locked away in the depths of his cathedral, deep in prayer and seeking forgiveness and guidance from the Almighty during that time. He had not risen from his knees until this night, the eve of the Lord’s day of rest. He would have to face his flock in the morning and he could not do so without sustenance - his eyes had noticeably dulled, the pallor of his skin had become so great that he looked every bit the walking corpse that, technically, he was…but they needn’t see him that way. They couldn’t…he simply would not allow it.

“Where are you?” He growled softly, eyes darting to examine every rustle, every slight shift within the underbrush. “Come on, show yourself…”

Tonight the pale elf was but a hunter - his status within the community temporarily set aside as he tended to his own needs, but even as he slinked through the night, every bit the predator stalking its prey, he found that no matter how he tried, you were never far from his mind. Images of you flashed behind his eyes - the way your soft, almost angelic face had gazed upon him pleadingly, your perfect breasts rising and falling with each labored breath as he claimed your body, robbing you of your virtue. He’d told himself countless times that he hadn’t known that you were still pure - and this was true, of course. It wasn’t as though it had ever come up in conversation, and from the confident way in which you held yourself, the comfortability that you seemed to possess in your own skin, it was easy to make the assumption that you had likely known the touch of another once or twice. Still, the act alone was damning in and of itself, but the added layer of knowing that he had taken your maidenhood added substantially more weight to his misdeed.

Astarion’s senses sharpened as a gentle rustling whispered through the tall grass, his pointed ears twitching softly as the sound reached him. The vampire’s ever vigilant gaze swept across the land and quickly pinpointed the source of movement. With preternatural swiftness, he lashed out and wrenched the unsuspecting creature from its hiding place. He wasted no time burying his elongated fangs into the badger’s flesh, pulling the animal’s blood into his mouth greedily and with greater force than necessary. The creature’s feeble struggle ceased almost immediately as the elf quickly drained it of every sip he could wring from the poor thing before allowing its lifeless body to fall unceremoniously to the ground. As the last drops slithered down his throat, Astarion's chest heaved with a weighted sigh. The small amount of blood that had smeared across his lips and chin was meticulously collected by his long, elegant finger, unwilling to forsake even that scant amount of sustenance. It was not enough, however - hunger still clawed at his insides, demanding more.

Determined, he moved on, each step carrying him further and further from the village. The forest seemed to breathe around him, alive with secrets and shadows, and then—he saw it. A stag, magnificent and robust, grazing in a moonlit clearing. Silent as the grave, he inched closer, eyes locked on his prize. He recalled countless nights like this since he had been freed from Cazador’s grasp. No more bugs or rats, and luckily he’d become quite a skilled hunter, which meant it was not terribly often that he went hungry. Tonight was different, however - he had neglected himself for far too long and as such the stakes of this hunt felt infinitely higher. As he approached, desire warred with desperation, and for one fateful moment, his discipline wavered. A foot misplaced, a twig snapped—a sound so minor yet thunderous in the stillness of the night.

“Godsdamnit!”

The stag’s head snapped to attention before it bolted, its powerful muscles propelling it towards salvation. But before Astarion could even attempt to give chase, the air sang with the deadly whistle of an arrow. It struck true, embedding itself directly into the stag's heart.

"Who’s there?!" Astarion called out, his voice firm and resonant as it sliced through the nocturnal symphony of the forest.

From the shadows, you stepped forth - a petite silhouette materializing with an ease that belied your lethal proficiency. The short bow at your hip seemed an extension of your being, as much a part of you as the determined set to your jaw. Your gaze swept over Astarion, taking in his pallor heightened by the moon's caress, his eyes a smoldering ember in the night.

"What are you doing out here so late?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the quiver that threatened to betray him, “It’s unsafe.”

"Seems I'm doing much the same as you," You replied, your tone matter-of-fact as you turned your eyes towards the carcass at the elf’s feet.

A tension, thick as the earthy scent of the rain-soaked foliage, hung between you before you gestured towards the stag. "Go ahead, feed from it if you want. It’ll make my job a tad less messy."

A soft chuckle escaped Astarion's lips. "Alive would have been preferable, but waste not, want not, I suppose," he murmured, almost to himself.

"That’s a bit fucked up, don't you think?" You prodded, your head tilting slightly, "Preferring to have your meals still squirming?"

