perawatanwajahlamaraa

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Olivine looked at Trevor with a naughty smile as he handed His husband the suction device to use on him. He was only wearing Trevor's shirt open to show off the chains covering his chest. "Trevi.... did you really want to try that toy out?"

Trevor was looking at his husband then noticed the naughty smile on his lips. He did blush heavily seeing the suction device in his hands. "..I would if your up for it." He smirked seeing how precious he was.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ok I just saw your Vamp!Rhys brain rot headcanons post and I'm letting you know right now if you do not develop them into full blown chapters for Vamp!Rhys I'll literally sue for emotional damages ok thank you <3

lol I suppose I can make that happen ;)

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Ancient Recipes

The bed is, surprisingly, empty when you awaken, the last rays of evening light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. Your hands brush absently through the cold sheets as if they could tell you where he’d disappeared off to. He’s not usually up this early.

With a yawn, you slide out of bed and yank on one of his discarded shirts, leaving the silky button down open down the middle in a half-hearted attempt at decency before padding off in search of him. 

The library and game room is empty, the curtains pulled tight, the air a little stuffy. You can hear Cassian snoring from behind his closed door and a tendril of shadow still guard’s Azriel’s door handle, telling you that he’s not off with either of them this early.

Eventually, you find yourself wandering down into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty too, but figuring it’s worth a shot. You’re surprised to find Rhys bent over the stove, shirtless, sleep pants slung low over his hips as he carefully chops a mix of vegetables. His ears twitch as you walk towards him, a sure sign that he hears your approach. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says without turning. You can hear the pout in his voice without seeing the purse of those full lips you love so much.

“Missed you,” you say as you slide your arms around his waist and bury your head between his shoulder blades.

He sets the knife down long enough to run a hand over where yours hold his waist. “I was coming right back.”

You place a kiss against his spine before leaning around him to get a better view of what he’s doing. “I didn’t know you could cook?”

“I am a thousand years old, Darling,” he purrs. “That’s a long time to not learn how to prepare a meal.”

There’s an old, hand written book propped up against the stone wall, the swirling script fading under the cruel hands of time in a language long forgotten. The pages are brittle and yellow now, the date written in the corner nearly illegible. 

“What are you making?”

Skilled hands throw in diced vegetables and dried herbs into a pot simmering with some sort of red sauce. “Something my mother used to make me,” he says softly. “These are her recipes.”

Your chest tightens. He’d told you about the hunters that had killed his mother and sister not long after that night when those hunters had come for you. He’d, understandably, been on edge since, the encounter bringing up a lot of old memories he hadn’t touched. It’s little surprise that he would try and find some solace here.

“Smells good,” you say. 

He twists and pulls you in front of him, so you can watch as he works. “Can’t find all the right ingredients,” he frowns. “Some of these spices have been lost to time. I think these will work instead. Hopefully.”

Rhys dips a wooden spoon into the bubbling liquid and brings it to your lips, “Try this for me?”

You give it a second to cool before taking a taste, the mixture both earthy and spicy, but deliciously warm. “It’s good!”

“Yes, but is it right?” He insists.

You tilt your head up to look at him, brows raised, “How would I know, Rhysand? By the sound of it, most of the things you’re missing were lost to the world before my parents were even born.”

You think if he was capable of it he might have blushed against the mistake. Instead, he kisses the top of your head. “I suppose I could ask Az.” He licks a bit of the mixture, frowning as he goes, before putting the spoon directly back into the pot. Apparently a key ingredient in ancient recipes is a little bit of saliva. 

A moment later, the shadowy vampire emerges, summoned for this oh so important errand. Azriel’s dark hair is sleep tousled, shadows swirling lazily around his bare shoulders. Any other morning with the two males looking like this you would have climbed them like a tree, but this morning is apparently for other things, as Rhys nearly flings the spoon in Azriel’s direction. 

“What am I missing?” He demands.

Az takes a taste and spits it into the sink. “What did you do?!” He all but shoves the two of you out of the way to reach for the spice rack in the cupboards above your head. “Your mother would have beat you with that spoon.”

“I know!” Rhys huffs. “What did I forget?”

Azriel starts opening old jars of dried herbs and adding them into the pot. “Egg and thyme for one thing, dumbass.”

Rhys grabs the book off the counter and looks more closely at the recipe, keeping one arm around your shoulders to have you close even so. “Oh, yeah I did forget the egg.”

Azriel cracks four of them into the mixture, before throwing in more herbs. “You’re cooking it too high too.”

Rhys brushes his lips over your hair. “Wanted to bring it to you in bed before you woke up.”

You twist and lean up on your toes to give him a proper good morning kiss. “I would have loved it anyway.”

“Human taste buds are disgusting,” Azriel huffs.

You hear Cassian’s footsteps before you see the half-awake vampire stumble into the kitchen. “Are we cooking what I think we are?”

“Not if Rhys has anything to do with it,” Azriel huffs.

“It was for Y/N!” Rhys returns. “I didn’t make enough for everyone.”

“But she’s so good at sharing,” Cassian says with a wink, his sleep thick voice enough to make heat pool between your legs. 

Rhys lifts you up and places you on the counter, beside where Azriel still chops more ingredients, so he can kiss you deeper this time. “Mine.” 

“Not with your cooking she’s not,” Azriel quips. 

Cassian tuts as he comes over to Azriel’s other side and dips a finger into the now simmering pot. Azriel smacks his hand with the back of the wooden spoon and Rhys hisses, fangs glinting in the candlelight.

“How are you supposed to take care of the little human if you can’t even cook her a decent meal?” He brings his fingers to his mouth for a taste, then frowns. “Do neither of you own any peppers at all? What is this, baby food?”

“I added the aleppo, just as the recipe said!” Rhys retorts. 

“You definitely didn’t! Your mother never made anything this bland!” Cassian insists.

“I’m following the recipe!”

Azriel snatches the book, scarred hands thumbing quickly through the pages. “I remember it being spicier.”

Rhys frowns. “Maybe we’re thinking of that other recipe she used to make?”

“No that one was for dinner,” Cassian returns. “I definitely remember a spicy breakfast dish. Especially on cold winter mornings.”

“He’s right,” Azriel chimes in, eyes still glued to the pages. 

“I mean, our tastes did change when we turned, maybe we’re the problem?” Cassian asks, running a hand over his face in thought. 

“Your tastes change when you turn?” You ask.

“A little,” Rhys says with a frown, violet eyes on the dish. “Maybe you’re right, Cass. Did you think it was spicy, Darling?” 

“A little,” you reply. “It could use more, I think, but again, I’ve never tried it before so I’m not exactly an expert.”

Cass peers into the pot. “It looks right.”

Azriel sets the book back on the counter with nothing short of reverence. “Guess it is us.”

Rhys’s face falls, it’s like watching him lose a piece of the past. You take his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. “I think any mother would be proud to know that you loved something so much that you put all this effort into sharing it, whether is tastes the same or not.”

His grin is soft, like the kiss he plants on your lips, taking his time to pull out of it.

“Thank you for sharing a piece of you with me,” you say.

Azriel scoops it up into four small portions, the wooden dishes old and reminiscent of a time long passed. Not the formal dining ware they bring out at parties, but a little piece of home that managed to survive the passage of time. 

It’s delicious, Az had been right about needing the egg and thyme, it brings a more rounded flavor to the dish. But it would have been equally fine if Rhys had brought the first attempt to you in bed, simply because he loved you enough to try and make something for you even when he could not fully enjoy it himself. It tastes all the better because it’s something the four of you can share, can make new memories out of. You certainly will not forget it, not even in the coming change of your mortality. 

“Well now you’ve got me curious for what other ancient recipes you’ve been hiding,” you say as the meal comes to a close. 

“You make us sound like we’re old as dirt,” Cassian huffs. 

You wink up at Rhys as he kisses your temple. “A thousand years is a long time. What else can you make for me?”

[celuere]

I don't know if you have done this already, but could you do hc of vampire Arlecchino? I literally can't stop thinking about this.

Been on a Vampire!Arle brainrot for the last days and UGHHHHHHHHHHJJ DMMNKANDNQND the way she can suck me DRY. Like in my poll I did a few weeks back about what I should write next, I mentioned the option of a Vampire!Arle x Hunter!reader and let me indulge you in my scheming and what you can expect.

Most Vampire Hunter works I’ve read, they somehow always end up being human. Barely a match for a vampire BUT what speaks against another mythical creature hunting for the blood suckers? A Fae for example?

Now, Fae‘s are- well, Faeries just without the wings. Possessing over the same supernatural abilities of a vampire along with a wide range of elemental powers, light/shadow manipulation etc. and over a VERY long lifespan. Known to be unnaturally beautiful beings and their blood-

Their blood is known to be absolutely delectable.

So there is the Hunter Organization of the Fae and the Fatui Clan. The oldest and most dangerous Vampire Clan with its eleven Fatui Harbingers, Arle being a human-turned-vampire through the Tsaritsa and NOW I can get to my headcanons. I sadly can’t go into much details or else I would spoil the plot of my Vampire Arle work💔

slightly suggestive, MDNI

Still hosting the HotH, the orphans being either Vampire fledglings or human children which she had to turn in order for them to survive. She helps them accustom to their life for example how to control and manage their bloodthirst, how to choose their prey correctly and feast on them without killing them accidentally.

