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lady-wallace · 2 years

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Poison the the Blood: Whumptober Day 22 (Case Study of Vanitas)

My first official Vanitas fic for @whumptober today!

Prompt: “Pick Your Poison” (toxic)

Fandom: Case Study of Vanitas

Character: Vanitas

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Masterpost

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Noé panted in the aftermath of the fight, taking a moment to get his breath back. That curse-bearer had been a lot more violent than they had expected when they'd originally headed out on the mission.

The vampire cringed as he peeled blood-soaked gloves off his hands. The leather had been soaked and was probably ruined now. He pressed his hand to the claw marks across his upper arm with a wince. The wound wasn't bad, but it did sting and meant that he would have to mend his coat and shirt. Again. They certainly hadn't expected a hoard of zombie-like wildlife to have been utilized by the cursed vampire to go after them.

It had been tales of a beast hiding in the woods that had sent him and Vanitas out here on their latest hunt. And yet, of course, it could never be that simple. Vanitas just had the habit of finding trouble.

Speaking of which…

"Vanitas?" Noé called, looking around. He'd been separated from the dark-haired man during the fight that had broken out, but with the forest so quiet now, he could only come to the conclusion that Vanitas had been able to cure the vampire of the curse.

He pushed his way through the underbrush, passing several more bodies of the corrupted animals until he got to a clearing.

That's where he found Vanitas, bent over a figure on the ground, his back to Noé.

"Vanitas?" he called again, stepping closer.

The man didn't look at him, simply shifted slightly and said. "He didn't make it."

Noé frowned as he came to stand beside Vanitas, glancing down at the figure lying on the ground. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the dark veins running through the vampire's pale body, eyes staring vacant up at the sky, bloodshot and glazed over.

"What is this?" Noé asked.

Vanitas shook his head. "The curse had gotten it's claws too far into him." His lip twisted. "But I think he was already sick." He pushed himself to his feet, almost dismissively, but Noé caught the slight waver in his step, the way Vanitas quickly turned his eyes away.

"I'm sorry," Noé told him quietly as he crouched and reached out to close the dead vampire's eyes.

Vanitas snorted. "Apologize to him, he's the one who's dead. We came out here to make sure no one else died by his hand. Our mission has been accomplished."

Noé pressed his lips together firmly. Despite Vanitas's ambivalent attitude, he knew how much it bothered his friend when he failed to save those he set out to cure. He called himself a doctor, but he allowed himself to carry too many burdens.

Noé stood and turned, catching Vanitas favoring an arm, a pulled expression on his face before he tucked it against his ribs, letting his coat fall back around it.

Noé frowned. Now that he was looking for it, he could smell the all-too-familiar sweetness of Vanitas's blood. But there was something else along with it. Was it from the dead vampire? Perhaps the animals.

"Vanitas, are you injured?" he asked.

"Nothing to worry about." Vanitas waved him off as he bent to pick up his blade that he appeared to have lost at some point during the fight. As he straightened back up, however, he wavered, pressing a hand briefly to his head as if dizzy.

Noé stepped forward, one hand held out cautiously as if to steady him. "At least let me look at it."

"It's fine, barely bleeding!" Vanitas snapped at him, pointedly shifting out of reach. "Let's just get back to Paris, shall we?"

Noé pressed his lips together again, but nodded reluctantly, having little other choice but to follow Vanitas as he made his way off through the woods. He was probably right anyway. It's not like Vanitas was a stranger to injury. He had indeed had worse.

That's what he told himself anyway until he watched Vanitas stumble and catch himself on the trunk of a tree.

Noé hurried the few steps toward him and plainly saw the distressed expression on Vanitas's face before he was quick to hide it, breathing heavily.

"Vanitas," Noé tried.

The dark-haired man clenched his jaw and pushed himself upright, reaching up to wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead. "I'm fine, let's just…let's—"

A gasp escaped his throat and he gripped his arm tightly, propping himself against the tree.

"What is it?" Noé demanded, stepping forward to grip Vanitas's shoulder.

He cringed and tried to pull away. "S-something's wrong," he gritted out from between clenched teeth. And just the admission alone terrified Noé, not to mention the pain and fear plainly marking Vanitas's face.

"What do you mean something's wrong?" he demanded. "Is it the wound?"

He reached for Vanitas's coat, yanking it to one side and revealing the bloodstains on Vanitas's sleeve right above the spot where his glove ended. He'd tied a kerchief around it, but was already tugging at it, pulling the cloth free to reveal the tears in the sleeve.

The scent of Vanitas's blood hit Noé more potently now, but it was…wrong. There was an underlying scent of bitterness. His nostrils flared in protest, but that wasn't the only issue, he realized as he caught sight off Vanitas's arm.

Dark veins had started to crawl up his arm from the wound, just like the ones they had seen covering the dead vampire.

"Vanitas," he breathed as the man could obviously see the issue now as well, paling further.

"Damn," Vanitas swore under his breath. "I guess that curse was more potent than I realized."

"I don't understand, I was injured too…" Noé said, glancing briefly toward his shoulder.

Vanitas shook his head. "Not by the curse itself. Besides, it might not affect you the same way." He swayed slightly then and Noé reached out to grip his shoulder, feeling Vanitas shaking.

"We need to get back to Paris quickly. Someone must know what to do about this," Noé said quickly, trying to provide some form of comfort to Vanitas, all while he himself was trying not to panic. "If we get to the road we might be able to catch a ride with someone…"

Vanitas didn't reply, simply moving forward again.

He didn't get far before he swayed again and this time did make it to his knees, breathing heavily and clutching his arm to his chest.

"Vanitas," Noé breathed, feeling helpless as he reached down to pull his friend back to his feet. "At least let me help you."

Vanitas, white as a sheet, allowed Noé to try and get him to his feet, but a small cry finally escaped his mouth and he doubled over, hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"Hurts, dammit," Vanitas croaked.

Noé instead helped Vanitas over to sit against a tree where he collapsed gratefully. Noé crouched in front of him and opened his coat before pulling up the ruined sleeve of Vanitas's shirt.

Even in just those few minutes, the poison had spread, creeping up his shoulder and threatening to start crawling over his chest—toward his heart.

Vanitas swallowed and looked away, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. He was sweating pretty badly, and Noé pressed the back of his hand to the dark-haired man's forehead as Vanitas's brow furrowed in an exhausted annoyance.

"You're fevered too," Noé informed him, growing more and more worried by the second. "Vanitas…this is spreading fast. I don't know if we'll be able to make it back in time."

Vanitas let out a long exhale. "Then I suppose it's pointless. It's not like there's a cure. At least none that I know of." His face scrunched up again with pain and he curled into himself.

Noé thought frantically for some solution. He was not about to leave Vanitas here to give up and die. There had to be some way.

He caught the scent of Vanitas's corrupted blood again, and cringed before his eyes widened with a sudden thought.

"Vanitas," he called, and the man's eyes opened briefly, a slit of blue underneath dark bangs. He swallowed hard. "I—I have an idea."

"What? Did you think of some miracle cure that quickly?" Vanitas murmured sarcastically.

Noé shook his head. He knew Vanitas wasn't going to like this but it seemed like their only option.

"I'll suck the poison out," he said firmly.

Vanitas stared at him for a long moment then simply said, "No."

"But Vanitas—"

"You'll be drinking my blood too," Vanitas cut in, already pulling his coat back around him with clumsy fingers. "I refuse."

"You'll die if we don't do something!"

"That's yet to be seen," Vanitas said as he started to push himself back up. "Now help me up and let's get back to Paris."

Noé put his foot down. "You're poisoned, Vanitas!"

"I said no!"

His voice was surprisingly strong that time, and Noé clenched his jaw, deciding that protesting at this point wasn't going to get them anywhere. He silently helped Vanitas back to his feet. His friend leaned heavily on him as they started off again and Noé kept a firm grip on Vanitas to keep him on his feet.

They had only been walking for a few more minutes, before Vanitas suddenly cried out and reached up to clutch at his chest.

"Vanitas…" Noé called, wishing he could do more than simply hold his friend up on his feet.

"It's…like fire," Vanitas choked out, doubling over as he started to tear clumsily at his necktie. Noé reached out to help and when it was free, he could clearly see the veins crawling up Vanitas's neck through the open collar of his shirt.

Vanitas was panting, barely conscious for the pain he was clearly suffering. Sweat dripped down his forehead, sticking his bangs to his skin, his hand clawed briefly at his chest before falling to his side, head lolling with a pained exhale.

"Vanitas?" Noé demanded, gripping his shoulders more firmly, but the dark-haired man seemed to be unconscious now or at least too delirious to answer.

Trying to push aside the panic, Noé grabbed him under the arms and carried him over to prop against a tree. His fever was burning, concentrating particularly around the areas the poison had spread.

Noé pulled Vanitas's shirt down his shoulder seeing how worryingly close the poison was getting to his heart. He swallowed hard.

They really were out of options right about now. Without a certain cure, the only thing Noé could think to do was to suck the poison from the wound.

He knew Vanitas didn't want him to drink his blood, but it could very possibly save his life right now.

Decided, Noé reached out to peel off Vanitas's glove, rolling up his sleeve as he took his limp arm in both hands, staring down at it.

To think that once he had longed for even a taste of his friend's blood—it had always smelled so good. Now, forced to do it against Vanitas's will, accompanied by the suppurating smell of the poison made him sick to his stomach.

But he steeled himself and bent toward the wound.

"Forgive me, Vanitas," he whispered to his unconscious friend before he sunk his teeth into Vanitas's arm.

Bitter blood filled his mouth, and Noé forced himself not to instantly pull away, reminding himself why he was doing this.

It was after the first mouthful that the memories began to form and Noé felt himself dragged away from reality, pulled into the depths of the corrupted blood…

Flashes of dead bodies lying on the ground, a small boy, Vanitas, crying over a man stained in blood.

Taken in the dark of night, dragged to some sort of lab. Needles, knives, pain, constant pain.

Noé gasped and drew back, spitting the blood onto the ground, gagging slightly, dizzy from the swirl of horrible memories that had assaulted his head. Vanitas's memories. He shook, glancing down at his friend who had slid down to lay on his side, looking like death as Noé clutched his arm tightly. The dark veins of poison were still there. He wasn't done yet.

With renewed sense of duty, Noé closed his eyes and set his teeth into Vanitas's arm again, drawing out more of the poison.

The cries of a young boy, so much pain in the sound. Vanitas giving himself up, dragged away to endure more torment. Too many horrible experiments to count, meted out on his young body, changing, corrupting…

Noé choked, reeling back again and spitting more blood from his mouth. His stomach rolled, wanting to rebel, but he forced the nausea back down. Noé reached for Vanitas's shirt and pulled it open again, seeing that the dark veins had finally started to disperse, now only concentrated on his arm. It was working, he realized with relief. Only a little more now.

Vanitas stirred, face scrunched in pain. A moan escaped his parted lips as he tugged weakly on his arm.

"Just a little bit more," Noé told him—and himself if he were being honest.

He steeled himself and went in for, hopefully, the last time, bracing as more memories assaulted him.

The ethereal Vampire of the Blue Moon corrupted beyond help. Vanitas stoically ending the being, putting them to rest before more horror.

The pain, the fear, the pure loneliness. Swirling, swirling, mixed with blood and darkness…

Noé reeled backward, gasping. The last mouthful had been sweet, no longer corrupted. He had done it.

He glanced at the pale arm he held in his trembling hands, woozily blinking at it until he registered nothing but blood dripping from the wound and the new marks he'd put there. No more lines of poison.

Noé felt relief fill him at the same time his stomach rebelled and he turned to the side, vomiting up any blood he had accidently swallowed.

His eyes and nose streamed as he wiped his mouth, reaching up to clutch his aching head.

He glanced back toward Vanitas who still shook, but seemed to be breathing easier now.

Noé fumbled his coat off, spreading it over his unconscious friend, head still swirling with all those things he'd seen.

But he was honestly too exhausted himself to think about it anymore. He lay down in the underbrush and tried to will his mind to rest as his eyes fluttered shut.

XXX

Noé woke with a start, blinking in confusion as he stared up at the sun-dappled branches above him.

He glanced around and saw Vanitas sitting up against the tree beside him, playing with a bandage around his arm.

Noé shot up instantly. "Vanitas!"

The man glanced over briefly. "You're finally awake," he said before turning back to his arm.

Noé glanced at it too and saw that Vanitas had pulled the bandage down, looking at the fang marks in his flesh before he yanked the bandage back in place. Noé flushed slightly, realizing Vanitas knew what he had done now.

"Are…how are you feeling?" he asked cautiously.

Vanitas finally turned back to him and shocked Noé by slapping him across the face.

"You bastard," Vanitas said too quietly.

Noé placed a hand over the stinging spot on his cheek. "You were dying," is all he said.

"I told you not to," Vanitas growled.

"I won't apologize for saving your life," Noé told him firmly, returning his hands to his lap.

Vanitas made a scoffing sound before lowering his head. "Good. I guess I won't have to say thanks then," he mumbled.

Noé stared for a long moment, before he had to fight back a smile. "I suppose that's fair."

Vanitas continued playing with the bandage before he bitterly asked, "What did you see, then? Because you might as well tell me. I know you'll want to ask about it anyway."

Noé pressed his lips together, considering. On the one hand, he could bring up the topic, allow Vanitas the opportunity to talk about his past if he wished. But on the other hand, Noé knew how his friend was. That he would rather discuss those things when he was ready—if he ever was.

So instead, Noé sighed. "Honestly? It wasn't much of anything. Snatches of memories that I couldn't really grasp. I think it might have had something to do with the poison."

Vanitas watched him for a long moment, and Noé was sure that he had seen through his lies.

But Vanitas only grunted and pushed himself a bit stiffly to his feet. "We really do need to be getting back now though.

Noé scrambled to his feet, swinging his coat back on. Vanitas must have placed it over him after he had woken up because it had been draped over his chest. He could still smell the faint waft of Vanitas's blood, but it was back to normal. No underlying bitterness.

Everything he had seen in the other man's memories suddenly washed over him with a sickening dizziness, and Noé watched his friend stretch his back out with a wince for a second, before he impulsively stepped forward.

"Vanitas," he said.

"What?" Vanitas turned around, a cautious frown between his brows.

Noé pulled him into a firm embrace, holding him tight as Vanitas froze against him.