"Perhaps…but blood is far from an invariable form of sustenance," he explained, his voice low and intimate with knowledge borne from centuries of necessity. "The blood of larger creatures is richer, more sustaining and the fresher the blood, the better, of course. But this is…fresh enough, I suppose."

"What about human blood?" Your question came softly, carried on by the breeze, “Is that any different or is it all more or less the same so long as it’s fresh?”

Astarion hesitated, his throat working a silent swallow. "To drink from a sentient being," He confessed, "is a vastly different affair. It is profoundly satisfying." His words were laden with a truth he seldom acknowledged. "Every individual's essence is unique, as if flavored by what lies within their soul," he continued, his gaze lifting to meet hers, searching for understanding.

You hummed in acknowledgement but pressed no further, knowing full well that there were certainly some things about his condition he’d rather not speak on and although conceptually you could understand his words, you were hesitant to pull that thread too much in fear he might get the wrong idea about your curiosity. You were not some lustful teenage girl reading filthy stories about sexy, mysterious, vampires taking young maidens in the night and ravishing them like beasts - no, you would not have him think that your interest for him began and ended with the effect he had on that most intimate part of your body. His voice cut through the quiet, breaking you free from your thoughts.

"Y/N, dear…perhaps you'd rather not witness this," he suggested, a subtle strain in his voice as you found him now kneeling before the deceased creature, the pale elf’s shirt removed and folded neatly beside him.

"Please," you retorted, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree. "And let some other beast come and snatch my kill? I think not."

Acknowledging your resolve with a nod, Astarion turned his attention back to the stag. His fangs found purchase in the creature's flesh, piercing deeply. The rush of warm blood filled his mouth, a vital tide that ebbed away the pangs of hunger with each greedy pull. He drank with a fervor that belied his usual composure, the primal act raw and unshielded under your watchful eye. The last of the stag's essence slipped down his throat as he detached, a visceral connection severed. He leaned back, neck arched in a silent reverie, blood painting a stark contrast on his alabaster skin. His chest heaved, a rhythm returning to his breath, as if life itself was restored with each rise and fall.

You watched in hushed awe, your eyes tracing the lines of his chiseled physique. Silence reigned but for the night's chorus and Astarion's steady breaths. Then, your voice sliced through the quiet, "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Astarion's grimace was hidden in shadow, his inner turmoil betraying him for a brief moment. As his eyes opened, they found you, crouched and busying yourself with rope and tools. "You know why," came his whisper, heavy like the moisture in the air.

You nodded, methodically uncoiling the rope as you pressed on, "Are you ashamed?" Your voice barely rose above the rustling leaves.

"Yes," he admitted, the word floating to you on the cool breeze. He watched your movements pause, your lips pressing into a line so firm it threatened to break. "I was weak," he continued, the confession scraping against his conscience. "It should not have happened. I'm sorry for any confusion. It was just…just sex. Nothing more."

The lie hung between you, thick and choking. It clawed at his insides, a vile betrayal of his true feelings.

The rope thudded softly on the damp earth as you dropped it. Fists balled at your side, you sucked in a shaky breath, your head bowed as if to gather strength from the ground itself. When your gaze lifted, the quicksilver flash of anger struck him harder than any physical blow.

"Well, that clears things up, doesn't it? Should I thank you for such a deep and thorough first fuck, then, Father?" Your words were venom-tipped arrows, and they had found their mark.

Astarion's throat tightened around a swallow, the sting of your words igniting something within him that he had no right to feel. His body reacted, traitorous and yearning. With a swift movement, you collected your belongings, standing tall despite the tremor in your stance.

"Y/N, wait!" Astarion's voice clung to the night air as he watched your retreating form, his damp shirt a shapeless mass in the grass behind him. You didn't halt your stride, merely tossed over your shoulder a reply that held a hint of disdain. "You can keep the meat - surely it’s tainted now."

A frustrated growl rumbled from within his chest, aggravation clawing at his composure. With sinewy grace, he vaulted over the stag's remains and closed the distance between you with determined strides. His hand closed around your arm, halting your escape. As he spun you, the soft press of your back against the tree's bark seemed to be the only sound in the otherwise quiet forest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes searching yours in the moonlight. "I never meant to cause you pain."

"Physically or emotionally?" Your words were sharp, probing.

