#FANG PLUSH IS NOW REAL

[stellaaarree]

wanting to see miguel’s fangs.

hands cupping the skin of his cheeks, with the smirk pulling at your plush lips he already knew what was happening, feeling equally embarrassed no matter how many times it had happened, with a coo you speak. “cmonnn, let us see those fangs,hm?” a grumble leaving his mouth as his lips part just enough to see his sharp fangs. “i’ll bite you.” he warns, an empty threat…unless you asked for it. “and paralyse me? no chance.” you snap back in a ‘matter of fact’ way.

thumbs going past his lips with a smile, sharp fangs on view as his red eyes rolled for what felt like the hundredth time. “dios mío.” he groans, voice stupidly muffled by your fingers in his mouth. “shut up you’re gonna spit on me!” you whine, tilting his head up to get a pretty view of the pearly white canines. you had always had a thing for his fangs, wether they where deep in your neck or just subtly on view in a form of intimidation.

“you’re the one with your fingers in my mouth!” he snaps back, words still obviously muffled, trying to keep the spit to a minimum. “but papi,” you smile innocently. the nickname shutting him up real quick, the heat running to his usually stone cold cheeks unavoidable.letting his fangs fully come into view as his talons extended to maximise the ‘experience’ which he only tolerated for the sake of his amor.

finally pulling your thumbs out of his mouth after humming in appreciation. you where like his sweet little dentist, always helping keep those canines as bright and shiny as possible. wiping his saliva on the side of his suit he groans with a “really?” you respond wittily of course. “well it’s yours isn’t it?”

leaning his head up he presses his lips to yours in partly spite, partly love. pulling back breathless after a couple of seconds with a sneaky. “now it’s ours.”

he always had to have the last word.

[astarionslittletreat]

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

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

Word Count: 5.7k

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

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

Read on AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Astarion–”

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

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

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

You beg. 

You curse. 

You come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Astarion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spitgobbler]

Sweet Treat

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

pairing: fboy!leon kennedy x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. That’s why your bestie fled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whine out for him, “Please,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“L-Leon, come on already.” You whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gojoshooter]

On halloween night with boyfriend Sukuna

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ohsunnyboy]

living wine | song eunseok ˚₊‧⁺˖

song eunseok is good at maths, a vampire or an extreme lightweight. one of those is false, and it's not the one you think it is!

TAGS: college!au, vampire!eunseok, human!reader, gn!reader, vivid descriptions of blood, veins and feeding, kissing and caressing, gets suggestive by the end!!

A/N: eunseok has such vampire-esque visuals i couldn't help myself hehe self indulgent as per usual (idk why this turned out so long i just wanted to write some hot bloodsucking)

WORDS: ~2400

"How on earth did you get all of this wrong?" You stare at the question sheet and back at his laptop. The fang about, find out! sticker on it fraying and stained with takeout. "I thought communication studies was meant to be easy?"

"It's not wrong. There's no wrong in comm studies," he groans, still rolling about the floor of your dorm like a toddler. “I swore to Sungchan this would be the last time I change my major and he's going to tear me apart if I can't ace this."

"Oh boohoo, your mysterious campus vampire aura will be ruined. What will everyone do?" you intone, rolling your eyes.

Said mysterious vampire, Song Eunseok, buries his face into your plush cushions and groans some more. Imagine communications being the biggest of your worries in the world.

As a political science major, with a minor in vampire relations, it seemed natural when you stumbled into Eunseok's friend group at a You Can Fang event at the college. A vamp and human mixer to encourage integration due to well... reasons.

Because the thing is, vamps have only been about for 30 years.

Which is a lie. Or rather, a condensation of the fact that they've been generally acceptable for 30 years. It's only now do you find tick boxes for vampires on questionnaires, 24/7 blood banks and raw blood on the a la cartes to cater to the perpetually living.

Apart from that, it's been since the dawn of time they've been kicking about, seamlessly blending into society by acting like the rest of you. As evidenced by the one stretched out like flattened dough on your plush carpet. Eunseok physically exists at 18, has the vainness of a 15-year-old but has been kicking around for 22 whole years.

Which somehow doesn't qualify him from doing college level anything even half well.

"You still there?" Eunseok’s voice is muffled from where he's face down on the carpet, that or it's his fangs digging into his lip. He’s been limp and lethargic like this for far too long.

"Yeah, yeah just baffled at what you've written," you hum.