"Huh—Oi!" Vanitas finally shifted, trying to wriggle free, but Noé simply held on tighter, resting his chin on Vanitas's shoulder.

Vanitas huffed a sigh, then finally relaxed. He didn't hug back, but he allowed Noé to squeeze him tightly for a few more seconds before he pulled away.

"What the hell was that about?" Vanitas demanded, straightening his clothes and refusing to look Noé in the face.

Noé just smiled at him and started off through the trees.

"Aren't we heading back to Paris?" he asked.

Vanitas grumbled and trudged after him, but he seemed to be back to himself, and that was really all that Noé asked for.

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disastertriowriting · 2 months

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@clonefandomevents

This is for the square "Sith AU" ^-^

In which the Bad Batch stumble onto a cave in the Clone Wars, missing the rumors that anything of it is amiss... until Crosshair gets transformed into something other.

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watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees · 2 months

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Chapter 1 - Denial

TW: vampire whumper, vampire hunter whumpee, non consensual blood drinking, mention of past staking, mention of gnarly scars

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here!" She rushed up to the vampire hastily as soon as she recognised it "Destroying my life, my celebration and endangering a whole human family wasn't enough? And apparently we're still in danger! Get out before-" she was cut short by the vampire's soft laughter.

"Before what?" he asked, eyebrows raised, he didn't turn back to look at her, instead he was pretending to browse the menu in front of him. They were standing a few feet away from the crowd waiting to be let in the restaurant. It was a big night for one of her cousins, killing their first vampire, just as she had the year before.

"Before I finish what I, apparently, didn't do properly the first time" If she had spent just a moment thinking about it, she would’ve realised it was an insane thing to do as she touched the small of his back lightly tapping to find the place she hit with the stake. Gently tracing along his spine, her chest felt tight with victory, or perhaps anxiety. In the vampire’s book that was mistake number two after not managing to kill him.

The crowd started moving behind them, most of them had already met and survived attacks from the monstrous creatures, she thought the vampire had no chance if he was discovered among them. She didn't want any disruptions at the gathering though, it wasn’t her moment, so she was willing to keep quiet if he left by himself. She'd never threaten a vampire, she wasn't dumb, but the odds here seemed to work in her favor.

"It was more like here" he reached behind his back guiding her hand lower. She chuckled condescendingly at his nonchalance she mistook for stupid arrogance. His hand stopped at a point just above his waistline.

She winced with surprise as she felt the scar under his shirt. Even through the fabric she felt a bump that one can only truly imagine if they had a terribly healed wound. It must've been a gnarly scar there that her stake left.

Vampire’s shouldn’t have scars. It must have been some sort of sick trick to get her to feel bad for the creature, a manipulation tactic. Still it worked, because her heart sank to the thought of wounding the other creature so badly, so close to its spine, leaving a mark on his perfect immortal skin. Coldness crept up her throat threatening to spill in the form of a cry for help. She tried to yank her hand away from his back but he held it there effortlessly.

"Feel that? There's still a splinter in there from the stake you drove through me. It could paralyze me at any moment, y'know" he finally turned to face her, just in time for them to seamlessly join the queue entering the building. He still didn't let go of her hand, but turned the grip into a significantly more gentle, almost polite hold "Shall we?"

The sinking feeling hit in a newer wave, pressing tears to the brim of her waterline, but she couldn't cry. People did have a chance of being hurt exclusively because of her. She had no doubt he'd kill anyone in his way to get back to her. How long until someone can actually do something against the ambush from inside the crowd?

They got caught up by a group of her second cousins. The younger ones stared at the vampire curiously.

“Who’d you bring with Carter?”

"He's my friend, Julius" The sentence vibrated through her mind before reaching her lips to escape, without any way of stopping it "he's in town for a little while, I thought I'd bring him with" not even the older cousins noticed the twitch of her eye, trying to let them know it wasn't her talking.

"Pleasure" Julius nodded to them with a huge smile plastered on his face.

The two of them sat at the very end of the long table, going unnoticed by nosey aunties and uncles, and far enough from the disruptive children running about.

Some waiters emerged from what room must've been the kitchen and started taking drink orders.

"Black tea, please" he ordered with a smile.

"Just a glass of water" Carter was the last one to order, the waiters disappeared again. If only she could signal to them she's in terrible danger.

"Wise choice, you're going to need that" she swallowed back another wave of tears. He gently caressed her arm raising goosebumps as he ran his fingers gently over and over her delicate skin.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered, locking her eyes on the empty plate in front of her. He leaned in, way too close for comfort, to whisper in her ear.

"I'm taking back everything you took from me, and giving you back exactly what you gave me" Too quiet to raise suspicion, too vague to make sense of to ease her anxiety.

...

Julius lifted the mug to his lips, taking a big sip of the burning hot tea.

"Feed me!" he ordered, as he lowered the mug below the table away from prying eyes, if there were any.

"What?" she snapped her head to the side to look at him. Wide-eyed, but not terrified. Well, not yet anyway. More like confused.

"Give me your hand" he instructed, and somehow she knew not obeying was not an option at that moment. She shakliy reached her hand out for him to grab and press it to the brim of the mug. With the other hand he pulled something from his pocket. He moved so quickly she almost didn't catch the glint of the switchblade sliding dangerously close to her palm over the mug "Keep that smile on your face gorgeous” Carter felt his compulsion take over her face, keeping up the facade.

He pushed the blade down, slicing through skin and muscle, letting fresh blood fill the mug back up to his liking. He wiped her hand down the side of the mug to get any remaining drops of her blood only then did he let go.

The cut healed with magical speed, it barely took a few moments for the evidence of assault to disappear

"H-how did you do that” she wanted to ask looking at her skin perfectly intact.

"This is completely gross, but I licked the side of the mug before I had your hand there. It healed the cut completely, you should thank me, I was very generous with that" her thoughts were racing with each other, escape plans running over feelings of revenge, worry poisoning the mix creating the wildest combinations.

"Thank you" she whispered absentmindedly. Not even the vampire taking a sip from his mug brought her back for a second.

"Was that really so scary?" he laughed still keeping his voice down, he lifted the mug back to his mouth. He didn't just take a sip this time, he gulped down all of the blood.

#whump #vampire whumper #vampire hunter whumpee #oc whump #tw scars #tw knife #non consensual blood drinking #Julius and Carter #elias writes vampires #original story

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fanfictasia · 7 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Vader Characters: Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampires, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Vampire Obi-Wan Kenobi, Vampire Darth Vader, non-consensual biting, Darth Vader Needs a Hug, Possessive Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt Darth Vader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Dysfunctional Family, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Anakin Skywalker's Parent, Blood Drinking, Mild Blood, Whump, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

Vader expected to lose the duel to Obi-Wan on Jabi'im, but he didn't quite expect Obi-Wan to jump and... bite him? Because apparently, his former master is now a vampire, and he has every intention of taking Vader with him as his new fledgling.

Read on:

https://www.wattpad.com/1390833573-star-wars-one-shots-the-blood-awakens

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14289911/1/The-Blood-Awakens

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celestialhighwind · 2 years

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Fatal Seduction

Chapter two, of a title unknown.

The Blood.

It’s not like I haven’t been bloodied from battle before, why do I care? Taking off my boots, the tiny droplets of the splatter dance before my eyes, seeming to form a pattern. I blink and it recedes; I need sleep, and soon. I had forgotten how long it had been since I had slept in an actual bed, yet alone had a hot bath.

The faucet is turned with one eager twist and the water begins to flow free, bringing with it the smell of the ground and iron from the pipes, clean and fresh hits my nose instantly relaxing me. The water, now hot, creates a more humid environment in the room, which contrasts the days spent in the cold and barren Coerthan winds. Toes now free of my boots and wet socks from the snow now feel hot in my body's attempt to acclimate back to a normal temperature, best not to burn them further in the hot water yet. I sit at the edge of the cold marble tub and place both hands wrapped around one foot at a time to help the process while thoughts wandered, reflecting upon the events that had unfolded in the last few days.

The screams, I can still hear them ringing in my ears, but why? It was just a dragon to be summoned and slayed for the benefit of a stupid trial of Alberic's to prove my worth, which made no sense since I was somehow chosen already. Although, he did make mention of a ritual, but I haven't a clue how that ties in with anything just yet, especially since out of fear I failed to relay to him that I had absorbed whatever aether that creature released at its demise. I wouldn't want to be overheard and someone claim that I was now a Heretic. Gods, what have I done?

My toes are now a normal cool to the touch and are ready to meet the water, so I oblige their need. I place my steel outer armour upon the racks and proceed to slip the sleeveless black undershirt over my head and toss that on the floor to pick up later.

A warm, full sensation felt on my shoulder.

I move my hand up my shoulder and feel nothing, so I spin around to identify my intruder. Nothing. I am alone. Now paranoid, hands unsteady, I pick up the closest blunt or sharp object that I could quickly find, which happened to be my lance propped up on the wall near the tub of water and peered into the next room, scanning every shadow that filled the Inn room. I move slowly towards the stone window, dark curtains pulled back and moonlight caressing the wooden floors in the center of the spacious room before me. Candles steady, I see no air upturned by a visitor, and drop my lance to my side. I do one final scan, peering under the plain bed in one darkened corner of the room, and making sure my eyes see nothing out of the ordinary behind any chests, boxes, or shelves. So far I have not seen any Asciens since coming here, but I’ll be damned if I ever do. I continue undressing and slip into the soothing hot water to melt my troubles away, if only temporarily.

—----------------------

With my lance next to me, I crawl into my sleep sack, against the boulder heated by the fire. The smell of wet cedar still lingers in the pile of ash as I allow my eyes to adjust back to the dark shadows in the cavern. No trouble stirring and I am perfectly hidden from predators. My eyes wander back to the open mountain range, taking in the white snow caps visible under the moonlight as sleep takes me slowly, peacefully tonight. Visions of the trees as I once knew them, danced before my eyes, emerald green leaves glittering as they tickle the sunlight from above their canopy, warm breeze caresses my face as my body feels heavier with relaxation. I suddenly realize my aching feet under the wool, but my arms are too heavy to reach them.

The sound of running water.

I imagine a river, once flowing freely in the summer, now overtaken by a thick sheet of ice. Oh, how I used to run through the streams, bare feet slapping against sunkissed rocks, cool water splashing against the warm grass as we used to chase toads, and sometimes springing from boulder to boulder in mimicry of them. A memory that has become all too distant with just an emotion left behind.

Grief. An ache in my chest.

I suddenly remember my aching feet and reach down to them. My toes feel as cold as ice in my hands. I see visions of blood splatter against my boots. Nay, not my boots, they are too far away for me to reach from here, and I am not wearing boots.

Anguished screams ring through my ears, but they are not mine.

I see a woman in the river, sitting on a boulder. Her hair beaming hues of fire in the bright sunlight, and I am reminded of the woman that came looking for me a few days ago. Her skin is slightly tanned from sitting in the sun and she is holding a clear flask, emitting a strange aether. Something about this scene causes something within me to stir, so I take a few steps toward the woman to get a better view. As I draw closer, I could see the liquid within the flask is a very dark burgundy color, emitting purple aether and my breath ceases. Dragon’s blood! I quickly close in the space remaining between us and place a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She quickly spins around, and I see her face, as bright as the sun now beating down on us. Green eyes, I am taken aback.

Celestial!

The flask drops to the ground, unbroken, and the purple aether forms into two faces of familiarity. Scales glowing in their images, Greywine and Archeoavis snarled at the sight of me. I jump as they see me, fangs bared and a low growl from one of them. I reach my hand towards Celestial once again and try yelling her name, but no sound comes from my mouth.

“Celest–” I manage trying once more, but not before the scene becomes blurry and I am back at my camp, shivering and glistening in fresh sweat from the nightmare. Worry that hadn’t been there now grips me. Have I seen a vision? This was the woman that Alberic had sent for me, had she consumed dragon’s blood?

#estinien x reader #chapter 2 #untitled #ffxiv headcanons #ao3 #Non consensual blood drinking #anguish #trauma #very slow burn #slow burn #eventual smut #estinien varlineau #estinien x wol

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thedreamlessnights · 2 months

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Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it.

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing.

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long.

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path.

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel.

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face.

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch.

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now.

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

“Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.”

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same.

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel.

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best.

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too.

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees.

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?”

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.”

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud.

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything.

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound.

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood.

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?”

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision.

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue.

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind.

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething.

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief.

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps.

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him.

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck.

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it.

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand.

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again.

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot.

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment.

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements.

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble.

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire.

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals.

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #mywriting

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foxgivenblank · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Original Character, Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Shisui Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Injury, Blood, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Original Character Death(s), OC is worried they will sexually assault her but they don't, They do kill her though, Whumptober 2022, Whumptober Series: Part 11 of Whumptober 2022 Summary:

No. 11 “911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?” Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid | Makeshift Splint

An unlucky woman gets caught up in something, supernatural. She just wanted to help.

#Naruto #Whumptober 2022 #vampire au #non consensual blood drinking #murder

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d10nyx · 3 months

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don't hold your breath(nobody's home)

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk

a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3

word count: 1.9k words

Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.

He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.

Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.

He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.

Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.

He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.

He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.

Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.

Fuck this.

He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

“Leon… Leon, what're you doing?” You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance.

He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.

“Shh… it's okay, I'm… I'm gonna take care ‘f you.” He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.

“Hey.” He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. “That's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.”

Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.

Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.

You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. “Swallow.”

He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.

“There we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. “What're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.”

There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to… what? Fist his dick in the guest room?

He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.

“I was gonna be nice.” He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.

You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop – you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.

“S-sorry… I'm so sorry…” He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.

“Baby, please…” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. “I'm sorry… just stop cryin’, please…”

Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a ‘please’. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying ‘stop’. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.

“Fuck, baby… please stop begging.” He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.

“I-I can't stop…you feel so… fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.” He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.

“L-Leon… please.” You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. “Y-you gotta pull out, you can't… you can't.”

“What?” He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. “Baby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.”

That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.

“Shit, baby. Don't look at me like that.” Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. “No need to be so scared, princess. I just… shit. Can't help myself.”

Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.

He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.

“I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.

When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #tw dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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disastertriowriting · 10 months

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Aaaand behold our fill for the square "Force Sensitivity". :D

Anakin had not expected to be literally jumped when he went to check on Echo to see how he was settling in. He definitely had not expected the secret that the Bad Batch have been harboring. But he thinks he handles it remarkably well, considering that he's turning into a vampire, too, now. Being a vampire is actually kind of fun, though.