"Either… both." His voice was a murmur steeped in regret.

"Well, you’ve failed spectacularly," you spat, your voice dancing around a bitter laugh. "I’m sure my heart will mend quickly enough, but my body…well, that’s been sullied forever, hasn’t it? Not that I believe in your almighty God and his ridiculous notions of chastity, but you could have been a bit softer with me, Father. I’ve been sore between the legs since last we saw one another.”

Astarion swallowed the low groan that threatened to escape him, a sound that would have certainly been laced with that forbidden edge of desire. He swept a hand through his silver-white hair, the internal battle evident on his features. Sin wrapped its tendrils around his thoughts, but doctrine echoed loudly in the hollows of his mind.

"Still," you eyed him, the concern in your eyes shining clear as day in spite of your furrowed brow, "you look like absolute shit."

He couldn't help the brief chuckle that broke free, raw and real. "I've been without for too long," he admitted. "I need more blood, but it would seem that the beasts that roam this land have caught onto me, I’m afraid."

"Mm, I see," You acknowledged, "You’ve never struck me as a master huntsman, but you’re right - I imagine the storms have many of the animals seeking shelter…hiding. But, if it’s blood you need…I suppose I probably have some to spare." The offer hung between you, heavy and fraught with unspoken tension.

Silence enveloped you, time stretching on for what felt like an eternity. He shouldn't; the very notion was madness. Yet, the temptation…

"Is that what you want?" His voice was barely audible, the weight of his yearning pressing down upon him.

You met his query with a soft nod. "As much as I’d like to punch you in that perfect fucking face of yours right now…you can't stand in front of everyone tomorrow looking like that."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile, appreciating your attempt to lighten the gravity of the situation. "If you’re certain, then let us find somewhere a bit more…comfortable, shall we?"

The forest floor squelched under your hurried footsteps, the air thick with the scent of petrichor as the evening shadows stretched like dark fingers through the trees. You shivered slightly, pulling your cloak tightly around your shoulders, but Father Astarion, shirtless as he was, seemed impervious to the chill.

"Quickly," He urged softly, his voice a low rumble that resonated within his chest. His vermillion eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, flickering with urgency as thunder rumbled off in the distance, the ominous prelude of yet another incoming deluge of rain.

You had almost arrived at the church when the sky broke open once more. Heavy raindrops fell, drenching you both within seconds. Your hair was instantly plastered to your skin and your clothes soaked through, leaving them clinging uncomfortably to your body.

"Shit," Astarion cursed softly, grasping your hand to pull you under the scant shelter of the church's rear doorway. He fumbled with the lock for a moment before you both managed to slip inside, narrowly avoiding as the downpour intensified into a torrential onslaught against the stained glass windows.

"Stay here," The elf instructed, the silver curls of his hair now heavy with rainwater. "I'll find something dry for you to wear."

You watched him stride away, his form a ghostly blur against the backdrop of flickering candlelight. You couldn't help the sarcastic quip that tumbled from your lips. "Oh? Do you just so happen to have a stash of women's clothing lying around, Father?"

His glance back was sharp, those intense eyes narrowing before he vanished into the vestry. Alone, you took a moment to admire the cathedral's grandeur: vaulted ceilings soared above, while Gothic arches whispered tales of reverence.

It wasn't long before Astarion returned, now clad in simple sleepwear that did little to disguise the contours of his body. He extended a folded shirt to you, his gaze carefully neutral. "I believe this should suffice."

"Thank you," you murmured, accepting the garment. It would indeed serve almost as a dress given how it would hang on your much smaller frame. You retreated into a side room to change, peeling off the wet layers with relief. Slipping into Astarion's shirt was like being enveloped in his essence—rosemary, bergamot, and the rich, heady undertone of brandy.

When you stepped out, the change in your appearance arrested the vampire’s restless fidgeting. His thumbs ceased their twirling, and his stare became fixated, drinking in the sight of you draped in his shirt. The fabric outlined your shape, hinting at the curves beneath, and you felt a flush of warmth that had nothing to do with finally being somewhat dry.

"Does it fit well enough?" He asked, his voice betraying a rough edge.

"Quite well, thank you. In fact, I’m rather convinced I wear it better," You teased, striking a playful pose that made Astarion's lips curve slightly.