You shift the laptop from your lap to the floor next to you, choosing to study the moping princess. Eunseok’s brown hair is almost black in the dim of your room while also sticking up everywhere from running his hand through it constantly. Even his clothes look out of it, which is a feat for someone who always aims for college campus chic. Further, while it’s traditionally vampiric to be ghastly pale – Eunseok’s always had a tan from when he was bitten at 18 that just stuck around – his skin somehow looks even worse in the lamp light.

"What's wrong, Eunseok? You've been like this all week," you sigh.

Thump-thump. The clock ticks three times; it’s nearly midnight and the full moonlight peeks through the blinds. Thump— he shifts. “It’s nothing..." Curling further up into a ball. Like you believe that, he’s a professional whiner.

"Real convincing. How about you sit up and look me in the eyes when you say that,” you quip back. With some more prodding at his head with your foot, Eunseok sits up petulant.

You take your time to look at him properly now: Eunseok’s sunken eyes and dry mouth. It makes your own lips purse in concern. It’s a far cry to what your Eunseok usually looks like however it’s all signs of what you’ve been suspecting all this time. Idiot.

"I am completely fine,” he says it with the utmost uncertainty of any college student lying through their teeth about already having started a paper that is due the next day.

"Seok... you're paler than a sheet." When you say it, his face nearly brightens up. "That’s not a compliment!" And only then does he huff out a small laugh, eyes casting to the side.

“I’m fine, promise. Just…long night?” Eunseok mutters but it comes out like a question. You know he sleeps poor in general but that’s no excuse. You pay way too much attention to him, is what some voice says at the back of your mind, but never mind that.

Maybe it’s a reassurance when he snakes a hand around your ankle, but his cold embrace only reminds you of what he is. Maybe it’ll make whatever you plan to do just a bit easier. The question’s been dancing on the tip of your tongue since the start after all.

"...When's the last time you fed?" your eyes search for his as you ask, but he seems hellbent on avoiding your gaze.

"Why? are you offering?" Eunseok snorts and you can taste the sarcasm in his tone. He shakes his head again, before finally raising his gaze to yours apologetically. "...Look this week's been so bad. All the blood banks are low, my new TA is Satan incarnate and Sungchan chipped my tooth last time I tried feeding from him so I couldn't even feed properly then.” His finger’s drum across the skin of your ankle: pinching and smoothing.

"...and then everybody's also been busy with the new semester,” you conclude.

"Exactly.”

The silence consumes the room. You’d liken it to someone taking a fluffy blanket and smothering you in it. Dying in comfort and screaming in silence.

The sensation of Eunseok’s fingers on your skin is what grounds you. Pinch and soothe, thump-thump, pinch and smooth, thump-thump. Goosebumps have started to rise up your leg as you watch his movement. Thump-thump, pinch and smooth. You’ve grown used to his cold whenever you press against each other, even when he tries to stay away. Despite it, your heart races all the same.

Thump-thump, pinch and smooth.

The carpet bites when you crawl to him.

"Woah, woah hold on. You’re not doing what I think you’re doing.” Eunseok holds out his hand like that’s going to stop you. “You've never been fed on before,” he says it with such a painful sincerity that you think it’s meant to hurt, but right now, waiting in silence is hurting you more than he ever could.

"You need it, idiot. Besides, I trust you enough.”

"I've been a vamp for like 4 years! I don't trust me enough!"

"What happened to feeding from Sungchan a minute ago? You literally led the safe feeding talk at that You Can Fang thing last year!" You kneel back, saving yourself from your tone.  

Eunseok’s pinching and smoothing down the skin of his own hand. Nerves line him but you know he can hear your heart much better than you can your own. Thump-thump-thump—

"It was from his wrist, and it wasn’t term yet. I’ve – well, I’ve looked at yours, your veins are way too faint,” Eunseok mumbles. His beady eyes dipping towards your throat, while your own eyes track his tongue as he wets his lip. “You know I’d have to feed from your neck.” His voice trembles under the suggestion. Under this light, it should be impossible to tell if he’s blushing, but you swear he’s buzzing with heat.

You’re not stupid: you pay attention to your vampire education and etiquette classes. Enough people walked out of that feeding talk red faced and a little shifty eyed at anyone that had bite marks at the neck. The blush that sears across your face now probably mirrors theirs.

The thing is, you’ve made up your mind a long time ago.

“I’m offering, Eunseok. Don’t be more of an idiot than I think you already are.”