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garfunklefield · 1 month

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hiii ^^ can u write ab how perverted each JJK man is? plz plz plz includ choso!!!!! i luv my little bbg

Dirty Little Pervert!

HOW PERVERTED ARE THEY?

[Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, and Toji]

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/JJK MEN Warnings: established relationship, fem!dom!reader [Gojo], sub!Gojo, anal fingering, dumbification, public sex, dub-con, exhibitionism, slave play, pet/master, hair pulling, degradation, spanking/flogging, bratty!reader [Nanami], brat taming, dacryphilia, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, sex toys, Choso's is really sweet, hunter/prey, consensual non-consensual [Toji] breeding kink, biting, blood play [blood drinking] Word count: 1941 DESC: How perverted are each JJK man on a scale from 1 to 5?

I actually had so much fun with this! I've never done a multi-fic before I'd love to do more!

This is not my most well written fic but hey it's something!

Satoru Gojo: ★★✩✩✩ Submissive/Dominant

Satoru Gojo was the most pathetic man you had ever been with. You had never heard a man cry and whimper more than him, which was strange because when you first met him you had him completely wrong. From the way he acted and from how he presented himself, you pegged him for a dominant guy who liked to fuck submissive girls. You initially thought it would be a problem, being a dom yourself. So it surprised you when you heard him casually admit to being a sub.

“I like a real dominant woman. Someone who can fuck my smug attitude outta me.” That was all he needed to say. Because soon that’s exactly what you did.

You just used your fingers, pumping them in and out of his tight little hole. He was already so sensitive that’s all he needed to become a slobbering and filthy mess. You watched as the boy you knew as cocky and conceded fall apart, whimpering and crying out that he wanted more.

“You like that slut?” You smirked, arching your fingers to touch his sensitive prostate. Satoru moaned, nodding his head against the bed. Both of his hands were gripping the sheets and his back arched as he felt a wave of pleasure shoot through his cock. He’d already cum several times, writhing around in it. But he still wanted more. And not to mention, you wouldn’t let him leave until you milked him completely and utterly dry.

“M-mommy.. Please.. F-f.. mmm… shit.. Mm-fuck.. Fuck.. fuck me… p-please!” He sobbed into the cushion, jerking his hips to the sensation. It wasn’t long before he felt it get too intense and he spilled out again onto the bed, screaming out with pleasure. He threw his head up and arched even more that he possibly could. All from your plush little fingers. You hadn’t even begun to stroke his cock or fondle his balls and he was completely and utterly gone. He was in a haze, fucked dumb from your digits.

“More…” he rasped, looking over at you with his tongue sticking out, “I want… more..”

Suguru Geto: ★★★★✩ Exhibitionist and slave play

Suguru wasn’t one for hiding his perverted nature. You shouldn’t have been surprised when you both came home from a late day at the office and he was beginning to pull down your pencil skirt. One hand pulled at the hem while the other used little force to push you stomach-first against the hood of his car. You let out a breathy gasp and turned back to him, trying to see what exactly he was doing.

“Suguru?” You asked, trying to get an idea as to what was about to happen. You didn’t want to admit but you were already soaking wet. You knew with the nature of your relationship he didn’t need to ask, if your master wanted to fuck you you knew to oblige. No matter where you two were.

He pressed his raging boner against your ass and let that speak volumes. He hadn’t been able to concentrate without thinking about fucking you in public. He wanted everyone to hear you moan that he was yours and no one could ever fuck you like that. He wanted you to cry and choke on his cum as he pounded into from the back. Suguru wanted everyone to know who owned you.

Your skirt came off and fell down to your ankles, revealing your underwear. He inhaled sharply and pulled his cock out from his slacks, letting it hit your fat ass with a small noise. It was within seconds that he was inside you. You gasped and arched your back, feeling one of his hands on the small of your back and the other grabbing your hair, pulling you back to him.

“You like that, huh? Whore? Little pathetic slut?” Suguru spat in your ear, making your pussy throb in between your legs. You were the most self-respectable girl, never letting anything get to you. But in your sex life… you were a different person. You were a total slut for your husband, doing anything and everything to please him.

Kento Nanami: ★★★✩✩ Spanking and Brat taming

Kento wasn’t a very perverted guy at all, he’d only ever really think about that stuff when he was with you. You never pegged him for the guy who was into going to fetish bars or doing ACID on a Tuesday night, and you were right. However, you didn’t account for the fact he had his own kinks and ways of pleasuring himself. He never admitted but he enjoyed his fair share of BDSM, only with the right person of course. When you came in, with your bratty nature and your big innocent eyes… he wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to cum on your tits and force you to lick it off or give you a piece of his mind after a long day of work, fucking into you with no care for your own personal boundaries at all. But… he restrained himself enough to limit his kinks to a select few things.

So you found yourself, bent over on his lap with a flogger in his hand, while his other lifted up your pink skirt. Of course, you didn’t wear underwear. He had gotten used to the fact you were the pervert in this relationship, doing everything to get a rise out of him. And it worked. You had been able to make him so sexually frustrated it was pissing him off. He needed to tame you and make you bend to his will over and over, and over again.

Of course, it would only make you behave for about a week before you started to test his patience again, and then the cycle would repeat. And god he loved it.

“Okay dirty girl,” he spoke gently, “Remember if you stop counting I start over,” and with one fell swoop the flogger smacked your ass. You let out a whimper and threw your head back, counting the first number.

After a few more spanks from the flogger you hazily looked over at him, drool pooling on your bottom lip and dripping onto the floor, “I.. mm.. I forgot… my place,” you let out a hiss as Kento frowned and raised his hand, slapping your ass with enough force to make you cry out. “Mm! I’m sorry!” You let out a sob before he smacked it again, “D-daddy Mm.. mm sorry!”

“You’re going to show me how sorry you really are, okay?” He raised an eyebrow as you, looking you over as your body shook. You didn’t realize it but he was so incredibly hard it was becoming painful for him.

Choso Kamo: ★✩✩✩✩ Mutual masturbation

Choso actually isn’t that much of a pervert! Choso had never found himself interested in BDSM or crazy sex. He preferred the romantic aspect of a relationship over the sexual, which he was very glad you did too. There was nothing he really wanted to try or had a desire to do. All he really wanted was to be close to you in any way possible. So maybe there was one thing. He wanted to see how you pleasured yourself when you were all alone. He wanted to see how you touched yourself to the thought of him, and he wanted to show you how he touched himself to you.

When he suggested the idea you thought it was really sweet and agreed. It made him happy to think you wanted to be as close to him as he wanted to be with you. You watched as your boyfriend shyly peered over at your exposed pussy, glistening just for him. You placed your small vibrator over your clit, letting out a faint sigh at the new sensation. Just watching you begin to please yourself made a small jolt of electricity travel through his cock.

“Baby…” You cooed, motioning for him to lay beside you. Choso nodded and laid back, resting his head against your shoulder, “You wanna touch yourself too?”

“Mmhm…” He nodded, looking down at his growing erection. It took a few seconds before he was freed from his pants and sopping wet from his precum. He shyly placed his hand around his shaft and stroked upwards, before focussing on his tip. You watched him with a curious expression, slowly rubbing circles around your clit with your bullet vibrator. You let out a small moan as you watched him massage the slit on his tip, before going back to stroking his length again. All the while, his eyes were on you. Your face and the cute expressions you were making.

This felt more intimate than sex. A way to be close to one another without truly touching each other. Even though he longed desperately to touch some part of you, that’s why he was leaning his side against yours. Your warmth and your smell were so comforting, it was all he needed to masturbate near you. He really, really loved you.

Toji Zenin: ★★★★★★ Hunter/prey and CNC

Toji wins. Toji fucking wins. He’s the most perverted man you’ve ever met. The first thing he asked you when you walked up to him at that bar was your bra size, and that same night he was taking it off with one hand. Your relationship was purely sexual from the moment it began and you both loved it. You would do any kink or any weird thing he suggested, as he would for you. As long as it meant he got to breed your pretty pussy in the end.

Today you both had decided on something… out of the norm. It was dead of night, maybe 3 AM? And you were in a lovely wooded area, running for your life. Behind you, you heard something chasing after you. Maybe it was a beast, maybe it was a man, you couldn’t tell. Toji was supposed to be chasing you, but it had been so long since you had seen him that you weren’t sure what was behind you anymore. You looked down at your surroundings but it was pitch black, the only thing you could see were a few branches in front of you. You still saw them yet you tripped.

You fell face-first into a pile of leaves, scrambling when you heard… growling. A large hand grabbed your shirt and you gasped, struggling against it. You could barely see, you didn’t realize he had leaned down and began to bite you. You let out a cry, “Agh! S-stop!” You continued to struggle, whimpering when the man behind you broke skin and started to suck on the blood seeping from your neck.

“Pretty thing. Shame… M’ gonna fuck you so good,” Toji whispered, throwing you back into the ground. He was giving you a chance to run, to escape. But you didn’t want to. It was so fun to role play, to pretend you were in any real danger. You knew even though your relationship was sexual he’d kill for you and your tight pussy.

“Please…” You cried as you felt your pants rip from the top down, exposing your ass, “Leave me alone…” You buried your head into the leaves, a large hand grabbing your hair and pulling you up.

“I said I’m gonna fuck you good. Now stay quiet you fucking brat,” Toji pushed you down, making you squeal in pain as he slapped your ass a few times. Your skin stung and you knew this was just the beginning of a long sexual experience with your lovely sneaky link, Toji.

#gojou satoru x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #choso kamo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #x reader smut #x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #garfunklefield writing

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fanfictasia · 1 year

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Lifeblood - Chapter 4 - They Gon' Be High With Me - Wattpad

Lifeblood Chapter 4 - They Gon' Be High With Me, a star wars: the bad batch fanfic | FanFiction

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ancuninfiles · 2 months

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Bite Night

Gif by @astarionposting

18+ MDNI - M/F - Astarion x Tav (Baldur's Gate 3) - Words: 3.6K

Tags: smut, somnophilia (if you squint), non-consensual vampire bites, blood drinking, enthusiastic consent (sex), vaginal fingering, P in v, creampie, mating press, outdoor sex, soft Astarion, sorcerer Tav, nondescript Tav, Aftercare, idealized version of events, no beta we die like cazador

Summary: It has been 3 days since the nautiloid crash. Tav may be the sweetest person that Astarion has ever met. Night falls, and he is overcome with intense feelings of hunger. Tav sleeps alone, peacefully by the fire. He can hear her pulse from the treeline, and it invites him in. Or... could it be more than her pulse inviting him in?

Sorry, Idk how to write summaries. :,)

Read on AO3

Astarion had never met someone like Tav. She was so kind to him, despite their first meeting beginning with him holding a dagger to her throat after having tricked her into thinking he needed help. It was interesting to note that in retrospect, Tav being a sorcerer, could have easily used Shocking Grasp on him while he held her, pinned beneath his blade. She, instead, was oddly compliant.

__________

“I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod.” Astarion cooed

Tav looked up at him with eyes half-closed and eyebrows knitted together, nodding. A look he could only assume was partially caused by the sun beating down on her face. It was as if she completely surrendered to him, going practically limp in his arms, which made him soften his grip slightly.

“Splendid, and now you're going to tell me what you and those tentacle freaks did to me.” he peered down at her, eyes briefly flicking to her neck and then up to her eyes again. Despite her relaxed form, her pulse was quickened and it was distracting. Astarion's mouth started to water slightly.

“I- I didn't do anything… I was abducted, same as you!” She pleaded.

“Don't lie to me. I- AUGH” Astarion yelped, as a purple aura surrounded both him and Tav. Their minds were suddenly connected, he was able to peer into her thoughts and feel what she was feeling.

To his surprise, her mind had been focused on compassion towards him, the man holding a blade to her throat. “He and I have the same problem. These tadpoles. And he is likely reeling after all this. He could be a good ally to have.”

Astarion's mind had then shared broken pieces of his past with Tav. Pieces that he would have rather kept to himself, but nothing incriminating yet. “What was that!? What's going on!?” He raised his voice.

Tav's was panting as if their minds connecting had worn her out. “You saw into my mind, it was the parasites! They connected us.” She said, with her eyebrows still knitted. Her mouth was agape and she took one last big breath before calming her expression.

Her breath smelled of mint, and her hair smelled like lavender. ‘Gods, her scent, her pulse, her expression. Everything is distracting about her.’ he thought to himself.

Although he would have loved to hold her for longer, grab her hair and sink his teeth into her flesh, he decided against it. Feeling confident that she was not a threat, he released her. They maintained eye contact with one another as they both slowly stood up.

‘She wants to be my ally’ he thought to himself.

__________

They had picked up a couple more allies on their misadventure so far. A cleric with an odd name and an annoying wizard who talks too much. Tav seemed naive. She was picking up strays left and right. Were these others to be trusted?

Tav had a way of making everyone feel accepted and comfortable. “If you need anything, please let me know. I don't care if I'm sleeping, reading, or otherwise busy, you can wake me up. I want to help.” she exclaimed to the whole group with an earnest look in her eye. She made sure to look at everyone in their eyes when she said this.

‘Gods, she couldn't be more sweet. So tempting.’ He thought to himself. He wondered if she would taste as sweet as she acted, but no, he had to stop thinking things like that. Even Tav would surely end him if he were to slightly hint at the fact that he was a monster.

Besides, Cazador would most definitely flay him for drinking the blood of a thinking creature. Although, the parasite had granted him immunity from the sun. Maybe Cazador can't control him at all anymore.

__________

It was time to settle in for the night. They had an exhausting day looking for a healer, which they had to fight through a hoard of goblins to get to. It had been 3 nights since the nautiloid crash, and Astarion had already snuck off the previous night to find a boar, which he stupidly left in the middle of the road. Tav and the cleric had fixated on it. The cleric had pointed out that the boar had been left fully intact but without blood. To Astarion's dismay, these stangers were smarter than he initially had thought.

Tav was so exhausted that she had fallen asleep beside the fire, while everyone else left to their tents. She was a powerful ally indeed. Tav and Astarion carried the team, while the wizard was frequently coming within an inch of death and you would have thought the cleric was blind because she missed almost every shot. 'Leave it to Gale to cover the ground in grease and then slip in it and fall prone, himself', Astarion thought.