"Undoubtedly," he breathed out, but there was a palpable tension between the two of you that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" He questioned, his voice low, brimming with concern.

"I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t," You reassured, your gaze steady as you took in his visage. "Seems the Stag’s beginning to breathe some life into you…your color is looking a bit closer to normal, but you’re still a bit hollow around the eyes and I fear you might cut someone on those cheekbones lest we find a way to fill out that face of yours."

A smirk played on his lips, a flash of vanity piercing through his usual stoic facade. "I've always had marvelous cheekbones, thank you. And the shadows beneath my eyes are nothing that a touch of powder can’t fix, certainly."

Your laughter, soft and melodic, filled the quiet space between you. "I think you’ve a touch too much faith in the capabilities of common cosmetics - we’ve nothing here remotely close to the manner of things available back in the city, sorry to say," you teased gently, brushing a finger along the stark line of his jaw.

"True…Very well, I suppose I shall just have to trust your judgment," he replied, inclining his head in mock defeat.

He guided you up a narrow staircase, the loft opening before you like a secret kept within the church's ancient walls. It was surprisingly homely—a single-room apartment with modest furnishings. His bed lay in the center, a pillowy island of solitude.

"Perhaps it would be best if you lay down," He suggested, gesturing toward the bed with a hand that held a tremor only he might notice.

You nodded, acquiescing, and positioned yourself on the mattress, lying with your back propped up atop the pillows. The linen was cool beneath you, lightly caressing your flesh as you watched Astarion circle around to the other side of the bed; you managed a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes…and the hesitation.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” You spoke softly, a nagging worry having crept in from the recesses of your mind, questioning whether or not he was comfortable with this arrangement, “If you don’t want to, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t. I just…I want you to be well.”

You regarded him closely, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he climbed into bed beside you. You’d never seen him look so…soft, so vulnerable - your words clearly had a much more profound impact on him than you’d anticipated. His eyes appeared round and misty, he refused to meet your gaze as he struggled to formulate a response.

“I do…want this,” He answered after a long moment of silence, “Quite badly, if I’m to be completely honest, I just…,” His words trailed off, quiet reclaiming the room before he forced himself to look you in the eyes.

“I know that I shouldn’t,” Astarion continued, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he spoke, “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t crave you the way that I do. Certainly, I shouldn’t indulge these feelings and I just know that…given every way in which I’ve failed you already, that if I were to take of your blood as well…it’s simply not fair of me to take so much of you when I cannot offer you anything in return.”

You bobbed your head softly, acknowledging his words though they stung at your heart. Reaching out, you brushed a loose curl from the man’s forehead and offered a small, warm smile.

“I’m not asking for anything in return, sweet man. But I can see you warring within yourself over it and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any torment…I hope you know that. I can be on my way if it will help.”

Astarion simply reached up and took your hand in his before guiding in down to cup the side of his face. “No, please..,” He murmured, planting a small kiss to the inside of your wrist “Stay with me. I…I’d rather enjoy the company.”

Your heart swelled with warmth at his request, the affection you held for him blooming like a flower within your chest. "Of course," you replied gently.

As you both settled into a comfortable embrace, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting presence of one another. You nestled together closely, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle as you found solace in the simple act of being near.

Wrapped in the priest’s arms, you delighted in this quiet intimacy, the soft rhythm of your breaths slowly lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

The room was cloaked in the stillness of the night, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing as you lay cradled in his arms. You, so tranquil and still in your rest, were a stark contrast to the insatiable hunger that once again clawed at Astarion’s insides.

As a sudden spike of pain tore through his stomach, the vampire broke from his trance, his senses assaulted by the familiar pang that twisted in his gut. He had prayed that he’d had enough…that what he had been able to consume would suffice, but in the back of his mind, he knew better. And he could not ignore the need any longer; the ravenous beast within him demanded more.

Gently, he brushed a lock of hair from your face, his touch tender yet tinged with urgency. "Darling," he whispered, his voice betraying the desperation he felt. "I-I’m so sorry…I need to feed. Please."

You stirred at his words, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. Concern danced in your eyes as the hunger that gripped him was palpable.

"Where?," you inquired softly.

A look of worry crossed his features momentarily as he considered your question. "We must be careful," he cautioned, his voice tinged with apprehension. "The townsfolk cannot see."