Now, since Vampires age completely different than humans, I’d say Arle would have the physical appearance of a 35 yo old woman while already being +1000 years old, meaning she counts as an ancient Vampire already

Actually rarely goes hunting for human blood and prefers animals, but since their blood isn’t as nutritious as human blood, she has to drink way more often than her colleagues. Sometimes if she DOES get hungry for something other than animals she goes out and snatches the first pretty thing on the street she can find.

She‘s a good drinker. Making sure the victim is passed out and buries her fangs into a spot that’s less hurtful, she might be a monster but that doesn’t mean she has to act like one.

Oh but when she gets her hands on the pretty hunter fae that’s been on her ass for the past decades… she may never want anything else. (I don’t wanna spoiler too much😌)

Vampire‘s have their own laws. Some of them for example is that they have a STRICT hierarchy and I mean STRICT. Like an ordinary dude disrespecting her out of nowhere? That‘s a dead man. That also means that the head of the Fatui Clan - the Tsaritsa - has utmost authority. Her word IS the law. That’s not even something Arlecchino wants to defy… well maybe she’ll make an exception for you.

She is possessive of her prey. I mean that with all my heart. Once a Vampire claimed ownership over a certain individual, it‘s by Vampire law their very own property. Any inappropriate approaches by someone else of her kind is deemed hostile and she IS allowed to get rid of them, no matter their status. And she will.

I think I’d be funny to see her turn into a cute little bat. She‘d be so adorable.

She does frown at Childe whenever he just takes a drink in front of her, like no- she doesn’t wanna see that.

But on the other she could not care LESS if Columbina is sitting in front of her and drinking her third man of the day dry. Nuh uh, she doesn’t drink from pretty ladies, she thinks they’re too precious.

A teasing little shit when she gets to have a taste of you. Having you neatly seated in her lap, bare neck exposed to her- goodness you look beautiful when you wait for her to get a drink of you.

Her hands CANNOT stay in one place once she sunk her teeth into your skin. Grabbing onto your hips, then the next they’re running through your hair, opening up your ponytail so she can grab a better handful to tug your head back.

She‘d never just drink from one spot. After your neck she‘d take your hand gently into hers and guides it up to her lips before she buries her fangs into your wrist. Crossed-pupils always watching you, analyzing you before you eventually grow limp from her intake of blood, that’s when she‘ll stop.

She‘d get a drink by biting straight into your tit or your inner thigh but maybe that’s just me.

Afterwards she‘d clean up the bloody bite marks and gently lay you down on your bed, filling you up a glass of strawberry juice (lots of iron, good for your blood) and place it with a bowl of oatmeal on your nightstand. She is caring like that.

If you can’t tell I’m very obsessed with the idea. Sedate me please.

[ahoycaptainautumn]

Fated Mates Part 10 Final

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

The finale. The meeting that has been destined in the stars. Shall you both agree to the mating bond, or go separate ways?

Words seep into your brain and wash it in all this new information. You read and reread the passage on Vampiric Mates as if it could give you anything new. It feels like your brain is processing and then restarting at the last moment. This couldn’t be right, right? If it is, if you two are mates, then Astarion knew. He knew and he didn’t tell you. He didn’t tell you when you met, didn't tell you when you had kissed him. Hells he didn’t even tell you when you fucked in that abandoned temple. You had gone through every step of the mating process without a single inkling of understanding. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to feed this into your earlier rage at Astarion’s dismissal of you. But it honestly just made it make sense. Mates didn’t get to choose whom their mate was destined to be. He didn’t have a choice. He never once had a choice in 200 years and once again the universe did not give him a chance. The moment he tastes freedom, feels the sun on his skin again, he lays eyes on his mate. Not just any average person, a vampire hunter with a thirst for blood. Who damn near kills him in his tent. Were you still upset at being duped? Upset he ran instead of talked to you? Of course, you still wanted to punch him in his stupid perfect elf face. But more so you wanted to talk to him. To know what he felt, if this meant anything to him. If you meant anything to him. At the thought of you not, it made your stomach lurch. You recognize the feeling for what it is. That tightening rope feeling. A bond tie. A tethering to him that sung each time you thought of him or were near him. You had thought yourself just a silly schoolgirl for feeling such a strong emotion with his presence. Now it finally made sense. This whole adventure so far made so much more sense. You stood quickly and took a deep inhale. You needed to make this right. You needed to find him. You needed to find your mate.

-

Astarion tears through his chest once more as he paws his belongings again and again. Everything was here but that damned book. Worse yet, your scent lingered around the chest as if mocking him. He wants to believe it will magically appear under some shirt and silly old Astarion simply missed it. But the back of his mind knew better. He saw the hurt and rage in your eyes last time you saw one another. In that dim tavern stockroom. You had ran from him so fast he had barely a moment to think. By the time he got to camp he could smell you had been there, the one trait he is thankful for with this bond. Your scent trailed from his tent to yours. He hadn’t even thought of why you had been near his tent. Without a second thought he had paced near yours. It wasn’t until he gave up and went to his own tent that he thought more about it. Especially with your scent wrapped inside. That’s how he came to be here, rifling through his own things. Desperately hoping you didn’t see the one thing that carried his secret. Well, both of yours secret. His hand rakes back his perfectly sculpted hair as he tries to catch his breath. He had two options. Find and confront you, which seemed horrible. Or pack a bag and run for the high hills and never look back. As much as that option entices him he realizes he couldn’t even if he wanted to. One being that the tadpole would still be a problem and not one he believes he could fix on his own. Secondly it would mean leaving his mate. A dark gnarled pain twists through his spine at the thought. Even just imagining leaving you, never seeing you again woke some ancient horrible feeling that burrowed deep. Well, that left option one. Astarion stood, he tried and failed to calm his nerves. He was just about to open his tent flap when your hand poked through the opening. You lean into the tent and make eye contact with Astarion. The connection bursts through a feeling of utter euphoria. Both of your bodies flamed with the feeling of the entwined bond. Your skin tingles as if it begs to touch his. He feels the same as his teeth aching to plunge into your delectable neck and claim you as his own. To bite every surface you have exposed. As much as he wants to throw himself at you. To forget words and let his body do the talking, he resists. He was tired of that being his form of communication. Of sex and touch being the way people got to him. Of how they perceived him. He wanted.. more. He had not a single clue what “more” included. But he wanted to try. No matter how much it made his fight or flight trigger deep in his belly. His feet ready to take option two and start running. But instead he clears his throat. You reach behind you and hand the mating book to Astarion.

“I believe this belongs to you.” You start, timidly. Your eyes say it all. Your (e/c) eyes swimming with apprehension. You’re so visibly nervous it reminds Astarion of a tender little lamb. Frightful but curious. Anticipating with anxiety. He, the lion, wanting to gobble the lamb whole.

“I guess that means we need to talk.” He replies, not sure how to start this conversation. You just nod your head, Astarion opens his mouth ready to let whatever words spew from his mouth but you hold a finger up.

“Not here… maybe somewhere private?” You ask. He only nods, ready to follow you anywhere you take him. You hold out a hand to him and await his. He looks down at your open palm. How warm and inviting it is. The thought of even just holding your hand sparking hope in his chest. He knew better than to think this was anything but you letting him down. Of denying wanting to intermingle with someone with as much baggage as him. Someone as damaged as him. He wouldn’t blame you one bit. Really he would think it for the best. For you to break this bond and not go near him; or Cazador for that matter. But then you give him a small smile and usher with your hand once again. He tentatively puts his hand in yours. But maybe he could have just a little hope.

You lead him past your fellow companions' tents holding his hand. A few eyes watch you as you make your way towards the forest. Karlach meets your eyes and gives two big thumbs up which nearly makes you snort if it wasn’t for the anxiety bubbling in your chest. You lead Astarion to a clearing near the flowing river a bit aways from camp. You had grabbed a large plush blanket with throw pillows and laid them out before you had gotten Astarion. For once you wanted something to go right. For a special moment to be curated and simple. Not during a battle or on accident. Not in an abandoned temple or a psychics tent. But an evening of just you and him. Of twinkling stars and the silence of a night-lit blooming forest. However this is to go, whatever his decision may be, it would be between the two of you in a neutral setting. Somewhere you could lay your hearts open to one another. You sit down on the blanket and pat the spot next to him. Astarion sits next to you, craning his neck up to watch the stars alongside you. You both sit in silence for just a few minutes. Enjoying watching the stars in each others company. You wish this is all it could be. But you knew it had to be discussed.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You ask, shifting your gaze from the sky to Astarion. He meets your gaze and you see the flash of anxiety come and go from his eyes. You keep your face neutral as best you can.

“In the spirit of honesty, I don’t really know. I didn’t know what to think or what to do.” He replies with a sigh. He throws his arms behind him and leans back into them. He stares down at the ground as if far away in thought.

“As far as I knew mates were only for true vampires. A rarity for them, not many of them able trust one another to ever find their mate. So naturally being a spawn I thought I couldn’t have one. It simply wasn’t something I ever gave much thought to.”

“And now that you have one?” You prod further. You ache desperately to put a reassuring hand to him. To tell and show how much you support him at this moment. But you didn’t want to persuade him one way or another. Especially not guilt him by any means. He takes a long drag of a breath and continues on.

“I should be asking you this.” You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. He steals a look over to see your confused face.

“Is this, all of this, what you want?” He ushers between the both of you. You can’t help the little grin that reaches your face.

“Am I not obvious enough?” You tease. He grunts in response.