While everyone was sleeping, Astarion slipped away into a clearing in the woods to have some privacy and decompress after all that's happened, for the first time since the nautiloid crash. Finally able to be alone with his thoughts, Astarion's memories of his master plagued him. It was as if he were there, reciting his rules.

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

Second, thou shalt obey me in all things.

Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.

Four, thou shalt know that thou art mine.

'Terrifying. So much for being alone with one's thoughts' Astarion thought. He left the clearing in distress, feeling like he was being stalked by Cazador. 'He can't control me anymore, I can walk in the sun...' Astarion told himself, in an effort to calm himself down. A burning feeling climbed up his throat. He was starving. Exerting himself more than usual was likely to blame. He had to find something to eat, soon.

__________

Astarion made his way back to camp, stopping at the tree line to assess the state of the camp. Sweet Tav was still sleeping soundly by the fire. Sweet Tav's words replayed in his head. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I don't care if I am sleeping". Sweet Tav who had shown him compassion almost immediately after he had pulled a dagger to her throat. Sweet Tav whose breath was minty, whose hair smelled of lavender, and whose pulse sounded so beautiful; hypnotic.

Astarion snuck close enough to Tav to see her throat, so beautifully exposed. An easy target. Tav was wearing nothing but a thin silky nightgown with small flimsy straps. Her supple legs were exposed and glistened in the firelight. The wind blew and her scent wafted into Astarion's face.

This was too much for Astarion to bear any longer. He slowly and stealthily climbed atop Tav, making sure not to wake her. He held his breath, he didn't need to breathe anyway. She was lying on her back, so Astarion slotted his leg between her thighs and placed his left elbow on the ground beside her head. He used his right hand to tilt her chin to the side slowly and gently brush her hair away from her pulse point. 'Formalities' he thought. Astarion slowly lowered his open maw onto Tav's throat. Finally puncturing the skin, blood started flowing into his mouth as he latched on almost like a feral animal. Tav's blood was ambrosia, it tasted like nothing he had ever tasted before. It was sweet, but complex like a fine-aged wine.

He could no longer control himself, he was sure to wake her. He tightly grabbed onto Tav's hair with his right fist and pushed her neck into his lips. It was then that he heard a sweet mewl coming from Tav. 'Of course, she would be moaning when a monster is consuming her.' Astarion groaned into her neck and brought his knee flush up to Tav's core. Tav began to writhe beneath him, arching her back and slowly bucking her hips on his knee. She was enjoying this. A desire started building in Astarion's lower abdomen, causing his cock to strain against his pants.

Astarion continued to take generous gulps of Tav's blood, running his tongue across her pulse point to try and force more blood out, faster. He let loose a primal groan into Tav's throat and then repositioned himself so that his clothed cock was pressing into Tav's exposed cunt. She accommodated Astarion and wrapped her legs around his pelvis with tact and enthusiasm. Tav reached her right hand up to Astarion's curls, but Astarion grabbed her wrist and pinned it beside her head. Tav moaned, but her rutting became slower, as did her pulse.

"Astarion - I" Tav whispered. Astarion finally came to and unlatched his teeth. His brows knitted together as he licked, and pressed his tongue firmly against her wound to soothe Tav and congeal the blood. He placed a chaste kiss on her neck, and then slowly started releasing her wrist, but Tav let out a breathy whine into his ear and grabbed his left hand, lacing her fingers with his. Perplexed, he looked up at Tav with round eyes. She was gazing at their laced hands. Astarion eyed her fresh puncture marks to make sure the bleeding had seized, and then gently tilted her head to face him.

Her eyes were wet and filled with lust. Her chest was heaving, her cheeks were flushed, and her pupils were blown out. "Why did you stop?" Her voice came out breathy, almost a whisper.

Astarion smirked, "Oh, you sweet, generous thing."

Tav's left hand came up to touch Astarion's face in a gentle caress while her right hand was still affectionately connected with his left. She eyed his lips, taking in the blood on his chin and swiping it softly with her thumb. Her eyes fluttered back up to meet his gaze, but he was eyeing her lips as she had his.

Tav's lips were the same colour as her blushing cheeks. They were seductively parted. Astarion's gaze shifted back to Tav's eyes again, as she caressed his face with her thumb. Such a gentle little thing, and after what he had just done to her. He ought to feel shame for taking from her. 'She is so beautiful' he thought. The firelight flickered in her wet, sleepy eyes. Her hair was gorgeously spread amongst her bedroll. She was like an angel, no, a goddess. It was hard to believe she was real, or that someone could even forgive him for what he had done to her, let alone want him to continue. He looked at her with concern in his eyes which were becoming wet themselves.

Tav's hand slithered shakily to the nape of Astarion's neck. "I want you if you'll have me." She smiled earnestly, her eyes curled with her smile like tiny rainbows. She caressed his nape as she did his chin. "Please, Astarion." She sang

His name sounded like a melody on her lips. She was a siren, pulling him in with her song. Pulling him in, to drown in her. Their lips crashed like the waves in the Sea of Fallen Stars. They moaned into each other as their tongues danced around one another's teeth, exploring, and tasting. Astarion didn't want to stop until he had tasted every corner of her maw. Their kiss was bruising and sloppy. Tav made advances with her tongue as well, and she opened her mouth wide enough to let Astarion explore deeply. Her mouth tasted as minty as it smelled, and his mouth tasted like her blood. He paid extra mind to not hurt her with his fangs.

One of her hands tangled in his hair and the other hand rested on his back. He pressed his pelvis closer to her's and he groped her soft flesh with one of his hands, hastily exploring her body and reaching under her nightgown to grab her breast. He pinched her nipple and rubbed it between his fingers. Tav let out a higher-pitched moan in his mouth. He snaked his hands down to her exposed and throbbing core. She was unbelievably soaked. Finally lifting his mouth from hers, he looks at her with a smirk and says "You are positively dripping for me, darling." He started rubbing slow circles on her clit and her back arched, seeking more from Astarion.

She groaned. "I want you inside me, please." Her eyes pleading and her words drifted out in a soft sigh. She was squirming slowly and weakly. The poor thing was so weak from the blood loss.

He peered down at her face which seemed to be blushing more and more, and her skin was now glistening with a thin layer of sweat. "Only because you ask so sweetly." He exclaimed before plunging two digits inside of her, working her open. She hummed in a whiney tone, which only egged him on further. His fingers curled up as he patiently started getting her hole ready for his cock. Her mouth opened and her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. She was the most enchanting creature in all of Faerün. He wanted to do anything for her, and he wanted to bury his cock entirely between her legs.

His free hand pushed her nightgown above her breasts, exposing her naked and writing body to the night air. It hadn't occurred to him until then that they were in the middle of camp. The cleric and the wizard could catch them, but Tav seemed unbothered. Astarion had noticed that his senses were much sharper after drinking Tav's blood. He realized he was confident enough that he would hear anyone coming long before they could see anything.

His fingers started to pump into her faster, and he palmed her clit. Her breathing became heavy and jagged. "I'm so close! Astarion!" She moaned his name as her pussy fluttered around his digits. He fingered her through her orgasm, only pulling away when she started to twitch at the touch of her clit. She inhaled deeply and let out a groan. Her head fell back and her breasts rose and fell with each exasperated breath. "Hmm, you are wonderful, Astarion." She hummed with a bright smile on her face.

Astarion crept up to meet her eyes with his, "You're unbelievably beautiful." He said sincerely. She looked up at him with her pleading eyes again. He brushed her hair with his fingers and admired her features. He brought her into a molten kiss that both burned and bruised their lips. His hand caressed her naked torso, gripping her in every place he could before landing his strong grasp on her ass. Their kiss flew apart and she let out an exceptionally whiney moan and looked down to where his clothed cock was.

His cock was beginning to strain unbearably against his pants. He expertly unlaced his trousers and his large member sprang free, glistening with precum. He glanced down at her soaking core, her thighs were covered in her cum. He hooked her knees over his biceps and he teased her entrance with his cock. He groaned and exhaled, and looked at her face so he could read her expressions. Her brows scrunched in anticipation.

"Hmmm please fuck me. I want you to fill me up so bad." she sobbed and clenched her jaw.

Astarion groaned "I love it when you plead for me, little love. Your voice sounds so sweet. Please tell me if you want me to stop, can you do that for me?"

She bit her lip and looked him in the eye, again with that sweet look on her face. "Mmhm" she nodded.

He didn't need any more confirmation from her as he slowly sunk his cock into her hole. Her mouth opened slightly and she started breathing heavier. He pulled out all the way and stroked her wetness onto his shaft. He sunk back down into her languidly until he finally was fully inside. He grunted at the feeling, and she was breathing heavier than ever. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wet.

"Are you okay, sweet love?" He said with concern as he stilled inside her.

"Mmm yeah. You're just - so big, I've never had someone -reach into me so deeply. It doesn't - hurt, I promise" she spoke softly. Panting throughout her sentence. "It feels, so good" she whined.

His cock twitched at her enthusiasm and she moaned quietly. "Oh darling, I am going to fill you right up," he said as he pulled back and then snapped his hips into her. He leaned down to her and stroked her cheek as he kissed her jaw. "Precious." He whispered in her ear.

He began rutting into her at a consistent pace. She pulled his shirt up to feel more of his skin against hers. She was so warm compared to him, her aura engulfed him like the fire they lay next to, consuming the carbon in a flickering rage. She was so tight, and warm, and wet. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to last, but he knew he wanted to make her cum one more time before he finished.

He reached down to her clit, and started rubbing tight quick circles. She moaned between her teeth and the muscles in her legs tensed. Her mouth fell agape and she started panting beautifully. "That's it, good girl. Cum on my cock."

His words were enough to send her over the edge, and her cunt clenched and fluttered around his cock. He fucked her through her orgasm, only stopping his attention on her nub when she was pulling away. He readjusted her legs atop his shoulders, and her knees were practically beside her head. He was able to reach deeper in her than before, and his cock was hitting her sweet spot at a perfect angle.

"Do you want me to fill you with my cum, darling? Is that what you want?" He teased as he fucked her mercilessly.

"Yes!" She begged, "Please, I need you to fuck your cum into me!"

Her lewd suggestion sent him toppling over into his own climax, and he pressed himself deeply into her folded form. Groaning as his head fell to her side, he placed chaste kisses on her neck where he had bitten earlier. She could feel his cock twitching deep inside her, his spend spurting on her walls and dripping down her ass. He pulled out a few inches and then slammed back into her again, stuffing his cock into her deepest depths, making sure that her desires are met and that his seed has thoroughly coated every corner of her tight, quivering hole.

They stayed connected for many long moments and then eventually they both rolled over to lie on their sides, facing one another. They stared deeply into each other's eyes. Astarion pulled his pants back up, and Tav lay sleepily with her flesh still exposed. "This won't do." He said as he scooped her up with his arms.

"Oh!" She squeaked, as Astarion carried her bridal style to his tent.

He lay Tav down on his bedroll. "One moment, love, I will be right back!" He said with newfound energy.

Astarion searched for one of the most soft fabrics that he had kept for future sewing projects. He found the silky red cloth and he soaked it with water from the river. It was cold, but it will have to do. He made long strides back to his tent to find Tav, who was almost sleeping.

"This is going to be a bit cold, little bird." He cooed. He then ran the damp cloth along her most vulnerable parts. She hummed sleepily and smiled as he slowly cleaned her up with seemingly the highest degree of care. He then took the same cloth and cleaned himself up briefly.

The night was warm, but Tav, being alive, was more susceptible to the temperature. He only had his brown boyish blanket in his tent, so he quickly went to Tav's tent and snagged all of her pillows and blankets to bring them back to her in his tent. She was like a sleepy doll. He propped her head up on the softest pillow and covered her body in the warmest blankets. She sleepily hummed with glee, and Astarion looked at her snuggled up in the blankets, admiring his handiwork.

He changed into a fresh set of night clothes and then joined her under the blankets. He faced her and affectionately brushed his fingers across her cheek and under her ear. His palm rested on her cheek and his thumb stroked her cheekbone. He would speak to her about all this in the morning, and apologize for feasting upon her like a ravenous beast; but for now, she was in his arms and he felt an unyielding desire to take care of her. She nuzzled into him and kissed his hand. He leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. She turned around so her backside was facing him. She scooted back to connect with him. His touch was soothing and cool against her under the warm blanket. He froze for a moment at the overwhelming affection, and then he fell into her and held her tight.

He didn't know exactly what these feelings were, but he knew that this was nice.

They both closed their eyes, and Tav fell into a deep sleep. Astarion began to trance. He didn't know it yet, but this would be the best trance he would have in 200 years.

Author notes:

HEY. Thanks for reading if you made it this far. I actually haven't really ever written anything before, and I don't plan on writing anymore. It took a really long time, and it was way harder for me than I thought. The number of times I had to look at synonyms. Ffs... lol. But YEAH. I actually don't have much of an interest in writing anyways so it's all good. Srsly kudos to any of you who are writing fics, especially the lengthy ones. I have no idea how you do it. Every paragraph is a brain fart for me. Please don't mind any mistakes. I used grammarly, and I TRIED MY BEST LOL. ANYWAYS, LOVE YOU, SMOOCHIES.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion pov #astarion fluff

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bucketsofmonsters · 8 months

Text

Without Expectation

You know how everyone is talking about how Astarion has a difficult relationship with hero characters bc he felt abandoned by them when he was suffering? What if, during his 200 years of imprisonment, he’d met one? Very much inspired by this post

cw: pre-game astarion, Cazador, prostitution and non-consensual sex alluded to but never shown, healing from trauma, Astarion being sexualized, Astarion sexualizing himself, objectification, blood drinking, he’s kind of sexually aggressive in this but it's just because he’s scared and he doesn’t know anything else, reader is from a group of monster hunters that I made up who have been harassing Cazador, they are separate from any in-game monster hunters who are less Astarion friendly

Astarion x gn reader

Word count: 6k

He was charming. Pretty words, perfect hair, a dashing smile, and hollow eyes.

The second Cazador had said the word, he was all over you.

You couldn’t turn down the offer. Not for the promise of pleasure, that was the last thing on your mind looking at him.

But if you got him alone you could talk to him, outside of the watchful eye of his master.

He had you pinned to the wall of your bedroom before you could even say a word. You had to shove him back and he stumbled, a frightened, hurt look crossing his face before the practiced charm slipped easily back.

“Oh, you like to play rough, do you? That’s fine with me, I don’t mind being pushed around a little.”

“Stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, can I just speak for a second?”

“Say whatever you’d like, darling.”

“Listen… Astarion, wasn’t it?”

He smirked at you. “It is, but you can call me whatever you'd like.”

“Astarion, you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I don’t. I want to. Don’t you want me?” He moved to get into your space again but you stepped back and he didn’t follow.

You did your best to push past his flirtation. “How often does he make you do things like this?”

“Like this? Not often. My lovers don’t typically live to see the morning. Although I suppose it doesn’t make much difference to me,” he said with a laugh, one that felt practiced and put on.

“Oh.” You couldn’t imagine it, being forced to not only be with so many people but to send them off to their deaths night after night.

Your eyes drifted down as your thoughts spiraled and he grabbed your chin, pulling your face up so your eyes met once more, directing all your attention back to him. “Is that what’s bothering you, darling? I promise Cazador has given me very clear instructions on how well you should be treated.”

“No, that’s not the problem.” You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to figure out what to do. “God, this is such a nightmare. Listen, I can sleep on the couch, you should take the bed,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the loveseat tucked in the corner of the room.

“Come now, that’s not necessary my dear,” he practically purred at you.

You felt a little more nauseous with every pass he made at you. “You really don’t have to do that, I swear. Not in here at least. It would probably be prudent to pretend in front of Cazador but that’s an issue for tomorrow.”

“Even if you don’t want sex,” he said with a little roll of his eyes. “The couch is not necessary. I promise I won’t bite.”

It was a bad idea. You knew that much. But the bed looked so soft and comfortable and the couch wasn’t even long enough to fit all of you if you tried to lie down.

You sat on the bed tentatively and sunk into the mattress. It was by far the most comfortable bed you’d ever been in and you ran your hand along the silky sheets. “Alright, but we’ll just be sleeping,” you said with a pointed look in his direction.

In a heartbeat, you were pushed back onto the mattress and he was looking over you, his hands on either side of your head as he grinned down at you. “Are you certain, my dear? I could make you feel so good.”

“I’m sure you could,” you said with a smile, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes lit up at the contact and it was clear that he thought he’d done it, that he'd won you over. “But that won’t be necessary.”

You leaned up and pressed a kiss into his forehead before gently pushing him off of you back towards his side of the bed.

He seemed wounded and frightened by the gesture, a far cry from the practiced seduction you’ve seen from him so far. “You don’t want me.”

“I assure you that is not the problem,” you said, careful to keep your voice gentle.

He did not seem convinced, a tragic vulnerability starting to seep through his facade.

As he stared at you, a worried look plastered across his face, you grabbed some of the many pillows from the top of the bed, placing a few between the two of you.

He scoffed at the sight. “I don’t know what those are meant to stop. Not exactly impenetrable security against a rabid vampire.”

“They’re not for you. I have a tendency to get… grabby, in my sleep.”

He huffed, folding his arms as he finally conceded ground and laid down next to you. “Good. Maybe you’ll be more interesting than when you are awake.”

You doubted he’d find you snuggling a pillow particularly interesting but you let him interpret your words however he pleased.

“Perhaps. Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to sleep now.”

“It’s not all the same to me, thank you very much.”

“Alright,” you said with a yawn. “Goodnight.”

You woke up with your arms wrapped around a pillow from your little wall, holding it close to your chest as you eased your eyes open to see Astarion unabashedly staring at you.

He spoke as soon as he caught wind you were awake. “You weren’t kidding about being grabby, you’re practically smothering the poor thing.”

Your face warmed slightly at his words, embarrassment fluttering in your chest. “It’s an old habit. What about you, couldn’t sleep?”

“Elves don’t sleep.”

You suddenly felt incredibly foolish. “Oh. Right. So you’ve just been sitting there all night then?”

“I tranced for a while. It was certainly a more boring night than I expected.”

You yawned as you sat up, setting the pillow you’d been holding behind you. “Terribly sorry to disappoint. Hopefully, there will be many more boring nights in your future.”

He pulled back, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

You realized you hadn’t told him of your little scheme yet. “I was thinking. This whole meeting with Cazador was more of a formality than anything. He’s killed too many of our people, we need to make this deal, at least until we can figure out how to sort him out for good. But he doesn’t know that and maybe, if you’re amiable to it, I could throw in a final term to the deal. Where he has to give me… well, you. Not that you should be his to give, but I figure if I can save someone from this place and I didn’t, what kind of a monster would I be?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from me?”

You shrugged. “I’d say nothing if I thought you’d believe me. If you need to rationalize it, let’s just say it’s an ego boost. Now I get to feel like a good person and you get to leave this place. As long as I don’t mess it up too badly.”

Mistrust was written across his face and it seemed like the first completely honest emotion you’d been able to pull from him.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine, we can fix that after I get you out of here.” You sighed. “Wish me luck. I’m an awful liar.”

He trailed after you as you left, seemingly incapable of letting you out of his sight.

Maybe he was. Maybe he’d been ordered to do so. You had no way to tell. It made your heart hurt, the sight of him here, the idea of Cazador’s other spawn that you couldn’t save. At least not yet.

He followed you like a loyal pup all the way to Cazador, who was lounging in a chair without a care in the world.

He chuckled at the sight of Astarion behind you. “And how was my spawn? To your satisfaction?”

You swallowed down that bile that rose in you as you said, “He was a delight. I was wondering, in the name of our agreement, is there any way I could keep him? It’s just that I’ve grown quite fond of him so very quickly.”

Cazador laughed, a putrid, callous thing. “I’m sure. He can be quite… convincing. And this would make you amenable to my terms?”

You nodded. “All the monster hunters in Baldur's Gate will focus their attention in… other places. You and yours will be entirely safe from our wrath.”

“And if we’d like to push you in the direction of another creature?”

You gave him a tactful nod. “We could be convinced.”

“Good.” He laughed once more. “Typical monster hunter. You pretend to hate us and yet you want to keep a vampire pet.”

Astarion leaned into your side and you felt a little queasy at the performance as you snaked your arm around him. “Like I said, he was very convincing.”

He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. As you wish, you shall have your terms. Just tell me if he doesn’t behave. I can get him sorted right out for you.”

It took everything you had not to lunge at him thinking about everything he’d put this poor man through. “Of course, but I’m sure I’ll be able to manage just fine on my own.”

You got out of there as fast as you could. Even if you hadn’t had Astarion with you, you didn’t want to spend any longer than absolutely necessary with the monster.

You pulled him through the streets back to the house you were staying in, racing against the sun. You barely had enough time to get him there and pull him inside, but you had a feeling he’d prefer this mad dash over staying another day with his master.

Regardless, the whole time your eyes were darting around, looking for places you could hide him should you need to.

You wondered what you’d even do if it had come to that. Just sit with him for the rest of the day, you supposed, unless he wanted to try a risky maneuver with a thick blanket.

You tried to pull him inside but it was like an invisible wall had stopped him in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look and he grumbled, “You have to invite me.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, come in!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he rushed in beside you and you set yourself to making sure all of the widows were fully shut, pulling the curtains tight.

He watched you dart about, tugging at the thick fabric. His gaze was judgemental but at least the emotion seemed genuine.

As soon as you were mostly certain he wouldn’t burn to death, you turned to him. “We won’t be leaving for a while so you can make yourself at home. If you need anything just let me know, okay?”

You didn’t see him for the whole day. You were busy and he made himself scarce. You couldn’t blame him. You imagined he’d long since made it a habit to avoid being seen by anyone. Anyone except his forced prey, you supposed. But still, he hid away from them, in his own way.

“Astarion, can you come look at this?” you called out as the sun finally dipped fully below the horizon, hoping he was close enough that he could hear you. And hoping he would come even if he did.

It took a few minutes but eventually he came sauntering down the stairs.

“Yes, my dear?”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the window, gesturing out at the carriage that was illuminated by torches alone, shrouded in the thick darkness of the night. “Do you think it’ll be alright? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

He stared out at the carriage you’d spent hours painstakingly attempting to make impenetrable to light. You’d painted the windows black, hung blankets over top of them, shoved old linens in the cracks in the doors.

He cautiously headed outside, staring at the carriage with furrowed brows. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, I tested it during the day. It seemed pretty solid but obviously you couldn’t check then. I could bring a torch around the outside if you wanted to check for yourself.”

He looked at you like you were mad. “We could have just traveled at night.”

You shrugged. “It’s a two-day journey and I didn’t want to depend on inns and shelter along the road to protect you during the day. This seemed safer.”

He opened the door, sitting inside and looking around at the painstakingly covered windows and cracks, and you couldn’t tell if he seemed uncomfortable because he was worried about the sun or because of the sheer amount of effort you’d clearly put into it.

“Do you want anything for the ride?” you asked, pushing forward. “Some books or something? I could go get them for you.”

“Your company is all I could ask for.”

“Okay, but for real though. Never mind, I’ll just get you some books.” You doubted you’d be able to pull an honest answer from him for a very long time, if at all.

After a frenzied book run, the two of you were ready to head off, locking yourselves inside the carriage until the sun set once more.

The bumps of the carriage jostled the two of you as you rode. The flickering orange light of two lanterns, one for each of you, barely illuminated the darkened space and you couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic.

He was sitting, staring at you, book untouched on his lap.

You’d brought as many options as you could think of, romance novels, epics, history, a horticultural book that had pulled a snort and an incredulous look from him when he’d seen it.

He didn’t seem much in the mood for reading and under his unblinking gaze, neither were you. Instead, you stared at the painted-over window, wishing there was anything else you had to look at in the dim light.

“Admiring your paint job?” he asked with a chuckle as you continued to refuse to meet his unblinking gaze.

“Something like that.” You decided to take the broken silence as an opportunity. Anything was better than being silently stared at and you weren’t sure you’d get a better chance to ask him. “Can I ask you something that’s potentially insensitive?”

He smirked at you with that practiced allure. “Ask away.”

“Were you one of his favorites? Cazador's, I mean.”

He scoffed. “In a way. He loved torturing me more than anyone else.”

You leaned forward. “So it might be easier to convince him to part with the others?”

His eyes narrowed at you and you watched as he tried once again to figure out what your angle was. “You’ve got a real bleeding heart, don’t you?”

“We’ve been unable to hurt him for so long, failed at it for years and years. Every day you were there was because we weren’t good enough at what we did. I can’t help it, I feel a little responsible for you. For all of you.”

“Oh please,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Like I’m not one of the monsters you hunt.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Why would you be? Who have you hurt?”

He laughed a cold, cruel laugh. “Darling, you have no idea how many people I’ve hurt.”

“You haven’t though. Cazador hurt people through you, sure. But you didn’t hurt anyone, not really. You’re a victim just as much as they were. At least we managed to save some of them.”

He squirmed in his seat. “I think they might disagree.”

You shrugged, something delicate in his eyes telling you not to push. “Maybe.”

The rest of the ride was completed in silence, not only fueled by your discomfort but now also Astarion’s irritation with you.

Your driver gave a knock on the door as the sun disappeared, just as you’d instructed him to, and you opened it to find a quaint little inn surrounded by woods in front of you.

He left to take care of the horses and you led Astarion inside, securing two rooms for the three of you. In a perfect world you would’ve gotten Astarion his own room, but his vampirism wasn’t exactly subtle and you couldn’t help but worry that some overzealous patron of this establishment might take it upon themself to rid the inn of the supposed monster.

You led him up to the room you’d be sharing and as you entered, he stood in the doorway and took in the sight.

You were quick to give him a quiet, “Come in,” but he brushed you off.

“That’s for houses, not individual rooms. I just…there’s two beds.”

You nodded. “Yup. For two people.”

He eyed you suspiciously, as if the two beds might be part of some devious scheme. After a few moments, he seemed to decide it was just a normal room and took the bed nearest the door.

He seemed paler than he’d been the night before and a horrible thought struck you. “Oh my god, you need to eat! I haven’t been feeding you.”

He chuckled. “Good luck with that, there aren’t many disposable animals out here. At least, not ones you could catch. Unless you want to let me at the horses, but that would leave us in quite the predicament.”

“I mean, you could drink from me. Not everything, obviously, but I could spare some.”

You held out your hand to him, presenting your wrist and looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not allowed to drink human blood,” he spat back at you, the bile of hundreds of years of resentment lacing his words. “Cazador doesn’t allow it.”

“You’re not his anymore. He gave control over to me and I say you can do whatever you’d like and that you don’t take orders from anyone anymore. The offer stands.” You went to withdraw your hand until his hunger bested his hesitation but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away.

“Well,” he said with a sly smile. “As long as you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn you down.”

It was so strange how quickly it happened, how easily he could slip right back into that faux confidence.

He leaned towards you and you backed away at the hungry look in his eyes, one you were more than familiar with.

“If you really want to I’m sure there’s ways we could make this a more rewarding experience for you,” he said and in a heartbeat he maneuvered himself over you, his hands interlaced with yours and holding you to the mattress.

You pulled yourself back in an instant, leaning against the headboard as you presented your wrist to him once more.

You didn’t fault him for it. After years of surviving with it, of course he would keep trying to draw you in with his sexuality. The instinct couldn’t be snuffed out overnight.

You’d bat away his attempts as many times you needed to, try and make him understand. You weren’t sure if it would ever work, not fully, but you’d keep trying.

“It’s easier this way,” you said in explanation, giving him something to latch onto that didn’t feel like rejection.

He rolled his eyes. “Easier, I’m sure. Typical, I got a master who’s allergic to fun.”

“I’m not your master. You can do as you please, could leave now if you wanted.”

“And go where?” he snapped. “You can pretend if you must but I know what I am. I know where I stand. I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.”

“I know.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes daring across your face before he pulled your wrist towards him, digging his teeth into your flesh.

The sharp pain lasted for a heartbeat before it faded away to a dull ache. He lapped at the open wound, his put-on demeanor disappearing as he got lost in it.

He cradled your hand like it was a lifeline. In a way, you supposed it was.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded as he fed but you refused to stop him. You would not command it of him, would rather die than force him into it. You let out a quiet whine, your form slumping back into the bed.

He drew away immediately and your blood began pouring onto the white sheets of the bed.

A moment of panic reflected in his red eyes before he grabbed the corner of the sheets, wrapping them around your wound.

“There,” he said, his voice quieter than his normal bravado. “Should keep you from bleeding out.”