Thump-thump-thump—

Eunseok’s pupils swallow up the whites of his eyes, and in the next instant, you’re being lifted, straddling his thigh, his arms a crushing force wrapped around your back and cradling your head. Burying his face into the skin of your throat, he makes a high sigh of relief. Fire licks up across where you touch, eating you alive before he’s even sank a fang.

Even if he’s stone cold under your touch, the room feels like it’s been plunged into a broil, losing yourself in a steamy haze. He noses at your pulse, the tell-tale thump-thump-thump— of your own must be as loud as the fucking heavens crashing down on him. Amber and roses, the scent that’s haunted you everywhere since you got it for him, reminds you of all that he is.

(Yours.)

A breath, another, another, before Eunseok’s head tilts up from where you’ve locked your arms around him, and you come to stare at his impossibly dark eyes paired with his pearly peeking fangs. “…Are you sure?"

You close your eyes, seeking patience. “Take as much as you need, idiot.” And Eunseok exhales so hard his whole-body shakes. Your hand tightening itself at the mess of his hair. Come on, take it.

His eyes flutter, stupidly long eyelashes ticklish against your skin, his head ducks and you get a second before he presses his lips to your neck, drops his fangs and bites.

The pain is a pinch.

A sensation that will root itself into your guts and sear itself into your muscle memory. It crawls up your jaw and shatters across your head; it splits from your skull, and it streaks down your back; and then it sets aflame everything you thought was burning already. Distantly, he groans into your skin with the same neediness as before.

Where there is fire, his lips come to sooth. Eunseok lets out a soft, needful sound as he presses his lips over your skin – and maybe you do too. Every inch of you breaks into shivers. Thump-thump-thump-thump— an anthem backed by chorus. You can feel yourself losing grip in his hair, but Eunseok just pulls you impossibly closer into him, propped up in his arms as you give more onto him. Drinking you in and eating you whole.

“Thank you,” he starts mumbling into your skin, over and over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Eunseok slurs it out like prayer. Blood drunk is the word you can find floating in the haze of your mind. You turn the thought of it over and over in your head with fascination. You have to bite back a whine.

Even without the blood, you could lose yourself to the feeling of his roaming hands. Always so close to edging under your sweatshirt but catching himself every time. His hands clench at your hips, taut in a way he’s never been before.   

"Please, Eunseok..." Amid your daze, you find the strength to nod, finding his hands and slipping them under and then up, and up. You reward him, pressing a kiss to his hair. He answers with a groan that shudders down your body. Tracing the line of your spine, ribs and collar. Leaving you gasping into your quiet dorm room. You’re half aware of your agape mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head, every part of you singing as Eunseok takes.

Propped up in each other’s arms, you don't know which one of you has given more to the sensation. Far away, you think you could sit like this for hours. Wrapped up in everything Eunseok. Subject to a degree of sheer want that you’d never want him sharing with anyone. Yours, yours, yours. It’s the anthem of your heart when you’re pressed against each other in one hot line.

…It could be another age when you feel his fangs detract. 

All you hear is your heaving breaths against the tick of the clock. The hum of your blood has plastered itself to the walls of your mind, another fixture that you’ve somehow adjusted to. Just like the cold that meets your neck again, and again. A break in the ice after drowning for hours.

Eunseok laps at the puncture wounds at your neck with enthusiasm. His hands planted firmly on your hips, holding you in place. You want to squirm as he leaves a trail of kisses to chase after the blood that drips from the wounds. Savouring every drop of you.

You bring a hand up, to cradle his working jaw, marvelling at the flush on his skin, the utter mess of his hair, how he holds you so gently.

“You… you taste like living wine. You know that, right?” Eunseok croaks out, eyes closed, head down. Something in you is struck with awe, you’ve never seen him like this. “Taste so fucking good.” He punctuates it with a kiss at the base of your throat, searing with want, humming from satisfaction.

He continues to trail them up all the way to the corner of your mouth. Teasing at your lips with his red stained ones. “You’ve ruined this for me. Don’t want anyone else feeding from you,” he purrs.

Instead of sitting there limp, you capture his face and plant a quick kiss to his lips. “Don’t want you feeding from anyone else either.” You can taste your blood on your lips as you smile and look him dead in the eye. “You’re mine too.”

Thump-thump. Eyes wide open, he stares back at you with the same craze. Partnered with Eunseok’s own brand of a self-satisfied smirk that’s driven you insane since you met him – it's mix made for devastation.

“Feel better now?” you croak out.

“All thanks to you,” he hums.