“I don’t just mean the ungodly good sex darling. I understand I come with my…. Complications. Complications that have been quite a thorn in your side.” He dances around the word vampire. Almost fearful to bring up something he knew was his largest flaw. What good does a vampire spawn do as a partner? He was your antithesis. The opposite of your life’s mission. Plus he would go on to live unless someone got fidgety with a stake. You, however, only had so much time. He highly doubted you would join in his immortality. You look lost in thought, tongue stuck out in thought.

“You’re not wrong. I hated all vampires. I didn’t discriminate between them, all of them monsters to me. My father had foolishly thought to gamble with one, to generate more wealth than we would ever need with a debt owed to Cazador. I never found out what he owed him, all I know is that it was grand enough for Cazador to personally come and slaughter my whole family. Besides me. He had said I wasn’t worth his efforts. So when I met you I naturally hated you.” Before Astarion could make a snarky comment you continued.

“But then I got to know you. To see you for more than what you are. That just because you are a vampire doesn’t mean you’re my enemy. If anything you have been quite the opposite.” You finish. You can tell a bit of tension eases from Astarions shoulders.

“So where do we go from here? 200 years and I’ve never known what more was. That there was a “more”. Forgive me if I am a bit out of touch.” Astarion replies. You nudge your shoulder with his.

“That’s fine old man, we can take it slow.” You tease. He frowns at your jest before a soft smile breaks across his pale face. The moonlight illuminates him giving him an ethereal glow.

“We. Us. I like the sound of that.” He replies.

“And no more running away when we need to talk! I might still stake you, you know.” You playfully slap his arm. He fakes being wounded giving you a pout.

“I make no promises, little killer.” He grins. It would be hard for him to break the habit. Preferring running and hiding. But he could try, for you. “Now may I suggest we consummate this mating?” He leans over towards you, hands resting on either side of your hips. His face just a breathe away from you. A slight chuckle falls from your lips.

“I believe we already have.” You tease. He gives you an award winning smile as he leans in closer. His lips brushing ever so slightly against yours.

“Couldn’t hurt to once more, or maybe a few more times.” His eyes dance from yours down to your lips and back up to you. You lick your dry lips as you watch him drink you in.

“Only a few?” You whisper your head barely beginning to turn into his. Half lidded eyes drawn to him.

“Maybe more than that.” His voice is barely there, red eyes blown wide with lust.

“I sincerely hope even more than that.” He grins as you say that.

“Now that, my dear, is something I can promise.” He says as he seals his lips over your own. You greet his lips in earnest. The kiss is sweet. Perfect. Enveloping the longing, the caring that flowed between your bond. Astarion walks his hands forward, pushing your body back onto the blanket. You follow his steps as you tangle your fingers in his hair. He hovers over you, losing himself in the kiss. Astarion had had many lovers but kisses with you were like no other. As if fireworks set off inside of him. Sparks of pure adoration going off within him. He nudged his way between your legs and you gladly let him. His leg swings upwards, pushing your other leg farther away. His groin comes in contact with your clothed center. Chest to chest, you groan into the kiss. One of his hands comes to glide down to your waist and grip your hip. The other holding himself up by the forearm. You trace down his neck before slipping your hands to his front. You trace his body slowly till you meet the hem of his shirt. You glide your hands under and place your hands flat against his abdomen. Though he feels always a bit cool you feel nothing but flames. You trace random patterns along his front. He deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth. His grip on his hip massaging the tender flesh there. Your hands go higher, nudging him to remove his shirt. He grins into your kiss as he leans back. He grabs his shirt and all but rips it off his body.

You stare awe-struck at him. The way his body is so beautifully sculpted as if he was a statue in a museum. Chiseled to perfection by the universe's best artist. His curly white hair disheveled, flowing with the slight breeze. His eyes hungry and trained on you, gauging your constant reaction. His hands find the ends of your shirt and he teasingly strokes it upwards in slow motions. You lean up and watch him take your shirt completely off. His hand reaches to your jaw as he leans in for another kiss. All the while you begin to loosen his trousers.

“So needy.” He teases into your lips between kisses. You smile and break the kiss. You lean up to and press your lips near his pointed ear.

“I can’t help that I want my mate.” You whisper to him. He shudders at your words. Mate. Gods the title sounded so good coming from you. He nibbles down your neck in earnest. Leaving love bites and hickeys in his trail. He ruts his hips into yours. His hands go all over. Touching every inch of exposed skin he can access. Kneading and caressing every part of you. Your hands wander his body as if touching it for the first time. Mapping out as if you could forget it. His kisses travel across your collarbone and to your sternum. One of his hands comes up to softly play with your breast. His hand kneading the soft skin. Occasionally his fingers come up to twist your nipple in a delcious rhythm. You grind against him in desperation for more touch. For more of him. Your fingers undo his pants and begin to tug as much as you can in your position. Astarions lips come up to your perked nipple and begin to suck. His eyes trained on yours to gauge your reaction. You throw your head back in ecstasy as a rough moan escapes your mouth. You make no show of covering any sounds, letting Astarion hear how good he makes you feel. His hand plays with your opposite breast as he sucks and bites at your sensitive bud. You writhe, desperation growing in you. The fire he builds inside you is quickly building to an inferno.

“Please Astarion.” You whine. He comes off of you with a wet pop before he stands. He makes quick work of his pants and immediately kneels and sweeps yours off just as fast. You lay bare to one another. Basking in the moonlit glow of each others naked bodies. Astarions eyes drink you in. A soft look on his face, adoration evident.

“You’re beautiful.” He tells you. You give a wide grin before you open your arms and usher him closer. He immediately follows and finds himself between your legs again. Though he brings himself much lower than before. His face resting just above your heat. You watch his actions and you can feel your breath catch. His eyes stare hard into yours as he brings his tongue out and licks. The flat of his tongue going from the bottom to the top of your slit. Your nails dig into the blanket as you arch your back. Astarion devours you like a man starved. Spreading your folds with his fingers to delve deeper. His tongue caresses your insides sending shivers up your spine. You cry out his name like a prayer.

“Ah- A- astarion!” You cry over and over again. It only spurs him on, chasing your ecstasy to get you to your high. His fingers join in his ministrations as he plunges two fingers into your wet opening. He curls ever so slightly as he motions a come hither inside of you. All the while his tongue laps and sucks at your clit. The stimulation is all too much, your whole body buzzing.

“Astarion- ahh- I’m gonna-“ you can barely moan out, your whole body too consumed in rapture.

“Cum my love, show me how good I make you feel.” He purrs against your skin. You reach your climax, cumming on his fingers. He works you through it, slowing his fingers' pace. He looks up at you to see your lust filled face. He leans upwards to catch you in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips. It sends a thrill through you.

“Astarion please- I need you.” You cry, arms grabbing at him senselessly. It’s as if you forgot all sense, Astarion the only thing that mattered. The only thing that exists.

“Oh with pleasure, my mate.” He gives you a devilish grin. You clench at his words. Mate. God you could listen to him call you that a thousand times and not get sick of it. He lines himself up with your entrance, using your slick to lube himself properly. He enters you slowly as you both moan wantonly in union. You wrap your hands around his neck to hold onto something. His arms hold himself up by the back of his forearms on either side of your head. Your bodies touch as he rocks into you. It’s intimate. Something very foreign for Astarion. Everything he had done was quickies. Hard and fast to reach a climax to be finished with. But you. Oh you he wanted to take his time with. To ruin you, completely and wholeheartedly. To mark you as his in every crevice and nook of your body. That his signature would be branded so deeply into your skin no other man would even think to come near you. You are his entirely. His hips speed up in rhythm. Skin slapping onto skin echoing with your shared moans.

“Say it again.” Astarion grunts out. His eyes find yours, begging. You swallow dryly. The bond is so strong in this position, in this eye contact. As if your body thrums with it. You would give him the world and stars if he asked for it at this moment. But you already knew what he wanted.

“Astarion, my mate.” You reply. He groans, biting his lower lip. His hips speed up, becoming sloppy. Your body is wrecked in pleasure.

“Again.” He growls.

“My mate. Mine.” You say once again. At that Astarions fangs plunge into your soft neck. Stars line your vision. You feel out of body. Lost in a sea of utter pleasure. You reach your finish together, Astarion spilling his seed inside of you. The bond ties tightly between you both. Unbreakable. You hug his body close as you come down from your high. He releases from your neck and moves to lay next to you. Your hands intertwine as you look up at the stars together. Both attempting to catch your breath.

“Well, what now darling?” He asks you between puffs of air. He looks over at you. Those crimson eyes full of adoration.

“Well. I guess we save the world.” You reply with a chuckle. He squeezes your hand.

“I think we are going to have a lot of fun together.”

Part 9 here

———-

I really hope you guys enjoyed the series! I will be focusing on one shots and requests from here on out! Also if you got the Twilight reference give me a holla!

[spacebarbarianweird]

ASTARION X IMMORTAL NECROMANCER I AM ACTUALLY BEGGING. SINCE THEYRE BOTH IMMORTAL AND HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE DEAD I THINK IT WOULD BE FUN!!!!!!!

Astarion x Necromancer!Durge

Masterlist

Headcanons

You don't want to remember the past.

Whatever it was, it was only blood and gore in honor of Bhaal.

You don't want to do anything about it. It's not you anymore.

You have the right to be someone else, not your father's creation.

Just as Astarion has the right not to be an evil creature of the night.

You give up the profane gift of Bhaal, and he takes away your life.

The last thing you remember is Astarion's scream. 

You awake, reborn and free.

Immortal. The champion of Jergal.

Astarion kneels beside you, his face red with tears. He says nothing, just embraces you, rocking you in his arms.

Years ago, Astarion prayed. He begged for mercy.