You nodded in agreement, your mind racing as you searched for a solution. And then his gaze met yours with a sheepish look.

"I’ve an idea, if you’d be willing to indulge me," he spoke, his voice low and oddly strained.

You felt your skin flush…if you hadn’t already suspected that his suggestion would be less than gentlemanly, the way his eyes crawled down your body and settled near where your legs joined left little doubt.

After a moment of silent deliberation, you simply nodded in agreement.

Astarion's movements were calculated as he positioned himself on the firm mattress, settling on his stomach between your parted legs. His arms, lean yet powerful, slid beneath your knees and against the softness of the bed, securing you in place with a tenderness that stood at odds with his overpowering need.

"Are you absolutely certain?" His voice, usually commanding and confident during his sermons, now quivered with desire and concern

Your unwavering gaze met his as you nodded—a silent agreement sealed with the pounding of your heart against your chest, a rhythm that Astarion could feel echoing through his own being. With reverence and longing, his hands traveled up your thighs, inch by inch pulling up the fabric of your shirt until it bunched just below the curve of your navel.

He paused, inhaling sharply at the sight revealed to him.

“I’m sorry -they were soaked through from the rain. I didn’t think…”

You didn’t think you’d find herself so exposed with his silver-tongue a mere whisper away from your bare heat. Astarion was quiet for a long moment, completely enraptured by your glistening pink slit, the warmth that radiated from your core beckoning him closer. Your body sang of readiness, and the air around him thickened with the scent of your arousal.

"Forgive me," he murmured, not for what he had done, but for the hunger that clawed within him at the sight. Lowering his head, his cheek brushed against the silk of your inner thigh, a wordless vow made against your skin. His groan vibrated through the room as he inhaled deeply, reveling in the intoxicating fragrance of your sex.

"May I?" he asked in hushed tones, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he sought permission one final time.

Your response came not in words, but in a gentle caress, your fingers gliding through his hair, granting consent laced with a plea for moderation. "Only what you need…"

"Not one drop more," Astarion promised. With a tenderness that belied the ferocity of his yearning, he pressed his mouth to your skin in a gentle kiss before sinking his fangs into the delicate flesh. A small, muffled yelp escaped you at the initial sting, your fingers tangling in his curls a little more tightly until the pain faded into a strange, throbbing numbness. He drank deeply, each pull of your essence a sacrament, a communion of bodies and souls entwined in a sacred, profane rite.

Your heart pounded as you felt Astarion's lips on your skin, the sensation both arousing and terrifying. You trusted him - or at least, you thought you did - but the act you were engaging in was taboo, dangerous, and yet it felt necessary. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure that washed over you as Astarion's tongue danced across your sensitive skin. Soon - too soon, it felt - he pulled from you and gently lapped up the remnants of blood that oozed from the twin wounds that now marred your perfect skin. Astarion was thorough, not allowing a single drop of blood to go to waste.

Once again, his cheek pressed tenderly against the softness of your inner thigh, his breath a quiet rhythm against your fevered skin. The room was hushed, save for the intimate rustle of bodies shifting and the gentle beat of your heart. His hand, with reverent touches, drew nonsensical patterns upon your flesh, mapping out a wordless apology.

"How do you feel?" he murmured, his vermilion gaze lifting to meet yours. There was concern etched into the fine lines of his face, a vulnerability that belied his usual composure.

"Strange," you admitted, "but fine." Your voice wavered like a candle flame caught in a draft. You weren't sure if it was from the slight puncture where he had tasted you or from the memory of your bodies joining with sinful urgency.

The pale elf nodded, his eyes betraying him as they dipped lower, settling on your bare sex with an intensity that sent a tremor through your core.

"I hope it didn't hurt too much," he said softly, "I tried to be gentle."

Whether he was referring to the bite or the roughness with which he had claimed your maidenhood was difficult to decipher.

You reached out, threading your fingers through his silver-white curls, letting your touch linger by the shell of his ear, grounding yourself in the sensation. "I'll live," you quipped, attempting to chase away the weight of their transgressions with humor.

His laugh was but a ghost of a sound, a puff of cool air that danced across your heated sex, eliciting an involuntary whimper from your lips. He noticed the shiver that coursed through your body, and his expression softened.

"Would you allow me to kiss it better for you, sweet girl?" Astarion's request rolled off of his tongue with just a hint hesitancy, as if he feared overstepping bounds yet again.