Moonlight pierces into the room and you can see him clearer now. There’s some more colour to his skin, flush from exertion, with your blood a lip-stain. Even his dazed eyes are somehow more alert than before – in spite of being a notorious lightweight.

“Let me take care you.” Eunseok preens under your hands and moves.

You nearly go dizzy from the rush as Eunseok manhandles you. Lifting you from under the knees, plastering you to his front, legs bracketing his waist, before depositing you onto your bed. A laugh escapes you from the rush of Eunseok caging you in, while landing a glancing peck on your lips

“Oh?” And you quirk your brow. A cheeky grin on your face at his own amused look. "A round two?"

However, Eunseok just rolls his eyes and collapses beside you. “We both have class in the morning and it’s like 1am.” The cheeky bugger buries into your side and slings an obnoxious leg around your hip. “I’ll get you like a Gatorade in the morning for your electrolytes when we wake up, yah?”

To be honest with yourself, there’s not enough strength in you to protest or even roll your eyes back at him. Your heart’s too busy guiding you to sleep while a hand finds yours in the night.

Thump-thump… pinch and soothe.

(Needless to say, you had to wear a turtleneck to class tomorrow morning.)

pls lmk how this turned out bc this one was a learning experience for me! a like or reblog would be lovely if you enjoyed ty <3 ⭒ masterlist

[bunnyreaper]

kinktober 4 - monster fucking

demon!ghost x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The king's gift

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 24

Prompt: Birthday

Rated: T

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

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

Notes: Continued from day 15

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

Steve is gonna murder it. 

The sun, too, while he's at it. 

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

Or the chime of a giant clock. 

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

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

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

Steve freezes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

… oh, no. 

No fucking way. 

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

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

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

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

He isn’t wearing anything else. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All my holiday drabbles

[thebigbiwolf]

Mine, if Only for the Night

Summary:

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

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

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

Word Count: 5.1k~

Read on AO3: Here

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe you didn't desire him at all. 

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

An uncomfortable weight in his chest. 

He brushes the feeling aside, scoffing to himself.

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

As if.

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

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

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

He could hardly believe his beautifully pointed ears.

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

You are different.

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

Part of you even enjoyed it. 

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

And yet, you asked nothing more of him. 

So, what is a friend to do?

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

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

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

He would ruin you, if you’d allow it.

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

And yet, here you are, keeping him waiting.

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

The rustle of leaves, a snapping twig. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all the confirmation he needs. 

“Ah,” he purrs, “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Say it .”

“ Please , Astarion. I want this -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that certainly won’t do.

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

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

“I - agh , yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

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

Lust .

He’s got you now.

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

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

Astarion smiles to himself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is everything.

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

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

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

“Shit, Astarion -”

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

“I’m - I think I’m close -” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are breathless , chest heaving from sheer exertion.

“That was…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

This desire to touch you.

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

You sink down, enveloping him in suffocating heat . 

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

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

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

But to be enjoying it this much? 

Sheer disbelief.

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

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

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

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

“Can you what, my dear?”

“Can I move, please?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It drags you under like a raging current. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Inside? Agh - Inside, please, ” 

Oh.

An unexpected answer, but not an unwelcome one.

And so, he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What ever will he do with you?

[justpoliteconversations]

The Negotiator [Reader + Mer!Warriors]

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

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

Masterlist

Part: 1 / 2

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it a deal?"

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

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

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

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

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

It was why he didn't want to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

And humans were just another animal.

---

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

[astral-mariner]

WIP Wednesday ✨

This excerpt from Homeworld Lost comes from the chapter directly following the chapter excerpt I shared last Wednesday! Vegeta and Raditz have escaped Freeza's homeworld to be alone on an empty, recently purged planet. They are processing a lot of horrific things that have happened. Here, in this scene, they are looking for a place to spend the night. If you know anything about my writing, you know to be skeptical of every little detail.

***

Though crumbling and blackened with soot, a pair of ruined dwellings had escaped the blast. We hovered over rubble, twisted metal, and jagged glass till we found a door blown open—just tall and wide enough for both of us to slip inside easily. Whoever had lived here once must have had a size and shape similar to a saiyan.

I recognized sewn cushions for sitting, a nook, smelling of smoke, piled up with seasoned sea wood; a table set with trays, and a vessel for water smashed below. Near one broken window stood a crafted, hollow box lined with soft fabrics—a nest for a child, maybe. As we passed by to the next room, my fingers strayed over the smooth embroidery bearing a simple pattern of stars and moon phases.