That someone would save him, that someone would help him.

Maybe Bhaal heard him after all and helped him in his own twisted way?

Sent him you?

You were both made for death and pain. Vampires are innately evil. Bhaalspawns are the chaos unleashed.

Two spawns. Two killers. Two doomed beings.

You have made your choice. Your path to the light is not a matter of morality or saving the world.

Your path to the light is the pursuit of freedom.

Astarion's freedom is to defy his master.

Your freedom is to defy Bhaal.

You leave Baldur's Gate hand in hand. Immortal and free.

Mostly you are being adventurers, but sometimes, usually after a century, you settle down together, trying to be normal people.

You don't know who you are, what you like, or what you want.

Astarion is constantly trying to help you relax, to give you something you have never had.

You do the same for him.

Your necromantic abilities have stayed with you, and you use them in your work as an adventurer.

In the end, you're an odd couple. Two anti-heroes. If you need to rescue a kidnapped princess, you don't expect a vampire and a necromancer to help you in that endeavor.

You both have nightmares.

Astarion remembers his past and you see horrible shades of past murders and wake up screaming and scratching your skin.

Sometimes the nightmares are so horrible that you run off into the forest reckless and wild, and Astarion has to search for you, risking his own life in the sunlight.

Of course, it's hard to live in harmony with each other. Sometimes you just piss each other off. Maybe once every two or three centuries.

Then you break up and drift apart.

Sooner or later (usually after a century or two) one of you gets lonely.

But how do you find an ancient vampire who is so good at pretending to be something he isn't?

How do you find Champion of the god of death?

You hire monster hunters to go in search of Astarion.

He hires spies.

You both tell them crazy stories. About how you're both dangerous and cruel, and that monster hunters shouldn't do anything stupid, but should let the clients deal with the targets.

The hunters expect bloodshed from you.

But instead, you throw yourselves into each other's arms like young lovers.

You start anew, as tender and passionate as you were at the beginning of your relationship, and give each other several more centuries of happy life together.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

[magicalqueennightmare]

Why?

(Eventual) Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

When you're hurt and it's not a product of a hunt you intend to hide away and lick your wounds in private but a certain Mikaelson begins to worry and comes to your rescue.

The first knock at your door you disregarded. Surely it was your neighbor or maybe someone with a wrong address. You rented a small place just outside of the french quarter after all so people having a few too many and reading addresses wrong was a usual occurrence.

You were sore over every inch of your body. You were fairly sure nothing was broken but that knowledge didn't stop the pain that every slight movement caused. More than the pain was the embarrassment that this injury had come at the hands of humans. How could you have slipped up that bad?

You'd nearly fallen back asleep when your phone started to ring. You groaned from the effort of pushing yourself up to a sitting position and reached for it.  The moment you saw the caller id you cursed. It was Elijah. You'd avoided him for the better part of the last week but one of his siblings must have caught wind that you'd made it back in town. You didn't want him to see you hurt. You'd tried to always have your feet under you around the ancient vampire. 

He knocked you off balance so you covered it expertly with vague threats and sass. You weren't up to the usual repertoire between the two of you.

You took a deep breath and hoped it wouldn't show in your voice how exhausted you truly were “Elijah Mikaelson, to what do I owe the privilege?” “My darling little hunter. I heard from my sister that you've been in town for nearly a week. Are you avoiding me by chance?” You shifted in the bed and a groan escaped your lips. You closed your eyes praying he hadn't heard. “Not avoiding you. Just been busy”

He was silent for a moment and the thought hit you that maybe he'd hung up until he spoke “Care to answer the door then?” shit, he was the person at your door. “I'll come by later. Just make sure Klaus knows so it's not an announced thing”  “Come to the door” you could feel the pull in his voice and tsk-tsked “Now now Elijah. You promised a long time ago to not try to compel me. Besides I've got enough wards tattooed on me it's next to impossible even for a vampire of your age” 

“Please come to the door” he tried again and you could tell how much it took for him to add the please. “Ok” you hung up the phone and glanced around the room. Your oversized hoodie looked like the best option so you tugged it on over the sports bra and shorts you were currently wearing. It hit mid thigh and with the hood up covered most of your bruises along with the black eye and how swollen the left side of your face was. 

You slowly walked across the small space to your front door and unlocked all three locks before swinging the door open to reveal the vampire standing at your door. Elijah was always impeccably dressed, today he was wearing a black tailored suit which fit him in a way that would've practically made your mouth water any other day.  He had some stubble gracing his chiseled jaw which just added to how handsome he truly was. 

A slight smirk started to slip across his face when he looked in your door but it quickly fell when his eyes met yours.  “Invite me in” Elijah had come to your place a few times but you'd never extended an invite. It caused too much of a risk. You were welcome in the home he shared with his siblings despite you being a hunter and them originals. 

You shook your head slowly but that made the room tilt and you were forced to grab the door frame for support. “Invite me in” he repeated. You managed a weak laugh “You gonna finish me off Mikaelson?” His eyes narrowed so you decided screw it if he threw the niceties to the side and did snap your neck at least you wouldn't be hurting anymore “Come into my home Elijah” 

The moment he crossed the threshold he pushed your hood down and you saw the monster that always lurked just below the surface darken his eyes “Did this occur on a hunt?” You dropped your eyes “Yeah” you felt him move before his fingers ever so gently graced your chin, pulling your face up where you had no choice but to look him in the eye “I'm going to ask once more and make my question more direct. Who or what did this to you?”

You swallowed hard under his gaze. You didn't want to tell him. It was a couple dozen dirty cops. They wanted to use hunters as guns for hire. Technically most hunters had faked their deaths already so who better to pull off kills then the dead? “A few people who wanted me to work for them and I refused”

“Humans did this? My dear I've seen you fight” you nodded slightly, a grimace gracing your face due to the movement causing another wave of dizziness “They caught me by surprise and a taser is very much a field evener for us mere humans” 

It occurred to you that he was still holding your face so you tried to move away from him but you swayed slightly and before you could protect he was picking you up bridal style. “You need to see a doctor” “No insurance” you mumbled, trying to fight the urge to lay your head against his chest as he carried you over to your bed, pulling the blanket back to lay you down. 

He sat down gently on the side of the bed and motioned to the hoodie “May I?” You nodded and felt him pull the soft material up your body. His touch made goosebumps rise across your flesh and you hoped he'd mistake the way your heart started to beat faster for pain. “I'll bring one to you. Need to ensure you don't have any internal damage then you're going to tell me who exactly was involved” 

“Why do you care, Elijah?” You asked and he simply smiled before pulling the hoodie back down “Perhaps I've allowed myself to become fond of the fact that you're not afraid of me. Quite the opposite you don't mind reminding me just how many of my kind you've killed. You're a hunter, I've made peace with that but this? This isn't your job, this was an attack that deserves an answer and I will gladly deliver one” 

You nodded slowly then asked “Are you gonna pay a doctor or compel one?” He shrugged “Whichever works better” you motioned to where your jacket laid “Keys are in the right hand pocket. Lock the door when you leave then let yourself back in” “I'll be back soon” He promised and you knew he would. He would come back with a doctor and if you asked he'd slaughter anyone who'd ever hurt you, the question was why? 

Closer

[crazyintheeast]

Ok but consider this for a writing prompt. A lonely unhinged and horny girl with nothing more to lose decides she really really wants to get bitte by a vampire and goes on a quest to make her dream come true. She goes to the most dangerous region full of vampire attacks, dresses in her sexiest dress she can find and then just walks around at night. But instead of getting bitten ......vampires avoid her like the plague because they all believe that she is a vampire hunter trying to lure them into a trap.

And after spending a few nights frutilessly trying to get bitten she realises that the vampires have fled from the region. So she goes to the next one and he same thing happens again. Instead of finally making her dream come true and biting her all the vampires simply flee. She gets a reputation as a deadly vampire hunter and she kind of goes along with it because why not? She gets paid handsoemly, she gets free lodings and honestly she could work with the fantasy of being a vampire hunter who gets ravaged by a vampire

So she gets some cheap armor and weapons and calls herself Vampire Hunter now. The weak vampires flee again but Masters Vampires come up to take the challenge. But every time a Master Vampire challenges her she proceeds to drop her weapons take off all her clothes and tell them to get her which absolutely freaks them out. They had heard legends of berseker warriors who fought naked and they didn't want this kind of crazy

Her legend began to spread,some began to say that she was an a demi goddess who had come to Earth to slay vampires, some said that she was a legendary warrior from Ancient Times some even said that she was the long lost Vampire Queen. This last rumor piqued the interst of the Vampire King. The Vampire King was a warrior who had dedicate his entire immortal existence to become the most powerful fighter in the world, the only one who could ever match him had been his Queen. He had killed her over three thousand years ago in a fierce battle that lasted two months on the North Pole with neither of them sleeping or eating. It had been a glorious culmnination of their love so to hear that someone was mentioned alongisde his Queen made him take action

Unlike the other vampires he had not been intimidated when our heroine stripped naked. On the contrary he had fought several bersekers over the millenia and while none had ever matched him they had been an amusing fights. The King had mastered ever martial arts in history of mankind to the point where he needed to only look at an oponnent to know how the fight would unfold. The slightest twitch of their muscles, the way they held themselves even the way they would breath would tell the King everything he needed to know. It had been five hundred years since he had needed more then a single move to defeat an oponent

But when he saw our heroine he froze. Nothing about her made sense. He expected her to have an opening or two. All true masters would leave openings to lure their oponent into a false sense of security. But here? They were countless openings, if he didn't know better he could swear that this woman didnt know how to fight at all. But no this was impossible, he couldn't smell even a hint of fear from her and he could feel how her blood was boiling in antication. There was only one expalnation. He was facing an oponnent so vastly superior that he was to her what a mere ant was to him. It was pointless to fight when he couldn't see through even a single one of her actions "At last my dream has come true. I have seen the perfect warrior. My apologies but my pride won't allow anyone else to take my life" he says and then he just kill himself releasing a wave of darkness all over the land . Every vampire in a hundred mile radius feels the death of their king and they flee in terror

The King's Hand was miserable the way she had been for the last fifty years. She had been a master blacksmith forging the best weapons in the world before the Vampire King kidnapped her and turned her into a vampire. Ever since then she had been his personal servant forced to create and maintain his weapons and to deal with his entire castle. The King only cared about being a warrior so it was just the two of them in the castle and she had to clean, she had accept tributes from all other vampires and to give them the commands of the King and a thousand other things...it was exhausting.