Your breath caught in your throat, desire mingling with doubt. "Not if it's just sex," you whispered, unable to bear the thought of your connection being reduced to mere physicality once more.

In answer, he leaned forward and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your aching center. The contrast of his cool lips against your warmth was a mercy you hadn't known you needed.

"Please forgive me, Y/N," he murmured, his lips grazing your tender flesh with each word, "I am a miserable liar. What I said in the forest… it was cruel and it was false and I am so sorry."

"How do I know that you’re not lying to me now?" Your heart fluttered against your ribs like a caged bird, desperate for the sincerity in his words.

"Let me show you," he urged, his breath brushing against you as he placed another lingering kiss upon your cunt, tongue flicking out to trace your folds with languid tenderness. When he at last he turned his attention to your sensitive nub, he teased it gently, coaxing forth a rush of pleasure that made your toes curl.

"Will you let me show you, darling? Please." His plea vibrated against you, his voice thick with something that sounded achingly close to devotion.

"Yes," you breathed, surrendering to the promise in his eyes and the worshipful caress of his mouth.

The priest's groan vibrated against the sacred silence of the church, a sinful symphony that danced upon the expanse of your bare skin. Spread beneath him like an offering, you felt his hands coax your legs wider apart, his touch reverent and unhurried. The cool air of the hallowed space contrasted with the heat of his mouth as he lavished wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, inching ever closer back to the epicenter of your longing.

"Ah," you stifled a moan, your voice a ghostly whisper among the pews and stained glass.

His tongue found you then, a slow drag through slick folds that had you clenching the sheets beneath you. Each lap was a testament to the hunger that had driven you both here, to this sacrilege. He closed his mouth around you, his lips working your warmth, each pull drawing forth more of your essence which he seemed to worship with every fiber of his being.

"Please, Astarion," you gasped, your plea threaded with desperation.

"Let me hear you," he murmured against you, his breath hot on your skin. "I want to hear everything.”

You nodded, giving yourself over to the sensations he invoked, panting as he dragged his tongue along your slit once more. The tip of his tongue teased the pulsing button of your sex, teasing with a precision that sent sparks shooting through your veins. And then, without warning, he sucked it into his mouth, drawing forth a small cry that echoed through the cavernous church.

"Shhh," he soothed, releasing your clit with a wet pop, his vermillion gaze locked onto you. "Don't hold back, love. Please.."

"Gods, Astarion..," you breathed, your body trembling.

He resumed his ministrations, the skilled play of his tongue ebbing and flowing like a tide over your flesh. With one hand, the elf tenderly parted your lips, revealing the glistening promise of your entrance. He paused, pulling back just enough to meet yours eyes.

"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress.

"Of course," you assured him, your hips canting toward him in silent supplication.

Lowering his mouth to you once more, he placed a chaste kiss upon your mound, before his tongue ventured past the threshold of your body. Slowly, gently, he breached your entrance, each movement a delicate exploration that beckoned you closer to the precipice of rapture.

"Fuck, Astarion! P-please don't stop," you cursed through clenched teeth, your fingers weaving into the silky tresses of his hair, holding him as if he were your anchor to this realm. His tongue danced and plunged with an expertise that belied his vows of celibacy, and each stroke sent ripples of pleasure cascading through you. You arched your back, moaning unabashedly, your hips grinding against the warmth of his face, seeking more of that divine sensation he so skillfully bestowed.

"Ah, yes… just like that," He murmured between lavish laps, his voice vibrating against your flesh. His hand, broad and strong, cupped your ass, pulling you closer, while the other drew lazy, tantalizing circles around your clit, pushing you rapidly towards the edge of ecstasy.

"More, please… I'm—" The plea was cut short as your climax shuddered through you, swift and powerful, leaving you breathless and quivering.

As you lay panting, trying to gather scattered senses, Astarion rose to his knees, discarding his shirt with a flick of his wrist. Your gaze, heavy-lidded with satisfaction, couldn't miss the pronounced bulge straining against his pajama pants—a large, wet stain darkening the fabric. Confusion fluttered in your chest; had he truly found such pleasure in tasting you?