Your eyes were locked on his collarbone, a dark bruise becoming visible as your blood fled through his previously starved body. The longer you looked, the more of them you could see, peeking out from under his clothes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said in hushed tones, hands moving to reach for him before stopping in their tracks, unsure if your touch would be wanted.

He was otherwise preoccupied, his eyes alight with something entirely new. He looked stronger, livelier. There was a warmth to his cheeks you’d never seen before.

You resisted the urge to touch him, to see if he’d become warmer as your blood had begun to run through him, bringing a new light to his eyes.

“You should get some rest,” he said, looking down at you lying exhausted and drained on the bed. “You certainly need it.”

You barely had time to laugh at his comment before you’d drifted off.

The ride back was as quiet as it had been the day before, if a little less uncomfortable. Astarion still stared for much of it but he at least pretended to read his book. The healthy flush to his cheeks seemed to come with a bit of newfound comfort and ease around you that made you puff up with pride, even if you still felt a little woozy from the night before.

“Here we are!” you said as a knock sounded on the door, opening it and leading him inside your home. It was an old manor of your family's, not particularly big, right on the edge of nowhere, and perhaps falling apart just a little but more than suitable for your purposes. “It’s a little bit of a mess but I kind of like it that way. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

You decided to put him in a room that was just a few doors down from your own, pointing out just where he could go to find you if he needed anything.

You laid down to sleep once you got him situated, more exhausted than you typically were at this time of night. Despite how tired you were, presumably from the blood loss, you had to fight the urge to go and check on Astarion just one more time.

You hadn’t known him for long but you’d already developed an intensely protective instinct towards the man.

You did your best to put him out of your mind when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” you called out. You made no attempt to suppress your smile when he peeked in the doorway.

“I think I’ve grown accustomed to your company,” he said sheepishly, and for once it didn’t seem like he was trying to seduce you. He seemed worn down, looking just as tired as you felt, a defeated air present on his face.

You were too tired for subtlety, opening your arm to him and muttering a sleepy, “Just come here.”

He seemed grateful to not have to explain himself. To not have to ask.

He sat on the bed, looking down at you where you lay.

“No pillow this time?” he asked in that snide voice he used so often.

“I can if you want. Just thought you might appreciate the closeness.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be your little pillow to hug. Fair warning though, I run cold.”

You tried and failed to suppress a yawn as he got into bed beside you and you wrapped your arms softly around him. “I don’t mind. G’night.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Just like that, it became a bit of unspoken habit between the two of you. You felt it might honestly kill him to comment on it, to ask you for affection. But with no words, no pleasantries, there he was every night, beside you.

One night, about a week into his residence in your home, he seemed more restless than normal, fiddling endlessly with your hand, incapable of sitting still. You turned to him with a pointed look. “Come on, out with it, it’s not good to go to bed with things left unsaid.”

He scoffed. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, what if I die in my sleep or something.”

“If you die in your sleep, I think I might have bigger problems than things I didn’t say to you. Namely, some monster hunters who might take issue with the vampire you died next to.”

You shook your head. “No, I already told them about you, they wouldn’t hurt you.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, pulling back a bit at your words. “You did?”

“Of course I did. Now come on, out with it, what’s going on it that head of yours?”

He sighed dramatically and flopped back on his pillow. “It’s really nothing.”

“Not if it's bothering you. I want to help.”

“Did you mean it?” he blurted out, like the words had to be forced out of him quickly or they wouldn’t come out at all. “When you said you wanted to save the rest of them too?”

“Of course I did. And I will. At least if I have anything to say about it,” you said quietly, your stomach turning at the thought of the other spawn you’d left behind.

He turned from you as if you’d slapped him. “Right. I’m going to sleep in my own room. I should’ve been in there anyway, this was silly. Goodnight, darling.”

You chased after him in a heartbeat, catching up at him before he’d even managed to open his door. “Wait, what did I do? Astarion?”

He was an unstoppable force, storming into his own room.

“I don’t understand what I did,” you pleaded with him, desperate to fix it. You raked through your conversation, trying to dissect every word spoken, every facial expression. You found nothing. Shouldn’t he be happy you wanted to help them? It didn’t make sense to you.

He sat on his bed, one he’d never slept in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. When he spoke, there was a faux casualty to it, like he was trying to pretend none of it mattered to him. “I’m just making room for the next stray you let into your bed.”

You sat next to him, careful to keep your distance as you moved your head down to try and catch his eye. “You know I’m not replacing you, right?”

He huffed in response, turning away from you again.

You made sure to keep your tone gentle and soft. “You know I wouldn’t let just any vampire spawn sleep next to me, right? It’s because I care about you, it’s not just because you’re there. No one is replacing you and I promise there is enough of me to help people while also still being there for you. I will save as many of them as I can until I can rid this world of Cazador but you’re not just Cazador’s victim, you’re my friend.”

He turned to you suddenly. “Stop saying that. Stop saying you’re going to hunt down Cazador. If he catches wind of any of this you’re dead. At least, if you’re lucky you’ll be dead. And then where will I be?”

“Hey, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing, we all know what we’re doing. He’s not going to get me.”

“That’s why you made that deal, is it? Did all the other hunters he slaughtered know what they were doing too? You aren’t a threat to him, you are a nuisance. You need to stop,” he snarled.

You couldn’t stop. You both knew that, could see it as clear as day.

Instead, you just said a quiet, “Come on, come to bed,” and walked out of the room.

He trailed behind you, the unendable argument weighing heavy on the both of you, no more words spoken as he slipped under the sheets. You gave his hand a squeeze, trying your best to reassure him despite knowing it would never work. Not as long as he was still out there.

And then, as he leaned into your space, head brushing against your arm, something he’d been getting slowly more comfortable doing, something occurred to you that should have many days ago, back when he’d first arrived here. It was strange that he was here, now. Not just because of his uncomfortability with any sort of nonsexual closeness, but because of when it was.

Not only did elves not sleep the same way nor as long as humans did, but vampires slept during the day typically, to enjoy the night as best they could.

“I’m going to start sleeping during the day,” you said decisively. “That way we can keep doing this,” you said as you gestured around vaguely, “and you can go out, can do things with your waking hours. I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me sooner.”

His eyes widened. “You’d really let me leave?”

His surprise felt like a shard of ice through your chest. “Of course I would. You can do whatever you want. I’ll even do my best to help if you’ll ask me for it.” Another horrible thought struck you. “Wait, you didn’t think you could leave and you’ve been with me most nights. What have you been eating?”

“Whatever I could find. I make for wonderful pest control.”

Your heart sank. You should’ve considered this sooner, never put him through any of this.

“Here, drink from me,” you said, sticking out your hand. “I can get some bigger animals for you, keep them here so you don’t have to hunt for them if you’d prefer, but for now I will have to do.”

He hesitated, although his gaze was less suspicious than the last time you’d done this. Instead, he looked nervous. “You’ve… you’ve already done so much for me. I shouldn’t.”

“Astarion, you’re starving,” you said quietly, trying to reason with him.

“I’d rather not push it. Eventually, even your charity will run out.”

You shook your head. “It will not. It’s fine if you don’t believe me, I know it’ll take time, but I will keep being here for you until it sinks in. Promise.”

He laughed quietly, seeming more for himself than for you, something that had been happening more and more lately. “You underestimate my distrust, I think I could outlast you.”

You smiled back. “Challenge accepted. But until then, you need to eat.”

You held out your wrist for him, the marks from the last time just beginning to fade. He took it, gingerly, bringing it slowly to his mouth and watching your face for any apprehension.

You showed none, instead giving him a soft smile. “Go on. I don’t bite.”

That got a real laugh out of him. “That’s not funny.”

He pressed a soft kiss into your skin before sinking his fangs in, that sharp pain coming with a flutter of warmth inside your chest.

He was slower this time, more intentional as he drank. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he wasn’t as hungry or if it was because it felt less like his meal might be ripped away from him unceremoniously.

He didn’t get as lost in it this time, eyes flicking up to meet yours, checking in on you.

You didn’t even get the chance to try and tell him you were feeling woozy before he drew back, pulling a handkerchief you hadn’t even noticed off the side table to wrap around your wrist.

“Wouldn’t want to get our sheets all bloody,” he said as he knotted it tight around your wound.

Your hands moved slowly as soon as he released them, reaching up towards his face and giving him plenty of time to back away.

For a moment, when he first saw you reaching for him, he pulled back and you were ready to retreat and shower him in endless apologies when, as suddenly as he’d moved away, he leaned into your touch.

Gentle hands cradled his face, ones he’d flinched away from but a moment before. He leaned into them openly now, unabashedly, making a home between your palms.

He was warmer like this, with your blood rushing through him.

You pulled him closer as his head tucked right under yours, your fingers carding gently through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, barely loud enough to reach his ears, and you had no idea if he believed you.

You doubted it, doubted that you’d been able to break through all those years of his living hell so quickly. His walls had been carefully constructed for a reason, and you understood why he was so hesitant to break them down. You couldn’t blame him, would never blame him.

It didn’t really matter. You’d keep trying either way.

#astarion #astarion x reader #vampire x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion needs a hug

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lace-coffin · 6 months

Text

Slasher kinks headcanons

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Minors DNI

Slashers x gender neutral! reader

Trigger warnings : consensual non consent (cnc), blood, degradation/humiliation, kidnapping? (Only for Asa)

Kinks: general rough sex, bdsm dynamics, daddy/mommy kink, humiliation/degradation, knife play, primal/prey & predator play, praise, sex whilst ovulating/on period, medical play, topping from the bottom, anal, face fucking, face slapping, spanking/punishment, breeding, knotting, hucow kink, phone sex, the list goes on

did anyone request this? No. Am I going to make u all look at it bc I’m a horndog? Absolutely

I will be writing a top/bottom section for every slasher! No gentials will be mentioned for reader (hole is used to be neutral) but strap/cock will be used in relation to the reader topping.

Michael will also have an extra t4t section for my friend bc there isn’t enough t4t Michael < 3

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas isn’t super experienced in sex before he meets you, infact you’re his first partner. Obviously he knows some of the ins and outs (pun intended) from his own teenage curiosity and hormones. He also might have stolen Atleast one of Hoyt’s porno magazines before now.

Tommy would become more confident in taking the lead once he knows what you like a little more, then he’d be ok trying other positions and bottoming sometimes. Stuff in the beginning might be pretty slow and steady but after you’ve been together a while it can get a lot more intense.

Definitely has a breeding kink, has a dream of having a big family with you and raising them on the farm to continue the Hewitt name. Something about seeing his seed leak from your abused and puffy hole makes him want to breed it into you harder. Tell him you want him to make you a mommy/daddy/parent (even if it’s not biologically possible) and you’ll be manhandled into a mating press until he feels he’s filled you up enough for it to take.

In the same way it makes him feel so pretty and desirable if you tell him your going fuck a baby into him, he doesn’t care if it’s not technically possible, tell him your going to knock him up and keep him round with your seed, he’ll be moaning around your cock/strap like a slut. Push your fingers into his mouth to give him something to keep quiet on : )

Hucow kink! Loves it whether he’s the one submitting or dominating! Let him lead you around the barn with a cute cowbell collar and cow ears on! Loves to include chest play, no matter what gender (or lack there of) your chest he loves grope it, abusing your nipples until they’re swollen/hard and sensitive, don’t worry though, he’ll be more than happy to lave over them to lessen the sting. If your a good little heifer he’ll shove you face first onto a hay bale, pounding you until your hole is gaping and cum is leaking from it into the rough hay <3

If Tommy is being submissive in this situation he’s super eager to please! Tie him up and Milk his cock over and over until he’s actively squirming away from your hand and groaning in overstimulation. He’s a good boy though and knows his place so he won’t break the binds even if it would be easier for him than most people. Humiliate him and make him moo/beg for your cock/strap! Fuck him whilst using his horns as a grip.

Bubba sawyer

Like Tommy bubba is also inexperienced, raised under Drayton’s view that it’s “sex or the saw”. Due to this Bubba viewed sex as a betrayal of his family, being told it was only there to distract you from what’s important. Please be patient with her and reframe her view of sex, let her know she’s not dirty or immoral for having needs and desires.

Once they know more and gain more experience they’re super eager to impress! Litterally goes down on you like it’s their job. You might have to tap out after a few orgasms because he could drink you down for hours. He’ll leave you shaking and leaky and just look up at you with a happy smile on their cum smeared face.

He loves praise and to know that she’s doing a good job, tell them that they make you feel so good in a way no one else can. Don’t be afraid to get a little more rough with your language however, he loves when you compliment how his cock stretches you just right or how he’s made to take your strap/cock. It feels so taboo for them and makes them squirm.

Absolutely loves it if you use feminine names for her in bed. Doll/baby/princess. Makes him feel so pretty and cared for! Play with bubbas tits, they have an ample chest to paw at 👀 will absolutely mewl into the bedsheets and press their tits further into your hands. Loves to be called mommy! It lets them know you feel safe and comfy with them.

Jason voorhees

Jason is another slasher with a skewed view on sex, his mother taught him it was sinful and the reason for his death, but surely anything he does with the person he loves that feels this good can’t be wrong. Encourage him and let him know it’s ok to fulfill his need and he’s not dirty or wrong for it!

Jason is happy to let you take the lead most of the time considering his inhuman strength, he doesn’t want to hurt you and would feel more comfortable if you took things at your own pace, not wanting to get too excited and manhandle you too much (not that you would mind in the slightest). He’s also not opposed to the sight of you on top of him.

He loves it when you take control, using his cock like it was made for you, draining it for all it’s worth. He loves to know he’s the one making you feel good and he’s the one you love. Praise him and tell him how good he’s doing, that he knows all your favourite spots and can make you fall apart. let him know you own his cock and you’ll do whatever you want with it (with consent obviously)

Despite this, if Jason’s had a bad day with trespassers escaping or traps breaking on him he may be inclined to storm through the front door and pin you to the nearest service, spearing you on his thick cock and leaving you dripping without warning or mercy.

Jason will be open to bottoming over time once his confidence in being intimate has improved and he feels less anxious about trying new things. He’ll still need a lot of encouragement to relax but once he does he’s happy to let you take care of him. Hold his hand as you stretch him open on your fingers, exploring parts of Jason he didn’t even know were an option. He gets a little addicted to the feeling of being used, fucking into him with reckless abandon. You can be rougher with him when topping because of his inhuman nature, thrust a toy or finger in his ass along side your cock/strap, he can take it. He doesn’t have much of a gag reflex due to being undead so fuck his face to your hearts content as long as you wipe his tears and drool for him and tell him what a sweet boy he is for you!