She had been almost happy to go on a trip to find this famous vampire hunter because frankly anything was better then maintaining a huge castle by herself and having to listen to a whiny Vampire King going on about past battles. She had not expected what they found. The girl was clearly a horny idiot without an ounce of self preservation. She expected the King to be furious and to go on a rampage but instead....he had killed himself. She just stared at the sheer idiocy of what happened only to witnes the girl start sneezing from the ashes of her master so hard that she slipped and knocked herself out. That couldn't have just happened right? The world was not this stupid right? After taking a few moments to collect herself she saw two possibilities in front of her. She could kill the idiot girl herself and try to make a name among the vampire community but she had never actually killed anybody and the thought of fighting all her life was exhausting. The other possibility was too crazy and stupid to even consider but.....what if she turned the idiot girl and presented her as the long lost Vampire Queen? Could this work?

[indierpgnewsletter]

New Games from April and May 2024

It’s been another great couple months for new games. If this is the first post like this that you’re seeing: every two months I highlight around ten games that were newly released on itch.io. I hear about most of these games through this form.

A Terrible Fate: A FitD game about cursed adventurers doomed to re-live the same three days until they stop the world from ending. Uses magical masks, inspired by Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. (@theresattrpgforthat / Mint-Rabbit)

Against the Monster: A story game about a monster hunt, the good of the monster, and the monstrosity of the hunters. Based on For the Queen. Comes in English & German. (Jasmin Neitzel and Andrea Rick, Plotbunny Games)

Numberless Secrets: An expansion for Hearts of Wulin that adds a Brindlewood Bay style mystery mechanic to the game of wuxia melodrama. For fans of Ancient Detective and such. (Lowell Francis, Age of Ravens Games)

Down the Road Through the End of the World: A game about people on a desperate journey through a post-apocalyptic world, looking for a haven. Based on Psi*Run. (Kodi Gonzaga)

Last Train To Bremen: A storytelling game of doomed musicians and poor decisions. One shot for 4 players exactly, using Liar’s Dice. From Caro Asercion, the designer of i’m sorry did you say street magic.

Deep in a Matrix of Flesh and Metal: A FitD game of crime and cyber-horror, where you and your crew of down-and-outs will try to become the biggest fish in the overcrowded pond that is Zone Zero, or die trying. (Calum Grace)

The Adventures of Gonan: A cute and innovative adventure game based on a fictional kids fantasy TV show, using a scene based structure that looks a bit like Yazeba’s Bed and Breakfast. (Tragos Games)

Into the Blind: A scifi horror hack of Trophy that twists it to tell stories like Alien and other genre classics. (Riley Daniels/Sick Sad Games)

Full Spectrum: An expansion for Spectres of Brocken, the mecha game of former friends turned enemies. This contains a collection of alternate settings and scenarios for the base game. (Austin Taylor, Arisia Santiago, Ethan Yen, Fin Coe, Juliet L’mous, Mike Balles, Valis Teoh, Aaron Lim)

The Pact: A two-player game poem about best friends, one of whom becomes a vampire at some point in their life. Players explore their relationship & find out what they’ll do to keep a childhood promise… (Marc Majcher / Majcher Arcana)

And as a bonus, a game I contributed to, Chiron’s Doom is out. It’s a storytelling game about an ill-fated expedition to explore a mysterious monument. Can be played solo or up to 3 players. It’s pretty neat!

(This first appeared on the Indie RPG Newsletter.)

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ 2

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine. Part 1

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮 Note: I got Constantine on my brain, y'all! �� I write about vampire hunters all the time, but never from the vampire perspective. This was new. I hope you enjoy!🧡

2. whoever drinks my blood has eternal life

In the end, he was too late.

Oh, he killed them all, wiping out the entire coven with his magical holy shotgun, and a handy spell that basically burned the remaining undead to a crisp around you.

But you were already half dead, drained and forced to drink their blood in kind.

You were well on your way to becoming one of the Damned.

John knew this, as he cradled your cold body in his arms, carrying you like a bride to the cab outside the warehouse. He knew it as he held you close in the backseat, reciting ancient prayers over your fevered brow, hoping just this once God might grant him a good miracle, and not forsake one of his children just because of an unlucky twist of fate.

Your only crime, as far as he knew, had been extending the mercy of your kindness towards him, and that should not have earned you this.

He barely thanked Chas for a job well done, carrying you bridal style up the stairs of your apartment building. Rather than return you to your bed, he brings you to his. He doesn’t know if the vampire who you must have inadvertently invited into your home died that night, and all his holy weapons are at hand in his own space.

He lays you down in his bed, wishing he’d washed his sheets more recently for you. He wishes a lot of things, in the interim hours that follow.

He can tell that his incantations are not touching the dark magic that is taking hold of you, and he knows that he should just put an end to it here and now. You are damned, and there’s no going back, and who knows what chaos you will reap with your new thirst when you wake?

He can’t bring himself to do it.

Looking down at you, huddled in a ball, trembling as your body is dying and remaking itself anew—he falls to his knees to talk to God, though his words aren’t exactly a prayer. “Our father, who art in heaven…fuck you. I hope you're happy, asshole. Another innocent who you should have protected, fucked over by your stupid games. Why? Why is it always the good ones? I hate you. Amen.”

He takes your hand in his, and only because you are practically unconscious in the fever-pitch of your transformation, does he let his eyes fill with silent tears.

One more soul he was too late to save.

One more weight upon his conscience.

He cries for you. For himself. For the impossible odds God and the Devil pit against humans, then punish them when they're just not up to the task. Flesh is weak, but They made you this way. None of it is fair.

Constantine has never actually been present at a Turning. He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how you’ll act when you come out of it. He has crosses and holy water to keep you in line if he has to…or maybe you’ll rip out his throat, and he will absolutely deserve it after what he let happen to you.

He wonders how the vampires knew about you. Did they watch through the window from some impossible perch, as you made love? Maybe he would never admit it out loud, but that was what that merciful night together had felt like, with you.

This was a hell of a reminder, as to why he couldn’t ever let anyone get close.

It never ended well.

Fully clothed, shoes and all, he spoons your smaller body with his arm around your waist, and waits.

***

When at last you wake, the first thing you are aware of is a heartbeat, right next to you. Behind you. Pressed against you. You hear it like a drum, thundering in your ears. There is a grinding pain in your belly. You are so hungry.

You do not recognize your surroundings, or the bed you lay in. A heavy arm is draped over your waist. You study the large hand upon the sheets, long fingered, veiny. Maybe you know that hand.

Slowly you turn, to find John Constantine beside you. He looks up at your through hooded dark eyes. He was dozing, but no longer.

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and the smells that hit you: his aftershave, sweat, deodorant, dirty sheets, scotch whisky in the kitchen. Old Chinese food. But most of all, you can smell his blood, and it is the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled.

You lean towards him, mouth open, hands reaching.

You don’t know that your incisors have lengthened to deadly little points.

Casually, John holds up a little crucifix between you. You feel it like a hand pressing back against you, and instinctively you flinch.

What is going on with you?

“John?”

You feel something long brush your lip, and you reach up to touch your teeth, finding the sharp points. Your eyes go half-dollar round as you nearly cut yourself with the tip of one.

“What happened to me?”

He sighs, and there is so much weight and sorrow in that one exhalation of air.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“John?” The panic in your voice starts to rise.

“Shh. Don’t get excited. It won’t be good.”

A rampaging new vampire was the last thing he needed on his hands.

“Those things took me,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. You start to remember what happened, those creeps who snatched you from your apartment, the impossible things you saw. They were monsters. Vampires. Things you only thought existed in folklore, books, bad B movies. And they’d told you a little about John Constantine too. That he was some sort of demon hunter, crazy as that fucking sounded, who clearly they wished to do harm to.

“Yeah.” 

“They took me,” you repeat with emphasis, still trying to understand.  

A longer pause, pregnant with lots of words you sense he doesn’t quite know how to say.

Again, he settles for, “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“I guess…they thought that you mean something to me.” 

After everything that happened, this hits you like a knife between the ribs, a long sharp blade aimed right for your heart.

“Do I not?” 

“Come on, I didn't mean it like that.” 

Yes he did, and you realize... that maybe he's just like all the others. 

At least he'd warned you. 

You just...had hoped, anyway, like the stupid little romantic you are. 

You look down, unable to meet his eyes. 

You kind of want to cry, but you're not even sure you can anymore. 

“I came for you as soon as I knew,” he says quietly, not liking this at all.

You nod, your lip quivering.

“What's going to happen to me?” 