He winced, a soft hiss escaping his lips as he peeled the fabric down, revealing the imposing thickness of his erection. It stood proud and flushed, veins pulsating with the lifeblood you both shared, precum glistening at its tip. You sucked in a breath, your own arousal reigniting at the sight of his need.

"Come, lie down," you whispered, coaxing him onto the bed.

He obliged, stretching out on his back, his hand already traveling along his length, gripping himself with a desperation that bordered on agony. Furrows of pleasure etched his brow, and his moans, strained and urgent, filled the room. Your shirt joined his on the floor, and you moved to kneel between his legs, your naked form on display for his hungry eyes.

Your gaze traveled from his face down to the heavy weight of his balls, full and tight. Tentatively, you leaned forward and let your tongue trace along the seam, feeling him twitch beneath your touch. More precum wept from his slit, a silent testament to his prolonged abstinence.

"Gods, you're so full… so ready," you mused aloud, your breath hot against his skin.

Eager to taste him, you ran your tongue up the underside of his shaft, savoring the saltiness of his skin before swirling around the head of his cock and enveloping it with your mouth. The heat, the weight, the sheer intensity of him made your head spin.

Astarion groaned as your mouth enveloped him, his hips bucking involuntarily in search of relief. But your ministrations kept him anchored in place, your mouth dutifully coaxing his pleasure to the surface. His fingers tangled in the silkiness of your hair, pulling you closer.

As he neared his peak, Astarion's eyes screwed shut, his mind reeling with the realization that you were doing this, that you were once again bringing him to completion. He could feel the tingling sensation start at the base of his cock and rush upwards in waves of ecstasy, his body trembling with each surge of pleasure.

"Darling, I…" He gasped, his voice a strained whimper as the intensity of his orgasm washed over him. But you didn't stop, your mouth never losing its hold on him, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head as he spurted his release into your mouth with a primal groan.

You pulled back, licking the remainder of his spend from your lips. His eyes burned with a hunger that was neither sinful nor divine, but simply human. They were the eyes of a man who had just experienced one of the most exquisite of sins. Yet even as the taste of him lingered on your lips, his manhood remained hard and ready.

The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air as you gently crawled atop and straddled Astarion, his hard length still pulsing from the warmth of your mouth. You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that mingled the taste of your shared ecstasy. Your moans vibrated against one another's tongues, a delicious symphony to their heightened senses.

"Gods," Astarion breathed out as you teased him further, your slick warmth sliding tantalizingly along his bare erection. It was an exquisite torture, the friction sending shivers racing up his spine.

"Keep going," he growled, his voice a husky whisper laden with lust. "You feel incredible."

His hands found your hips, fingers pressing deeply into your flesh to guide your movements. Together, you found a rhythm, your hips rolling in an intoxicating dance atop him.

"F-fuck...more, sweet girl - I need more," The elf groaned, his eyes burning into yours as you shifted your position. The head of his cock nudged at your entrance, a silent plea for the union you both craved.

Locking eyes with him, you felt the ache between your legs intensify, a sweet pain that begged for relief. With breathless anticipation, you began lowering yourself, enveloping him slowly, torturously. Inch by inch, you took him inside, until at last you were fully seated in his lap, the crown of his cock pressed intimately against your cervix.

"Ah…Astarion," you panted, your voice a throaty cascade of need.

"Fuckkk….darling," he rasped, his gaze holding yours captive. "You are perfection."

His breath hitched as you withdrew until only his tip remained nestled in your heat only to sink back down onto him, your velvet walls gripping him like a vice. The sheer intensity of the moment had him gasping for air as if he actually needed it. His hands roamed over your hips, his mind enraptured with the image of his throbbing cock disappearing into the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

You rocked yourself harder, driving him deeper inside, and Astarion's eyes widened in awe.

He couldn't help but marvel at the way your curves seemed to be made for him, your body arching perfectly as you gently bounced on top of him. The incredible wetness of your arousal coated his shaft, the excess sliding even further onto his balls. He moaned quietly as you began to move faster, your hips undulating in a maddening rhythm that left him panting for more.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he began to drive himself into you from below, his hips finding a punishing rhythm that matched the ferocity of your lust. Sweat dripped from both of your bodies, mingling with the heat of your union.

"So good…so good," he whimpered, his hands pulling you closer, deeper.

You arched your back, head thrown back in a silent cry.

"Harder," you begged, your voice laced with desperation.