Jason’s very sweet with aftercare, making you a warm drink and cleaning you both up with a wet rag, he appreciates if you do the same for him, maybe bring him his cherished teddy bear to ground him until he feels less floaty.

RZ! Michael Myers

Michael may be quiet but he’s very forward and unashamed with the things he wants. Don’t expect Michael to be shy when it comes to needing you. He’ll silently wrap around you from behind, grinding his need into your behind no matter the time or place, although he’ll back off if you tell him no, he’ll pout and let out a grunt of understanding, leaving to deal with it himself if your not in the mood.

Michael is more relentless in topping when he’s come back from a hunt, the adrenaline quickly turning to arousal as he smears the still slightly warm blood over your lips.

I defiantly think Michael enjoys CNC (consensual non consent). He hasn’t had a lot of control over things in his life considering he spent most of it in Smith’s Grove unable to even dictate the most simple aspects of it. He likes the total power exchange and the control he has over you as you squirm underneath him. It really riles him up if you fight back, biting him until he bleeds and thrashing so he can hold you down even harder. Michael loves to silence your pleads with his knife, running the dull side of it over your flushed and tear laden cheeks, moving it down to your throat as a warning.

(Will absolutely make you suck the handle of his knife until your eyes are teary before stuffing as much of it as he can into your man cunt. If you don’t want to Accidently cut your thighs then you better lay still and take it like a good boy.)

To add onto this I think he enjoys cnc on the receiving end to, if he wants to submit he wants to be dominated completely and wholly without mercy (safewords in place obviously). Michael likes to be handled roughly and shown that even if he is The Shape that you can break him down into a drooling mess. He’s 90% legs but Lord does he get insanely hard when you fold those long legs in half and drill him into the bed with your cock/strap.

(Hold him down and strip him of his coveralls and boxers, eat his pussy before he can even get a chance to steady himself. Manhandle him into position and rut your cunt into his, ignoring his pleasure and using him to get off selfishly. He’ll look at you dumbly and fucked out after, long hair frizzy and a mess of slick on his thighs)

Pull him aside and use him whenever you want, if he rolls his eyes or acts bratty feel free to slap him around! He loves a firm smack on the cheek when he won’t open up more than he likes to admit, he likes to feel powerless under you.

Michael would totally be into predator/pray with him playing the predator. Stalking you through the woods or the empty streets of Haddonfield with his trusted knife. He’s not worried about you being in any actual danger because he’s the bulk of danger in the town anyway. he has no doubts that should someone try get the best of you in the dark he could take care of them and not break a sweat. He stalks you through the town loving the way the your pace picks up the longer it takes for him to strike. He knows it’s inevitable, there’s no where you could go that Michael won’t find you. Don’t expect to make it home once he corners you, you’ll be pushed against or bent over whatever surface is nearest and having his cock bullied into you.

(Michael would grab you and slam you against a tree once he had you cornered, making quick work of his zipper and underwear. T-dick engorged with arousal and want, lips glistening behind the dense brown hair. He pushes you to your knees and gets to work. You will be spending the next while with your mouth and fingers pressed against Michael’s cunt, your head jerked harder and more forcefully the closer he gets)

Billy lenz

Billy is also very forward with what he wants as we can see from the movie, though I do personally headcanon that Billy is hypersexual due to his trauma so sex can go either one of two ways. Either he’ll be super into it and eager or ashamed and feeling disgusted with himself, if it’s the latter please reassure him it’s not dirty or wrong and try distract him with something else.

This couldn’t be a Billy lenz kink post without phone sex. He loves to call you up when your busy (shopping, on a walk, at work) and spew filth down your ear, telling you all the things he’s going to do to you or that he’ll let you do to him. The riskier the location the better. Sometimes he’ll even already be touching himself, mewling down the receiver like a slut for you to come home.

To add onto this I think he’d have a kink for fucking you whilst you talk to someone on the phone, giggling as he nudges his dick against the perfect spot, making you keen into the speaker.

Billy loves dirty talk on either end, whether it’s him telling you how he’s going to choke you on his fat cock or you telling him how good he feels inside you and to cum inside. He adores degrading you, making you feel like a cum dump. He’ll taunt you, telling you you’re only good to warm his cock and get him off, making you sniffle and repeat it back to him for his own satisfaction and ego.

He occasionally thought about the possibility of bottoming from time to time before meeting you but brushed it off since he’s not super familiar with it and didn’t want to meet up with a stranger to try. That didn’t stop him from experiencing with a finger or two but he wasn’t informed and didn’t use lube so it wasn’t good lol.

All this changes after you mention it one night in bed, excited but nervous Billy accepts. It turns out he’s a complete bottom bitch, such a slut any time you can get him under you, he’ll moan without holding back not caring if the other sorority members hear. He doesn’t care whether you’re pounding into him with his face smashed into the covers like a whore or if he’s riding you greedily, he loves it anytime he can have your cock/strap in him.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is incredibly needy and intense, inexperienced but excited to get as close to you as humanly possible. He may come off a little bratty and demanding but he’s completely willing to wait until you’re ready, he’d never do anything you didn’t want. When you are ready it’s all hands on deck, Brahms wants you all the time at any time.

It doesn’t matter if you’re impaled on his cock or if your burried inside him, Brahms is just happy to be close and horny lol

Absolutely has a mommy/daddy kink (dude has crazy mommy issues). He enjoys it when you take the reins for him and tell him what to do, order him about, tell him how to please mommy/daddy just the way they like. You already have quite the control over him in your daily life anyway, telling him what to do and when, making sure he follows his rules. Talk Brahms through how to ride your shaft/strap, make him slow down and speed up whenever you feel like it for your own enjoyment, ignoring his pleas to fuck him properly.

Brahms is horny pretty often, as a result of this penetrative sex isn’t always a need. He loves having free use of you, fucking your thighs until he spills all over them or grabbing your hand and rutting against it whilst you read a book in the other.

Spanking! Nothing puts unruly little boys back in their place like beating their ass until they beg you to stop, all of Brahms’s brattiness seems to disappear once he knows he’s pushed it to far and has a punishment coming his way. He’ll cry and beg you to change your mind but it’s too late, bend him over your lap and rip his trousers down. If he’s been extra ill-behaved bring out the paddle, switching cheeks and making him count until his ass has a pretty pink flush to it.

Asa Emory

Asa demands to be in control, that much is clear and that translates over into bed too. You might have met Asa organically through his university lectures or a museum, if this is the case then you will still be with him under the guise of a 24/7 power exchange relationship. If you met him via kidnapping and was taken to the hotel to be a pet then this will still be expected of you but with the addition of being experimented on/tortured for his own satisfaction. You won’t have a say on your freedom. (I’m going to be writing it from the perspective your kept at the hotel as a pet because it’s more likely)

Asa gets a sick thrill out of treating you like a dog. Fucking you whilst gripping the leash wrenched around your neck until you’re wheezing for air. He’ll make you bark for his cock just to laugh at how pathetic and needy you are, humiliating yourself so you can get your hole stuffed, disgusting. Paw mitts and belts on the thighs/calfs are used to make you practically immobile, totally reliant on him to fulfill your needs and unwilling to do so until he’s broken you down into a sobbing panting mess.

Even when bottoming Asa takes control, barking orders at you about how he likes to be fucked, faster, deeper. You better not even think about cumming without permission or you won’t be cumming again for the next few days whilst he uses your cock/strap like a sex toy. Asa pulls you by your hair as you eat his ass, choking/slapping you if you’re not doing it to his liking. At the end he’ll spit in your mouth and make you say “thank you sir”, forcing your jaw open to make sure you swallowed it all down and patting you on the cheek as a reward.

Medical play is a favourite of his. He enjoys nothing more than stripping you naked and strapping you down to the chilly metal medical table, securing your wrists to the wrist clamps. Snapping on his black latex (unless you’re allergic to latex lol) gloves Asa will dissect you bit by bit. New toys are regularly incorporated to see if he can get a different reaction from you. This can be through pain or pleasure, they’re both the same to him. Clamping your nipples and pulling them until they’re red and sore or landing slaps on your hole for squirming too much. Writing your reactions down on his clipboard and looking at you as nothing more than one of his specimens to pull apart and observe. If he notices a reaction he hasn’t seen from you before he’ll try again and again to recreate it no matter how taxing that may be on your body. Speculums are a favourite of his, prying open and inspecting your most private parts, pressing his fingers or different toys in to see how you react, spread hole twitching at the stimuli and unable to do anything about it. It feels intimate and violating in a way he loves to be able to look at your inner most parts so coldly and close up.

Yautja/predator (female and male)

Yautja are naturally pretty dominant in bed, the whole culture they live in revolves around shows of strength and resilience. Your mate thrives off taking care of all of your needs and proving themselves worthy and this is no different in bed. Always happy to satisfy your needs as your lover and the one who cares for you, your mate will come to help out any time they smell your arousal.

Female Yautja

Your mate naturally takes care of you in bed, a headstrong women who has earned her place on the higher end of society, because of this she loves to dress you up in the finest clothing and jewellery on Yautja prime, showing off her status and by proxy, yours. Don’t think you’re going to just leave the house in it though, she’ll pin you down, eyes taking in every part of you, the way the silky fabric lays across your centre, ready to be opened like a gift. The outfit will include a gold collar to match, one with her mark carved in it so everyone knows who you belong to. She may even take to fucking you in public if anyone tries to challenge her bond with you, your abused hole on display for anyone to see.

As your mate she trusts you to return the favour, however control isn’t given over that easily. You may be the one inside her cunt but she’s the one using you until your spent, a death grip on your collar as she looks down at you from on top, snarling in your face and a placing marking nips against your throat with her mandibles.

Once mating season rolls around she’ll be even more demanding, the instinct to mate and breed you at its peak. You’ll be kept in the nest of furs and fucked over and over. If you pass out? Not her problem, she’ll keep going until she’s satisfied your scented up and marked properly. She takes no brattiness during this time either, acting out or being difficult will earn you getting pinned to the furs, mandibles flared and snarling until you submit.

Male yautja

Another one I think would enjoy primal/predator play. Your mate stalks you through the jungle whilst cloaked. He knows your every exact move and you’re none the wiser. He loves how he can taste your fear in the air but he knows it’s all for show because he can taste you arousal permeating the dense tree’s too. He’ll appear out of nowhere just as your adrenaline reaches it’s peak and swipe your ankles, forcing you down to the leafy floor with him. He lets out a clicky laugh at the surprise scream you let out. Wasting no time he mounts you like an animal and ruins you again and again until your both spent.

Your mate can tell when you’re ovulating and he’s ecstatic to help. Blood is so common to him in his daily life it doesn’t phase him at all, he’s perfectly happy to get down and a little messy, you smell so sweet to him during this time. If this matches with his rutt then you aren’t leaving the bed for a few days, he’ll fuck into you mercilessly until his swollen knot pops inside you, connecting you both together. Once it deflates he’ll scoop his cum back up and push it into your hole, not wanting to waste a drop.

Sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of, and you prove this by absolutely destroying him. Go feral, show him how much of a capable mate you are, wrestle him to the floor and ruin his hole, leave bites and marks on him to claim him. He’ll snarl the whole time and fight back but he loves it. He may even let you use a toy/strap with a knot on it to emulate being seeded and stuffed at the end.

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roosterforme · 10 months

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Playing From the Rough | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley agrees to play in a charitable golf tournament as long as you tag along. When he tells off a professional golfer for being rude and then beats him at his own game, Bradley braces himself for the consequences. But it's you the professional decides to take it out on. Guess he didn't get the memo: don't mess with the Bradshaws.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of smut, mentions of blood, non consensual touching

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Beautiful banner by @mak-32

"Come on, Rooster. We need a fourth golfer," Bob coaxed, handing Bradley another beer at the Hard Deck. "It's a foursome, not a threesome. And it's for charity."

Bradley sipped the drink and thought about how he'd have to spend a whole weekend day away from you, and he really just wasn't feeling it. The two of you were enjoying that newlywed bubble you'd been living in. Recently, Saturdays had been reserved for sleeping in late, walking the dog, and fucking.

"Wow, I guess Bradshaw just hates charitable events for children's hospitals," Jake drawled, sipping on his glass of bourbon. "Come on. Be a sport. Payback and Fanboy are deployed. We need one more to make a team."

Bradley sighed. "Let me check with my wife."

"Bring her," Coyote said, lining up a shot at the pool table. "We get two extra tickets. She can drive a golf cart and drink beers all day if she wants."

Bradley cocked his head to the side before he turned to look at you and Nat taking shots up at the bar. "Who else would come?" he asked the guys. "With the other extra ticket?"

But Coyote had followed his gaze. "Give it to Nat. They'd have fun."

"They can be our cheerleaders," Jake said with a smirk.

Bradley snorted. "Don't hold your breath. I think drinking, heckling, and hitting us with the golf carts would be more their speed."

------------------------

"Roo."

Bradley woke up to you pushing your fingers back through his hair, and he groaned. It was just before six in the morning, and you were rubbing yourself against his leg and kissing his neck. He realized he had an erection before he could even remember what day it was, and then he groaned louder.

You and he had to be at the gold course for the charitable fundraiser in about an hour. Bradley wrapped his hands around your waist. "We need to get up, Baby Girl."

"No," you whispered. "You need to fuck me. I'm so horny."

"Shit," he sighed, glancing at the time on his phone. "We can't. We'll be late."

"Roo!" you whined, thoroughly unaccustomed to being told no when it came to anything, but especially when it was something you wanted in bed. Bradley was weak for you in that way.

"I'll make it up to you later, after I'm all sweaty and you've had even more time to get wound up," he promised, squeezing your ass.

You moaned softly next to his ear. "You better. I want it twice."

"Three times," he replied with a smirk as he got out of bed. He watched you get dressed in a little tropical print pleated skirt and a sleeveless white golf shirt. And nothing else. "Are you planning on wearing any underwear?" he asked, following you into the bathroom.

"No," you told him casually, bending over at the sink to wash your face. He could see your bare pussy. You were doing this intentionally to mess with him. This is what he got for telling you no sex. "Fuck."

When he came up behind you, clearly having a change of heart, you stepped away from him and said, "We don't want to be late." He watched you walk back into the bedroom with your chin in the air. Oh, he'd get you good later.