The haunted way he looks at you rends your heart in two.

“We'll…figure it out.” 

“I'm hungry...I think.”

He nods gravely. 

“I was afraid of that.”

“What am I going to do?” 

“I'll...try to help you.”

Your eyes go to his throat again. The thought should be gross, but...you just feel hunger pangs, instead—and a confusing wave of desire.

He notices the focus of your attention, and looks uneasy about it. Your eyes have started to glow.

“Why don't we start with the wrist?” he deadpans, not enthused about your untried razor-sharp fangs in his throat.

You nod shakily, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry,” you say. 

There's a flicker in John's soulful brown eyes, and though he says nothing, you feel his guilt as though it's your own. You feel it crawling over your skin, and it scares you. 

What is happening to you? 

“Come on,” he says gruffly. “Let's get this over with.” 

You've seen the movies, and you’re not a total idiot. But the thought of actually...biting him? And drinking his blood? It freaks you out, ok, even if every cell in your body is singing out for you to swallow him down. The smell of him. You'd thought it was intoxicating before. Aftershave, spice, and cigarette smoke. The smoke was good only because it ticked some deep buried memory box in your subconscious. But now...it’s like you can sense the strength of his very soul, in the smell of his blood, and you know he will nourish you. 

These thoughts come to you unbidden, and you don't even really know what they mean. Just... that they are unequivocally true.

You take his wrist, the blue veins there seeming to dance for your new improved vampire vision, as though you can see the blood pumping within them.

This is so fucking weird.

“You’re going to be really strong now,” he cautions you. Then, the corner of his mouth ticks. “So be gentle with me.”

Your eyebrows raise at the thought that you could actually hurt him. This big, strong man who threw you around not so long ago like you were just a doll. You’d loved that, truth be told. The memory is so sweet that it almost makes you want to cry again.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You should do it now,” he says. “Because you’re just going to get hungrier, and young vampires when they’re hungry are at their most dangerous. I’d hate to have to—”

He cuts himself off before finishing that thought. Your eyes drift to his nightstand, the holy water, crucifixes, and a broom handle piece that has been sharpened into a nice neat stake. Just in case he has to shove it through your heart.

“Could you do that to me?” you ask quietly before you can stop yourself, still staring at the stake.

“I don’t want to find out,” he deflects. “So come on. Pull up your big girl panties.”

You glare at him, taking his wrist again. “I think I have a right to be freaked out about this.”

“Sure, but it is what it is,” he fires back unkindly. “You’re a vampire now. You have to drink blood to survive, and you’re Damned. Welcome to the club.”

You frown at him, your eyes flashing dangerously. You notice him tense, his attention flicking over to the stake on the bedside.

“You’re afraid of me now,” you marvel. 

“A little, yeah.”

“And I should be afraid of you? They told me what you are.”

“Let’s agree to have a healthy respect of one another, alright?”

You sit quietly, contemplating him. With his wrist in your grasp you can feel the thump thump of his pulse through your entire body, like bumping bass out of a speaker. It is distracting, and as you think about what you must do a warmth rises in you, a tingling rush of power that spreads from your fingers into his arm. It makes him shudder, his pupils suddenly blown wide with desire.

This feels good. Better than the fear, although you’re ashamed to admit, that had been delicious too.

You don’t know how you’re doing any of this. It’s just happening, and you let your new instinct take you, straddling his narrow hips to find his burgeoning erection straining against his slacks. You are still wearing the sundress those creatures took you in, and nothing but the thin cotton of your panties barricades the space between you and him.

He is so handsome, and strong. His blood smells so strong, and it fills you with an aching desire, wetness flooding between your legs. Suddenly the desire to bite him while he is inside you grips you like an iron fist, some ancient knowledge of arcane pleasure pulsing through your veins. You blink, the urge receding only slightly, and you do not know it but your eyes glow like coals. It’s strange, how your body feels cold, except where your skin is touching his. Your points of contact are almost searing, in comparison.

“Y/n…”

“What?” you taunt him. “You don’t want me now that I’m a monster?”

You can still hardly believe this is really happening to you.

“I think you can feel that’s not the case.”

Again, you sense his fear, cloyingly sweet upon your tongue. You like it, and that is the thing that brings you back to yourself. Wanting anyone to be afraid of you is so opposite your true nature that it shocks you.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you apologize again, squeezing your eyes closed.

“It’s alright,” he says in that deep voice of his.

It’s not. It’s really not.

“Just…can we get this over with, please?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He’s not going to help you now, believe me. Just…go slow, ok? Don’t bite me too hard. I need use of my hand still, if you don’t mind.”

You let out a shuddering breath. It feels weird, and you realize…you don’t need to breathe? Taking in air is a reflex, but there’s no effect of your body processing oxygen.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay. I’m going to do it.”

“Any day now.”

“Shut up.”

This is the thing that actually makes him smile, that slight curl of lips that is like a full-on grin for most people. Maybe it’s stupid—but it gives you courage.

You graze his skin with your new sharp teeth, and like a beachcomber searching for treasure with a metal detector, you just sense the sweet spot. You move as carefully as you can, pressing down into his flesh to make two neat little holes.

The spill of blood is divine, and you don’t have time to think that it’s gross. It fills your mouth and it is good, and you are so hungry, and you can’t get enough. The magic in this bloodletting rises like a tide, desire crashing over the both of you in a tingling, intoxicating rush. You feel everything, and there is no extricating the sexual pleasure from the gustatory. They are one and the same with this man, his delicious, powerful blood filling your mouth, his strapping body beneath yours, his hips bucking against you.

You feel his hand slide up your thigh, his thumb seeking the molten center of you. When he makes himself stop just short of your panty line you whine in protest, straining for his touch, but he resists your goading, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. Perhaps you should be grateful, that he is strong enough to resist the pull of this magic between you, trying not to debauch you while you feed for the first time and everything is new and you have no idea what is happening. And yet, you can hardly think past how wonderful it would be to have his teeming erection buried inside you to the hilt while you drink him down.

You would tell him all this, but you can’t bring yourself to separate your mouth from the font of his delectable lifeblood. In fact, you don’t know how you’re going to stop, period.

It’s just so good.

John watches you through heavy lidded eyes, seemingly enjoying this as much as you are. Yet he has more sense of the situation as well, and when he tells you, “That’s enough, y/n,” an inhuman keening of protest escapes from deep in your throat.

“Y/n…” he warns again, his words thick with desire. “You have to stop.”

You close your eyes, telling yourself just one last mouthful.

That was two long sucking draughts ago.

Suddenly you feel a searing heat very near your face. Startled, your eyes fly open to find the crucifix there before you, and you hiss in answer, scrabbling back on the bed away from the holy item. With John Constantine’s blood on your lips you cower, shielding your eyes with a hand.

With a shuddering sigh he lowers the cross, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. He presses a tissue against his wrist, and your eyes are drawn to the crimson stains flowering on the wad of paper beneath his fingers.

What a waste, you think, before shaking the thought away.

Then the horror of what could have happened dawns on you.

You could have drank him dry, and in the heat of the moment you would have done it gladly.

Oh God. What have you become?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “Are you ok?”

He actually has the gall to smirk at you, as though any of this could be funny. “Yeah. Not the first time I’ve lost a little blood.”

There’s some inside joke in that statement you don’t understand, though you sense the darkness of self-deprecation in it.

Somehow, you feel simultaneously sated, and horrible. With a whimper you curl up at the foot of his bed, closing your eyes against the world. You can feel everything. You sense the people in the building, the fragile sound of their juicy little hearts beating. Even outside, the life on the street, men and women going about their lives with no idea what lurks in the shadows, wanting to eat them up…

But most distracting of all, the sheets beneath you smell like John, and the lust in your blood has yet to abate, even if the feeding is over. You feel it marching across your skin like red-hot ants. The desire to crawl up the bed and press your bloody lips to his is real, and you fight it with everything you have, because you don’t imagine he’d appreciate that very much after what he’s done for you. The sour expression on his face did not match the size of the tent in his pants, that is for sure.  

You wonder, is it going to be like this every time you eat from now on? The thought does not thrill you.

“Hey,” he goads softly, and your eyes fly open to regard him. Again, your irises shine like lanterns, fueled by the roil of emotions warring in your heart. “Come here.” He holds out one of those beautiful hands to you. Hands that you had so relished upon your body, on your flesh, in your hair…hands with such thick, beautiful blue veins…

You’re not sure how he knows that you want to be held, but now you fear it too. You fear what you are, and your ability to control yourself around him. Because the truth is you still want him very much, and he’d basically told you point blank that you mean nothing to him. The thought weighs on your heart now like a thousand stinging needles, and you feel your eyes fill with moisture of some kind.

So, vampires can cry after all.

You touch a finger to the corner of your eye, and see it comes away tinted red.

You kind of want to throw up.

“Maybe…I should go,” you say sadly, sitting up. You’re certain you look as disheveled as you feel. Your hair is a bird’s nest. Your once pretty floral sundress is dirty and torn. No wonder he doesn’t want you.

“If…you want.” Why does he sound sad about it? Shouldn’t he be glad to see the backside of you? Constantine the Demon Hunter? If you’d been nothing but a one-night fuck as a human, he certainly didn’t want to spend time with you now.

 “You know you’re going to need a dark place to rest for the day?”

Is he actually worried about where you’re going to sleep?

“Okay.” You think you can manage that, in your apartment next door. Or maybe…you’ll see what happens, if you watch the sun rise. Maybe it would just be better that way. Are vampire suicides double damned? You’ve never really been a religious person, but he’d said it like it was A Thing.