Astarion's hips surged forward, rutting into your cervix with a force that had your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You cursed softly as the walls of your pussy tightened around him, clenching as if to pull him in deeper, and the ragged cry that escaped you could surely be heard beyond the walls of the Cathedral.

It wasn’t long before you felt your entire body tighten like a coil, your climax rapidly approaching with each drag of his cock against your walls. Astarion's eyes locked onto you, and a knowing smirk spread across his face. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was reveling in the knowledge that it was he who was causing you to come apart so beautifully.

Bracing yourself on Astarion's chest, your nails dug into his skin, and your moans grew louder and more fervent. Your body began to shake, and your muscles tensed as your climax coursed through you. He continued to thrust into you, matching the rhythm of your orgasm until your body finally calmed to a quivering, your breath coming in soft pants.

"Astarion, I…"

But he didn't let you finish. He leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues tangling together. His hips continued to move, his pace having slowed slightly as you recovered.

The feeling of him inside of you - stretching you open around him- was indescribable, and still you craved nothing more than to feel him deeper, to have him claim you completely.

With a growl, he pulled back, his aching cock slipping out of your core with a wet pop. You whimpered at the loss, but he quickly wrapped his arms around your middle and flipped you. He now hovered above you, your legs resting atop his broad shoulders as he reached down and teased your entrance with the blunt head of his cock. With a single, powerful thrust, he surged back into your heat, driving himself into your center hard and deep. You cried out, your head thrown back as he claimed you entirely. Your cunt clenched around him, spasming in response to his aggressive invasion.

Astarion's eyes were fixed on where the two of you met for a moment, watching as he split you open…listening to the delicious sounds that fell from your lips as you took every single inch of him, before he returned his attention to you - watching as your face contorted with pleasure. The sight of you, lost in his grasp, was almost too much for him to bear.

"So good," he groaned.

Each thrust sent another wave of electricity coursing through him, that primitive desire to claim you fully taking over. His hands gripped your ass, lifting you and pulling you closer to meet each punishing stroke of his cock. He was close.

Pressing small kisses to his neck and face, you pulled back just slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored his own. "I want to feel you cum inside of me again," she panted. "I want to fill me - over and over- until you take root."

Astarion's eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew this was wrong, knew that he was risking so much, but he couldn’t stop himself. More than that, he didn’t want to. He could feel the weight of so many years of unspent seed inside of him, begging to be released.

With a low growl, he plunged into you, his hips pounding against you with such force you were certain there would be bruises. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound lost in the passionate cries that filled the room. The muscles of his thighs strained as he pushed himself deeper into your wrecked little hole, his eyes never leaving yours.

His lips crashed against yours with a fervor that spoke of more than just lust as his movements became more urgent, each thrust pushing him to the brink of his own undoing. The sound of your union filled the room, an erotic symphony that grew with every gasp and moan.

"Ah..f-fuck," he whimpered between kisses, his voice vibrating through you. His hips drove forward one final time, burying himself deep within your warmth. The hot rush of his release flooded your tight channel, his seed spilling into you, claiming your flesh in the most primal way. Even as some of his cum seeped from where you were still joined, tracing a warm path down your thighs, you remained acutely aware of his pulsing presence still locked inside of you.

"Tell me," Astarion whispered hoarsely against your lips, his breath hitched with the aftershocks of his orgasm, "do you truly wish for this? To carry my children?" His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Your response came not in words but in action—a timid nod, an admission so genuine it burned. Embarrassment tinged your features, but the earnestness of your desire was unmistakable.

With a tenderness that belied the fervency of moments ago, Astarion began to rock, a gentle rhythm that massaged his essence deeper into your womb.

"And would you be mine…forever? My precious wife, sitting all prim and proper in the church, listening as I recite scripture and the teachings of our Lord?”

You could almost see yourself there, among the faithful, a serene smile masking the vivid memories of the carnal ways in which the two of you would worship one another after the pews had emptied.

You nodded again, carding your fingers gently through his curls. “I’d love nothing more.”

His smile was a rare gift, a gleam of shared secrets and unspoken promises.

"Then it shall be so," he purred, an oath that echoed in the very depths of your soul. And with that, Astarion pressed a gentle kiss to you lips, another to your forehead, and continued to hold you close, never withdrawing, as you both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

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