Once you were holding two travel mugs of coffee and Bradley had his golf bag, he followed you out to the Bronco. He tossed his clubs in the back and then buckled your seatbelt. He let his palm rest on your thigh as he leaned in to kiss you.

"You're going to look so pretty sitting in the golf cart and cheering for me," he said, trying not to laugh.

"If anything, you're my trophy husband," you replied with a laugh as you kissed his scarred cheek.

"I love you," he promised before closing the passenger door and heading out.

The weather was perfect, the sky was blue, and when you and Bradley arrived at the golf course, the others were already there. The four of them were wearing matching golf shirts emblazoned with Top Gun on the back along with white pants. Bradley wasn't the best golfer by any stretch of the imagination. He usually just tagged along because it was fun, and today was no different. They were raising money for a local children's hospital, and some of the kids were present.

Bradley smiled at the children who were waving to them after they got checked in. "They'd probably love some pictures with you guys," you whispered, running your hand up Bradley's bicep.

"Nah," Bradley replied. "There are some TV stars and musicians here. I don't think they care about us."

But you pushed him and Jake toward the kids, and their little faces lit up. Soon Bob was handing out some pins with wings that said Top Gun, and you took pictures while the kids asked questions about aviation.

Bradley ended up sitting with a little girl named Abigail who asked him a million questions about his Super Hornet, but he didn't mind. He loved kids. But it was almost time to get started, so he stood and gave her a high five. And he posed for one more photo that you took before he headed to one of the golf carts.

"That was sweet of you to pose for pictures with the kids," you told him as you slipped into the driver's seat.

"It was sweet of you to take all the photos," he replied, sitting next to you and kissing your cheek.

"Ready?" Coyote asked, taking a seat in the back. Bradley watched Nat tear off in the other cart with Bob and Jake barely hanging on. You followed them to the first tee at a much slower pace, and Bradley was happy to see that there were more kids among the spectators.

He played the first few holes pretty well. Surprisingly, he was keeping up with Javy and Jake. You and Nat were half watching and half laughing with some drinks in your hands, but Bradley just wanted you to have a good time.

And you were definitely making sure he was having a good time. Whenever he met your gaze, you ran your fingers up your bare thigh or licked your lips. He was probably playing so well because he knew what was in store for him later. Probably a blowjob to start, but you'd definitely let him finish in your pussy. When he checked the time on his phone, he saw a text from you.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: I'm really horny.

He groaned. You were hot for him and texting him from twenty feet away. He texted you back before tucking his phone away so he could tee off.

Behave, or I'll spank you.

Bradley thought he could hear you moan from the golf cart. But that sweet sound was soon drowned out by someone else.

"Jesus Christ. I told him to fuck off! He doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about. And his golf swing looks like a piece of shit, too."

It was a guy about his age, swearing up a storm in front of all the kids. Bradley clenched and unclenched his fist in his glove. Sure, he could appreciate the subtle art of the f-word, but not in front of families with kids representing the charity! There was a time and a place. Like bullshitting at the bar or whispering dirty stuff in your wife's ear.

"Rooster, you're up," Javy called, and Bradley rolled his shoulders and walked away.

But this prick was still running his mouth at the next hole. Bradley didn't know how he got unlucky enough to have to play next to this idiot, but he couldn't take much more. And when he looked up and saw Abigail and her parents, he decided that was enough.

"Hey man, do you mind?" Bradley asked him, and then he was met with cold, gray eyes.

"I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?" the prick responded, sizing Bradley up.

"Someone who's sick of listening to your mouth," Bradley replied without hesitation. This guy was handsome and smug, and Bradley couldn't stand him. "This is an event for children. There are kids everywhere. Cut it out with the foul language."

Bradley turned and walked back toward the golf cart where you were laughing with Nat when Jake jogged up next to him. "Dude, what did you just say to Hunter King?"

"Who?"

"You were just talking to Hunter King. He's a super famous pro golfer!"

Bradley turned back to see that he was still being glared at. "I told him to shut his mouth and stop swearing in front of all the kids," he told Jake.

"But that's Hunter King," Jake insisted with wide eyes.

Bradley shrugged and said, "I don't care who he is. He's being rude." Then he took a quick sip of the beer you were holding before handing it back to you with a kiss to your forehead.

"Ready to go to the next hole?" you asked, brushing the hem of your skirt a little higher.

"I'm ready to take you home," Bradley replied, squeezing your perfect thigh.

"Gross," Nat complained, climbing out of the cart and heading to the other one. You and she drove the four of them to the next hole, and Bradley saw that Hunter King was right there as well.

"Go get a hole in one, Roo," you told him, rubbing high up on his thigh and brushing his cock.

"Baby Girl, I'm gonna teach you a lesson later."

"Ohh," you crooned. "Will you teach me how to hold your club?"

"If you're good," he replied, climbing out of the cart with a shake of his head. Bradley watched Hunter King play par on the hole, and then it was his turn. Bradley drove the ball with a nearly perfect swing, and the ball landed on the green.

You and Nat were both cheering for him, and the kids in the area all looked delighted as well. Nat drove Bradley over to the green to putt while you waited with Bob and Jake. And to Bradley's surprise, he came in at one stroke under par for the hole. He just did better than a professional golfer. And now Hunter King looked even more pissed off.

"Good," Bradley muttered to himself, bending to get his ball out of the hole. "That's what you get."

And then Bradley beat him on the next hole. And the one after that.

"Wow, Rooster," Nat said, rubbing his shoulder. "I had no idea you'd be this good. Jake tells everyone how terrible you are."

Bradley rolled his eyes as you walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist. "You're doing better than Javy, Bob and Jake," you informed him, clearly impressed.

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "It's just for charity." But he was still shocked when he finished in third place overall. Hunter King finished in fourth.

Bradley went over to congratulate the first and second place finishers, but he was cut off by Hunter. "Good game," Bradley managed through clenched teeth, holding out his hand. But the other man didn't shake it. Instead he smiled in such a way that made Bradley feel very uneasy.

"Are you married?" Hunter asked him.

Bradley's brow scrunched up. "Yeah," he replied.

"Which one's your wife?" Hunter was nodding to where you and Nat were standing in the sunlight. You looked beautiful, the golden glow illuminating your skin as you shifted weight from one foot to the other. With one hand planted on your hip you tossed your head back and laughed. You were his wife. His perfect wife.

"You know what?" Hunter replied. "It doesn't matter. I'll take real good care of both of them."

"What?" Bradley asked, but as soon as Hunter headed your way, someone was trying to pull him aside for a photo with the other winners. When he turned back, all he saw was you and Nat being led away with Hunter's hand on your lower back.

---------------------------

"Ladies."

You looked up into a pair of soft, gray eyes and were met with a brilliant smile. "My name's Hunter, and I'd love to take you on a tour of the VIP tent."

"Sounds swanky," Nat replied, smiling at him.

"Oh. It is. I promise," he said with another charming smile. "Let's go."

You looked back to see that Bradley was absorbed with a photography crew and some of the kids associated with the charity. You tried to wave to get his attention, but you supposed it didn't really matter. You wouldn't be gone long enough to even need to grab you phone from the golf cart.

Then Hunter's hand came to rest just above the swell of your butt, and you thought your eyes were going to bug out. As he nodded at the security guard watching the entrance to the VIP tent, you slipped out of his grasp.

"Welcome, Mr. King," the guard said with a smirk. "Two guests with you?"

"That's right," he replied with a laugh. He was annoying, but the inside of the tent was incredible. It looked more like a small arena inside. There were people checking out golf simulators and waiters walking around with drinks. You watched Hunter grab two bottles of champagne from a large ice bucket.

"This way, ladies," he said, and you took Nat by the hand before she could wander over to the simulators. Hunter looked at your joined hands as you both followed him, and he muttered, "That works for me, too."

You pulled Nat a little closer as the three of you ended up in a secluded area. After he popped the first bottle of champagne, he handed it to Nat. "A whole bottle?" she asked. "Thanks, Hunter."

Then he popped the second one and gave it to you. "Drink up."

His fingers lingered on yours as you said, "I love pink champagne. My husband buys it for me all the time."

Hunter's eyes appraised you, lingering on your lips and chest. You were suddenly very aware of your lack of underwear and peaked nipples. "Oh, you're married?" he asked casually. "Was he the one who finished in the top three?"

"Yes! He placed third," you told him before taking a sip of the expensive champagne. It was delicious, and Nat had already finished half of her bottle. You kind of wanted to share your bottle with Bradley, but you also kind of wanted to ditch it and leave.

"You like to play golf?" Hunter asked, completely focused on you now.

You shrugged. "I haven't played much. I usually just hang out in the golf cart when I go."

"Your husband won't let you play?"

You rolled your eyes. "I can assure you that I do whatever I want."

"I love to hear that," he laughed with a smile. "And I think you want to try out one of the simulators."

You noticed that Nat had already wandered away to one of the booths. "Just for a minute," you agreed.

Then you listened to him explain how the simulator worked. It was a small booth, and you would wear a virtual reality mask. It looked just like you were really on a golf course.

"Let me close the door for you," Hunter murmured next to your ear. "So you can get started."

He closed the booth, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was still in there with you. Because when you bent a little at the waist, you bumped into him with your butt.

"You need a little help with your posture?" he asked, wrapping his hands around your hips from behind. In an instant, you knew you were rubbing against the zipper of his pants, and his left hand was skimming over your skirt right where your little rooster tattoo was covered by the thin fabric.

You gasped when his hands slid a little lower. You had no underwear on, because your main goal of the day had been to tease Bradley. But now Hunter was the one almost touching your bare skin.

"What the hell?" you shouted in the small space, whipping off the mask covering your eyes and spinning around. "What the hell is your problem?" You watched his face as you pulled your right hand back. He looked alarmed, eyes wide and hands held up in surrender as your palm made contact with his face.

"Ow! Fuck!" he screamed. Somehow you managed to slap his cheek and also hit his nose with the heel of your hand at the same time. It started gushing blood onto his pale blue shirt, and he tried to pinch the bridge of his nose to get it to slow down.

"I'm married, and you're creepy!" you informed him loudly, shoving past him to get out of the simulation booth. "Come on, Nat," you called, taking her hand again.

"Why are we leaving? I didn't finish my champagne!" she complained. So when you walked back past the ice bucket, you gabbed a new bottle for her and a second one for yourself.

"Hunter is a creep," you informed her as you made your way to the tent exit. But Hunter was hot on your heels and reaching out for you.

----------------------------

Bradley saw you go inside the VIP area, but he got pulled aside for some group photos. He knew the kids, including Abigail, were waiting for more photos as well, but he quickly excused himself to head after you.

"That son of a bitch," he muttered to himself as he approached the security guard. Hunter King was mad that he told him to shut his mouth, and beating a professional at his own game really hadn't helped Bradley's cause. And he just knew Hunter was going to try to take it out on you and Nat.

He started sweating. You were all horny and wound up, and you had skipped underwear to mess with him. And now the guy who was pissed off at Bradley was probably inside pawing at you. And you weren't answering your phone.

"Whoa, hang on," the guard said, sliding into place in front of the entrance just as Bradley got there. "This area is off limits for you."

Bradley grunted. "My wife is in there."

"Good for her," he replied with a shrug of his enormous shoulders.

"You don't understand. She's with Hunter King."

The guard had the audacity to smirk at him. "One of those two attractive women? I'm sure she's having a great time with Mr. King."

What was that supposed to mean? Bradley had to close his eyes and silently count to ten. "I just need to pop in there, and then I'll be right back out."

"Absolutely not."

Bradley ground his molars together before he managed a very insincere sounding, "Please?"

Then the security guard laughed at him, and Bradley contemplated trying to shove this guy out of his way. He had about a hundred pounds and four inches on Bradley, but it would be worth the pounding to make sure you and Nat were okay. Just as he was working himself up to do it, he caught sight of you heading his way, dragging Nat along. You emerged from the tent looking unscathed.

"Hi, Roo," you said sweetly, gripping a bottle of pink champagne for some reason. You wrapped your arms around him, the cold condensation from the bottle pressing to the back of his neck.

"What's going on, Baby Girl?" he asked, still completely bewildered as you kissed him. "Where's Hunter King?" He was pulling you a little closer, waiting for some sort of explanation.

But Nat started laughing. "You don't need to worry about your wife. Cheers," she said, holding up a second bottle of champagne before popping the cork.

You whispered, "I love you," against Bradley's lips just as he saw Hunter come storming to the tent entrance with blood all over his shirt.

Bradley took your face in his hands. "What happened? Why is he covered in blood? Did he try to hurt you? Or Nat? This is all my fault for telling him to stop swearing and then beating his score." Bradley could feel his pulse quicken, feel his brow crease in concern, but you were smiling.

"He's a creep. I told him I was married, and he still tried to touch me, but I'm pretty sure I broke his nose."

Bradley shoved you gently away from him, ready to beat the ever living shit out of both the security guard and Hunter King. He watched Hunter's eye grow wide as he clenched both hands into fists, but then you were in front of him again.

"Roo! It's okay!" you promised, pressing the champagne bottle to his chest and pushing him back.

"It is not okay," he growled, letting you push him a little further away from the tent. "I'll rip him in half."

"Roo! Right before I saw you, he tried to grab me again. I told him I'd call the cops if he didn't match the donation that was being made to the children's hospital."

"Match the donation? That's like four hundred thousand dollars," he replied, looking at you with surprise. "You just got Hunter King to make a personal donation of four hundred thousand dollars?"

"Yep!" you replied, pressing yourself to the front of him. "I sure did. And I got him to say it in front of one of the charity's coordinators. I also insinuated to that coordinator that perhaps Mr. King shouldn't be allowed to spend any time alone with women in the VIP tents in the future. And that maybe he should be removed from the circuit. Now let's go home, pop this delicious bottle of pink champagne, and celebrate your third place victory!"

Bradley was still gaping at you before he scooped you up into his arms. He was careful to keep your butt covered with one big hand as you kissed his face while he glared past you at Hunter King until the other man slinked back into the shadows where he belonged.

"You're such a badass," he told you suddenly. "I'm so impressed by you all the time, Sweetheart. You don't even need me."

"No, I don't," you agreed with him, kissing his cheek and trailing your lips back to his ear. "But I really, really want you."

"Let's go home," he grunted, carrying you to one of the golf carts. "I just want my bed, my wife, and the expensive champagne she stole from the VIP tent."

-----------------------------

Don't mess with the Bradshaws! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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