It reminds you of what John had said earlier. “What did you mean before? When you said join the club?”

He sighs, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the night stand. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Feeling like you’ve now been dismissed, you slide from the bed, standing on bare feet. You should be sore, but your movements are lithe, liquid as a cat’s.

Something else to get used to.

You can feel Constantine’s eyes glued to you, and you dare to take one last look back, waiting to turn to a pillar of salt. He’s so handsome it hurts, even in his rumpled state, his cuffs rolled up his forearms and his tie loose around his neck. How do his soulful dark eyes seem to hold all the sorrow of the world right now?

“Bye, John.”

He just nods, and you let yourself out.

***

Much to your surprise, ten minutes before dawn, you hear a knock on your door. You know it's John. You can tell by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beat. You can smell him, and it is a heady thing in your nostrils. When you do not answer he just lets himself in, the cheeky bastard. 

He finds you sitting in one of your thrift store chairs by the window, one of the only ones not broken in the mess the vampires who took you left behind. He does not like this, you can tell, by his hairline frown. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.”

“Hate to tell you, but you're going to have to find a new way to get your vitamin D.”

“Ha ha,” you say, turning back to the window. A few people are out and about below. This city never really sleeps. 

“Hey,” he says again, crouching down by your chair. “I know this is a lot...”

The look you pay him is not exactly kind. He plows forward anyway.

“But take it from someone who's been there. Hell isn't a place you should be in a hurry to go.” 

You blink at that. He says it like it's so black and white, not a hint of uncertainty. Not faith. Fact. Once upon a time, you might have questioned his sanity. Not anymore. 

“Sounds like you've been.” 

“For about two minutes. It was enough.” 

“What was it like?” you whisper. 

“Pure agony.” 

Your eyes go wide at hearing that. 

“So...want to show me your bolt hole?” he asks.

Once upon a time you would have capitalized on the opportunity for inuendo with such comedic gold just handed to you for free, but you’re not in the mood. You just stare at him.

“John...You're a demon hunter. Why do you care?”

He tries to meet your eyes, but in the end can only look away. “Come on, y/n. Just…don’t give up yet, ok?”

He just feels guilty, you tell yourself, and you pry yourself from your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure what the point of anything will be, anymore. But maybe you’ll make an effort to go on, because he asked you to.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

“Fine.”

You figure the closet will be the darkest place in the apartment for you to hide.

[delulu4dean]

No Doctors (Sam and Dean Winchester x sibling!reader)

Warnings: needles I guess

Parings: sam Winchester X sibling!reader, Dean Winchester x sibling!reader

Prompt: you’re a hunter scared of needles idk I went to urgent care the other day and I hate needles.

Word Count: 1,044

Sam, Dean, and you, their younger, nineteen year old half sibling have seen a lot, obviously. Hunters? You see vampires, werewolves, ghosts. But as a Winchester you see so much more. The three of you have saved the world quite a few times. It is safe to say not much phases the Winchesters.

But you, Y/N Winchester has one big fear, needles. When Sam injected Demon Dean with human blood, you could not watch. It wasn’t because of your big brother’s yells of pain, but because you cannot even look at a needle. So when Sam and Dean told you that you HAD to see a doctor, you put it off until it was too late. Now your legs were covered in red spots. The spots were not inflamed or itching. They looked like bleeding under the skin, which means its less like a rash. Google did not help ease Sam and Dean’s worries about you.

“Y/N damn it, we have to rule out anything serious,” Dean told you.

“I am fine,” you insisted.

“Google says you have one week to live,” your older brother furrowed his eyebrows, showing you his google search on his smart phone.

“Google is not a doctor,” you rolled your eyes.

“That is why we have to take you to a doctor. Right Sam?”

Sam nods in agreement.

“Look, if Cas was here, he could figure it out, but he isn’t. We are going to urgent care,” Dean demanded. “Now get your ass to my car.”

You looked over to Sam and back to Dean, fear in your eyes. You knew what this meant, bloodwork. You could not do bloodwork. Just seeing a needle makes you sick to your stomach. The last time you had bloodwork done, you threw up. When you had to get your Covid vaccines, you took your brothers with you. It worked because they ended up getting theirs as well, but when it came to your turn, your brothers had to distract you so you didnt see the needle. You held Dean’s hands and almost broke his fingers as the needle went into your flesh.

“Dean, doctors are scary. All they do is poke at you with needles,” you frowned at your older brother.

“Sam and I will both be there by your side,” Dean insisted.

And so here you are now. The walking to the lab with your brothers at your side. You look for all possible exists to run out of here, but you know its no use. Dean would drag you back if he has to. The lab nurse sits you down in the chair and looks for a good vein. Shit. It’s going to happen. Your eyes follow her hands as she pulls out all the tubes that will be soon filled with your blood. The things is you’re not grossed out by the idea of seeing your own blood, its kind of cool actually. But knowing how it gets in there is too much.

You see her take out the needle and your instincts kick in. You jump out of your seat before your brothers push you back. Dean holds you down on the chair and you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that kid,” Dean sighs, a guilty expression coming across his face. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am fine! And when we find out that nothing is wrong you’re going to be sorry,” you spit.

Sam holds the hand of the arm that the nurse will draw blood from, not just to keep it steady, but to calm you down.

“You are a fighter, you are strong, you got this,” Sam tells you. “Just don’t look, and then you won’t feel it, okay?” You nod at Sam. “Attagirl. Now don’t look at me, or else you’ll see the needle too. Look at Dean.”

“Yeah, look at me,” Dean cuts in. You look up at your eldest brother. “Good job.”

“I’m not a child,” you remind Dean.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a kid compared to Sam and I,” Dean chuckles.

“Well yeah, Sam is old and you’re ancient,” you tease.

“Ancient?” Dean fakes an offended expression.

“Yeah. So ancient that when the Egyptians built the pyramids, they looked at you and said ‘Wow that man is ancient.’”

Sam laughs but plays it off as a cough when Dean shoots a look at him. You feel a cotton ball on your arm as the nurse wraps the bandage on your arm.

“All done,” she smiles. “You can go to the waiting room and as soon as we get your results, you’ll be notified.”

You’re surprised and relieved to find out its done and over with. And you didn’t feel a thing.

“You did it kid,” Dean smiles at you.

“We are proud of you,” Sam ruffles your hair.

“I’m almost twenty don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” you get up and push past your brothers.

They follow you into the waiting room and sit by your side. Sam wraps an arm around you while you’re all pouty and embarrassed.

“We aren’t babying you or anything,” Sam sighs. “You have a genuine fear, and you faced it. We know you’re an adult. You are capable of doing a lot, you are a badass hunter. A Winchester.”

You nod, not so confidently. You and your brothers watch the TV in the waiting room where some old cowboy movie is playing. Dean is loving it, but you just want to get your results and go back home. After twenty minutes, a doctor comes out with a clipboard.

“You are fine, your blood came back clean. And over the counter rash cream should be able to help. You are free to go home,” she tells you.

Dean scoffs, and Sam looks confused. To be fair, you don’t understand either, you know its not a rash, it doesn’t look like a rash. But it can’t be what Dean looked up either if the bloodwork came back clean so its clearly nothing serious. As the doctor walks away, you glare at your older brothers.

“See, I knew bloodwork was a waste of time.”

Dean shrugs as Sam says, “Better safe than sorry.”

[separatist-apologist]

What are your favorite monster fics? I’ve read all of yours and you have left me craving it.

You can't go wrong with any of these, and they are also my personal favorites:

On Waves of Blue by @kingofsummer93 [elucien]

Elain is bored of her mind-numbingly dull life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom. The only excitement she's ever known is the threat of the great fire-breathing King Koopa, intent on making her his bride.

Is it so wrong, then, that she doesn't fear his return?

To Tango With The Devil by @iambutmortal [feysand]

For two years, Feyre’s been obsessed with the demon statue in the church. It haunts her dreams, even on the eve of her wedding. To bad the statue’s just as obsessed with her.

Bow Down by @shadowisles-writes [elucien]

When one of Elain's rituals releases more magic than usual, a much bigger demon than what she has ever protected herself against comes to her door. No amount of hidden traps and talismans can protect her from what he wants to take.

My Heart of Stone by @c-e-d-dreamer [nessian]

“Why do you run from me, my mate?” the gargoyle asks, tilting his head and sending his dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

Nesta feels hysterical, fear rising like bile in the back of her throat, but somehow she’s able to choke out the words, “what did you just call me?”

Howl by @iftheshoef1tz [azris]

When Azriel suspects that werewolves are behind the disappearance of his brother, he turns to the only werewolf expert he knows. Unfortunately for Azriel, Eris might be the werewolf he's been looking for.

Smite My Enemies by @abraxos-and-ataraxia [nessian]

Nesta summons a creature to obliterate her enemies, but quickly finds another use for the demon that appears.

A Woman So Heartless by @velidewrites [nessian]

When the Goddess of the Underworld grants a mortal General an extended stay in the land of the living, she doesn’t expect him to come back with another deal — one she has no idea will ruin her life forever.

Bejeweled by @thesistersarcheron [feysand]

Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him.

He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.

Meet Me In The Woods by @paranoidbagel [feysand]

Returning to the ancient forests surrounding his ancestral home in the Scottish highlands, Rhys quickly discovers how the hunter becomes the hunted when a bloodthirsty Scottish faerie turns her ravenous sights on him.