More soft things here. No windows and a low, curved ceiling, protecting the space from the dust and debris that had littered the previous room. A carpet of woven dried foliage hushed our steps. Two platforms layered with plush coverings hugged opposite walls. One lay fastidiously arranged, the other in endearing disarray. I left this one alone; it felt too much like it belonged to someone.

“There won’t be anything better than this,” I told Vegeta. “Unless you prefer the wilderness.”

He paced slowly, meandering along the perimeter. His gaze trailed a row of wooden figures carved to resemble animals that lined a hardened sandstone shelf. Several had fallen to the floor. Warm-blooded animals; details of fur, painted pairs of eyes, fangs, smooth skin. Not so different from those native to Vegeta-sei. “If there are creatures like this here,” he said after a moment, “they will be good for hunting.”

“Might be nice to have some real food,” I agreed.

“Tomorrow.”

Despite the long rest of stasis, the journey had worn us down, and a deeper weariness had settled in after Arcos. I was ready to sleep again too.

The prince approached the disorderly platform but didn’t move to sit or lay down. So strange to disturb a home (grave) that the Planet Trade had already violated. Even if it meant more hours spent seeking shelter, we might need to leave this place behind.

Eventually, though, he flopped onto the bed in his exhaustion, shucking his boots off at the edge before pulling his knees up to his chest and curling at one corner. His tail uncoiled from his waist to wrap loosely around his legs; the tip fidgeted near his feet. He watched me expectantly.

There would be enough room for both of us if we lay close. So many times now had I sat next to him late into the night that I’d stopped thinking anything of it. Yet my heart quickened now. Something had changed since I’d held him in our pod, pressing him to my chest, petting his tail. For once, the hard, stern tension had melted from his body, and he’d slumped into my arms.

[divine-misfortune]

Kinktober, day 3. Bloodplay.

Pairing: Dewdrop/Rain

Words: 821

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

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

Shout out to @sphylor for inspiring this nonsense

Read on Ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's wrong?" 

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

"But?" 

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

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

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

"Doesn't compare." 

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

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

"Dew-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dozing-composing]

may we have some inside job headcanons for Ron with a coworker who’s a half-blood vampire? And since they’re a half blood, he didn’t realize for a while until he saw them turn into a bat or walk up a wall, and then they a little crash course on their vampiric traits 🦇

Ron Is So... Babygirl. Underrated Character For Real! I Also Have A Different Definition Of Vampire Than Most, So Be Aware That Mine May Not Align With Your Definition! I Can Add Or Change Things If Needed!

ᴠᴀᴍᴘʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ…

✦ Ron is a simple guy when it comes to work. Go in, get the job done, come back. He doesn't really hold much regard to his coworkers, until he met you, that is. ✦ You were just another regular person. Someone he should be able to count on should things go awry. Normally, he doesn't like working with other people, but something about you seemed off. He can't quite figure it out... ✦ But one day he accidentally walks in on you ranting to yourself. He rolls his eyes and is about to walk out to leave, but then he sees you walk up a wall. Defying gravity right before his eyes! Then you walk on the ceiling like you would on the ground. ⤷"How the hell are you doing that?!" "RON!" You stop mid-rant, and glide down, your feet reuniting with the floor below. ✦ Now he's ultimately confused. Do you have anti-gravity shoes or something?? What kind of technology are you using? Were you always able to do that? Why are you able to do that?? ✦ You sit him down to explain. You're what's considered a "half blood," meaning you get the best of both worlds. Whatever questions he has, you answer. ✦ Whether you were born like this, or were bit is completely up to you. You say you can do all sorts of stuff like turn into a bat, levitate a couple of feet off the ground, walk up walls, see clearly in the dark, all the good stuff. Sunlight doesn't really have an effect on you either, but you do sunburn easier than most people. Your nocturnal ability goes in and out, turns out still being human causes you to still get tired. ✦ He's fascinated. But there's one thing he's still confused on. And that's why you decided to hide this from him. He would've loved to work with you more! ✦ And that's the thing. You don't like bringing it up not because it's a touchy subject or anything, but because it usually scare people away. Everyone thinks you're out to get them and their blood, but that's not true. Being half allows you to enjoy human food. And while you can drink blood, you consume stuff like animal blood. ✦ He nods as he takes in your concern. He never thought of it like that. You're out here trying to be friendly and when you show your fangs (metaphorically, unless you did show them) they back away from you. ✦ From now on, he's going to put in so much effort to show his appreciation for you. Some of his gifts are really cheesy. One time, he got you a stuffed bat plush and had the words "Batty for You!" embroidered on one of the wings. You still have it to this day.

[scribespirare]

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

you asked for angst and i delivered >=3 hopefully

Sometimes, Miguel has rough nights.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a step back. Another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could go find Miles, maybe.

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

[mikeyway-creates]

Sooooo UPDATE ON FLORIAN THE FANKID!!!!

I made a chsrscter sheet and such of her~

It looks very rough I know, but it's mildly the thought and creative process thst counts!

Some facts about her and her front, side and back! Along with the colors of her of cource of cource. [Lore under the cut!]

Dr. Robotnik created her as stated, in order to have this perfect ultimate thief to steal the chaos emeralds for him, and potentially kill anyone in his way. She was going to be raised and trained by him to perfectly take out Sonic and others who would stand in his way.

He's worked with Clutch and Nack/Fang on numerous occasions, so it it wasn't the hardest thing to get bits of their DNA here and there to create Florian.

Her project name is Chrysoberyl, referring to how those are a good luck and fortune charm of a gem, and can be roughly mistaken for emeralds. They're also beloved to high-end ones awesrness!

Her cloning tank (??I guess that's what they're called?) Was labeled C-045 because she was the fortyfifth and final attempt at being created. The others simply turned to liquid or never developed properly. Needing robotic parts then shutting down soon after, a real mess in the lab.

While this final attempt to have her "Grow Slower" to ensure she developed right, and with the now mixing of DNA (the others where as just clone attempts no splicing) was perfect on the surface level, it still raised some issues....He never implemented a failsafe into her DNA and never took into account *mild* mutations.

Nothing serious, but when the unlikely and mildly bickering pair that are Clutch and Nack wandering through the twisty halls of Robonik's lab, they accidentally stumbled on the room, and after some sickening horror freed her, and the place ultimately mildly definitely caught fire because of course it did it's just their luck.

The idea of the FailSafe being implemented into her DNA would have just ensured she either A. Didn't make it long outside of the sure before she was ready, or B. Return to him and act in X manner at a certain age....he never did that, because frankly he didn't think of it is all, he never thought anyone would find it.

The "DNA Mutations" aren't much of a mutation, and are very harmless. But there comes an issue when you combine much younger DNA with older DNA, and when one has leg problems* no one knows about.

In other words, even if she stayed in the tube, she would still be wobbly. She's extremely wobbly, and can't do much, granted she's meant to be a baby and toddler ish age? But the fact is, she crawls better than standing, although often tends to curl up and sleep or cry because she needs some little extra knee paddings. Sensitive needy sickly little thing.

Her favorite thing is Clutches Coat. It's what she was wrapped in upon being freed from the chamber, and she is often hiding inside it or holding onto it while he goes about his day like normal. She also likes Nack's hat, it's fun to hide under.

Her other love, are chao! She has a plush chao she carries around/drags and chews on that has a bell inside of it. She's very gentle despite being extramly grabby and bitey...just...likes to chew on stuff and is extramly curious!

Nack named her! Clutch sadly couldn't properly come up with a name, even though it was his idea to save her- it was Nack who named her Florian.

She lives in this Tshiet Nack got her with a Chao on it and it makes Clutch mad because she needs proper clothes outside of a t-shirt that's massive on her and socks..

Clutch got her a necklace she wears constantly and tries to somtimes chew on.

She looooves wrapping her tail around stuff, it makes her extramly happy and she likes to dangle from places for short periods of rime until she gets woozy.

Very wobbly, woozy, dizzy little thing. They think she wasn't quite done in thr tube yet, but can't be certian.

When the lodge gets ultimately destroyed, Clutch actually asks Vanilla to watch Florian while he gets a new place situated and work finished. Nack also is nicer to them all.

Nack is mkre distant wirh Florian becuse he's scared he'll hurt her by accident, but really loves her just is scared is all.

Clutch either had s kid before or always wanted to be a dad because he's instantly good with her and knows exactly what to do.

*[I read that Nack prefers to bounce on his tail because his legs are slow? Or bad and saw a Tumblr post about it and I as the local man who limps took that to heart and decided he has bad legs- thus Florian also has very bad legs.... and also she wasn't done in the tube quite yet.]

[captainsamuelmorrigan]

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

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

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

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

Izzy stops sleeping entirely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rileyssmiles]

Dungeons and Humans

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

AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without turning to address her colleague, Allynna replied,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What!? Are you insa-"

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

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

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

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

"We need to go. Now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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