The Music of the Night by @the-lonelybarricade [feysand]

It's Feyre's first year as an elligible maiden for the village reaping. In order to escape the chance of being chosen, Feyre rushes into a marriage with Lord Tamlin. She is terrified on her wedding night, but foruntately she is spared from consumating her marriage when she is pulled into a strange, erotic dream with an enchanting creature.

Paint It Red by @moodymelanist [nessian]

Nesta Archeron has been thirsting for revenge against Tomas Mandray since a fatal encounter in November 1940. When he suddenly reappears decades later, she finally has the perfect opportunity to make him pay for what he’s done. Her only problem? She and her friends aren’t powerful enough to take Tomas and his lackeys down on their own…

Cassian Valladares is the deadliest vampire hunter Windhaven has seen in a generation. When Nesta approaches him with a plan to kill her ex-fiancé, he’s initially hesitant – he wants nothing to do with leeches, especially one who almost got him killed. But as the bodies start piling up, Cassian and his brothers are forced to reconsider…

Will Nesta and Cassian be able to put aside their differences long enough to work together? Or will they find themselves consumed by something else entirely?

Crow Song by @damedechance [gwynriel]

Three years ago, Gwyneth Berdara became the ward of the Night Institute, a band of hunters led by Rhysand who work to rid the world of vampires. After one fateful night where Gwyn unwittingly welcomes one such creature into their home, she strikes a deal with Azriel, one that is just as likely to condemn them as it is to save them.

What The Shadows Hide by @shadowsxgwynriel [gwynriel]

When Gwyn goes out on the night of Calanmai to search for a missing priestess, she’ll soon find out that something lurks in the shadows...

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Hey hey!! Trevor!! Look at your hot priests new outfit!!

~~~~~~~

"My husband looks so cute in that! Love the style since it fits him so nicely." Trevor smiled but it really was something amazing to see.

[witchofthesouls]

Imagine if June was like a Hellsing though, specifically the OG/Ultimate anime iterations. A lost relative whose father changed their family name as a way to protect them from the horrors that tend to follow their bloodline. June honestly thought her past wouldn't catch up to her so soon.

Too bad an 5 year old Jack decided to open the door to Alucard and Sera one night. June's family being the last Hellsings means that the two vampires get passed down to her. Moving constantly definitely would be a thing during Jack's early childhood with Jasper being the latest and surprisingly longest current location.

Also I can't resist the image of Alucard being a menace to both factions. Miko would terrorize him in return. Lol

I haven't given a thought as a Hellsing since the ending was too good to mess with it.

But I do have thoughts of a Castlevania crossover where June (and Jack) being the last remaining Belmonts, and currently being hunted down by an old friend/battle companion after a massive breakdown that lead to June completely retreating from the modern world.

A lot of divergence here:

Team Prime is aware of the stranger things that go bump in the night as in Agent Fowler, but that was once handled by a different division that went rogue. A TFP version of Sector Seven.

Raf notices something (or too many somethings) with a substitute teacher, and starts down the rabbit hole that leads him (and Miko) to the Autobots.

The substitute teacher is a dhamphir who's attempting to find another way to contact June. Which leads him to the Autobots and manages to convince them of an alliance because who better to fight the undead than the undead... and a Belmont Hunter.

Definitely an Other!AU has well. I'm dragging the "humans into Cybertronians" trope because 1) I love it, 2) you can pry fantasy and supernatural settings out of cold, dead heads, and 3) that was the entire meltdown between June and her old friend. June got granted immortality via alien, magic doohickey, and been refining her magical training with an anchored apparition of Quintus Prime.

(Quintus willingly bonded himself to Earth because of Megatronus' descendants and as reparations since the Quintessons attempted to invade a far more active Earth. It failed.)

Details are still iffy as I'm torn on a lot of things:

When was June born. Because I could do a culture shock between the Victorian girl and an ancient Prime hermit with both dealing modern-day outside their time bubble.

Did June do a full retreat or still ventures occasionally into the world?

The extent of June's training and what happened to drive her into Quintus' hidden space.

Teenager or adult June?

How the hell sparkling!Jack come to be. I could do a fae!father or wrangle Soundwave into the vicinity with the classic "alien differences includes reproductive habits" concept.

The terms of Quintus' imprisonment. Is it something like a shop proprietor dealing with knowledge and wishes? Is he stuck in a sealed and self-contained dimension and acts a neutral party for various Others? Is he attempting to dig after Megatronus or acts upon his brother's last actions: Unicron's perpetual imprisonment?

M.E.C.H.'s involvement with the supernatural. Just how much awareness does Silas has on the undead, or is a department handled by other agents?

If the second is true, then does Agent Fowler have ties, or will Team Prime get another liason/diplomat as well?

Potential tension, especially if the department is highly secretive. Not just Agent Fowler and the liason but even with the Autobots. They can advise, but should the 'bots ignore them, then they're on their own.

But I definitely want the Belmont whip to a Primal Artifact (Megatronus'), and for Quintus and June to have grandpa-granddaughter vibes.

[garglyswoof]

I was inspired by @push1na 's amazing klaroline version of Klimt's The Kiss and so wrote a ficlet inspired by it This is me writing on my phone in an airport lounge so hopefully it comes out ok <3

--+++--

They come for him while the blooms are still bright, trampling them beneath an army of bootheels, and it's another point against them.

Because she loves the flowers, and he will have to get his minions to replant them when he crushes this threat. He often uses her own words, thrown at him with such vitriol years ago, just to see her eyes roll and barely hide the smile behind. But she's not here with him now. She is safe, he reassures himself.

It's only been a few years with her and he is greedy for a thousand of them. Last month he'd approached her here in this yard, in the suit she'd insisted he wear “for nostalgia reasons, obviously” with the blooms flowering their riotous colors in the golden light of sunset, and kissed her cheek as she stared at him with something that made his heart kick in his chest like a prey animal.

It was terrifying and joyous and his greedy, greedy heart cannot get enough.

He told her so, just a few days before, when he'd learned of this new vampire threat and sent her off to New Orleans despite her furious protests. He couldn't put it into words at the time, that losing her would break him worse than the hunter’s curse ever had. That to touch her was one thing, but to hear her spitfire words only made this stutter step in his heart worse. Instead he’d merely said ‘I need to keep you safe,’ and he knows it wasn't enough. 

He would enjoy his acts of contrition, truth be told, tangled in the sheets with his mouth tracing patterns on her skin.

The wind picks up then, ruffling his hair like it did her dress that golden-tinged summer evening, but this time it carries the scent of vampires instead of Caroline’s own. He keeps his pose casual, hands clasped behind his back, walking back towards the house and avoiding the wildflowers underfoot.  Let them think him clueless and weak, it made their destruction taste almost as sweet as the notes of jasmine in Caroline’s perf-

“No.”

“Yes,” she replies, and he looks up at her, standing in the doorway, her sundress abloom with flowers to match the yard, and his greedy heart thumps.

“They're almost here,.love. If I - if I,” he can't even say it, as if speaking the words could manifest them. He feels the impotent rage rise up, knows his next words will push her away.

Her hand cups his shoulder.and squeezes before he can betray himself. “I know.  But you won't. And you can't ask me to stay away when you're the one in danger. So you're just gonna have to learn to trust me. Plus you just gave me that fancy mini fridge and Im spoiled by how good the wine setting keeps blood at the perfect temperature.”

He grumbles at this, because he doesn't get her choice of diet when she could have it fresh from the tap, but he takes the hand at his shoulder, admiring the glint of sun off of some ancient queen’s ring he'd bestowed upon Caroline, you’ll forgive him for not remembering who, and kisses the palm of her hand, her wrist. 

Her intake of breath is a revelation, as it always is, that she is just as affected as he is. It makes him think that perhaps this madness that takes hold of his greedy heart isn't one-sided. He hoards her gasps like jewels in a dragon’s den. 

The thought steels him and his eyes are wild as he turns to face the onrush that he knows is upon them. Her hand stays clasped in his own, for a moment, and if he has the brief thought of never letting go, it is one borne of a poet’s thoughts that he’ll remember for later, when the path of his brush traps their moments together.

The sun descends, but she still shines to him, monster’s visage above the blooms of her dress, the neckline covered in blood, her hand clutching a still-beating heart. He only has a moment to appreciate her, his brilliant blonde distraction, before he turns back to the fray.

[ahoycaptainautumn]

Fated Mates Part 9

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

Astarion, unable to deal with the consequences of the mating, flees. You however learn a great deal with the help of a certain book.

The echoes of your combined panting pound against the granite walls of the ancient temple. Your heart rate still sky high as you try to remember how to breathe. Once finished, Astarion had rolled over to lay next to you. Both of you without a proper word to say after that. You felt like you had a million thoughts racing through your head. So many feelings and sayings you wanted to burst out of you. But all that came was a jumbled mess in your head that fell flat on your tongue. Sex had never been like that before. Sure you have had good lovers, talented ones even. But this. This was different. It stirred something else in you. A closeness that you felt in your bones the moment his teeth sank into your flesh. That this vampire, this agonizingly cocky, arrogant, self serving vampire, was someone you now… cherished. A bloom of affection took root in your stomach and was furrowing out into every section of you. You turn your head to look over at him. His eyes closed as if in thought.

Astarions mind races just as fast, but for entirely different reasons. His whole body is screaming to run. Fight or flight shocking his system into overdrive. To leave this, whatever this is, hard and fast. This was the beginning of his doom. Of the downfall in his tether free, master free, lifestyle. For all his years of honing his skills in manipulation, Astarion finds himself being the one wrapped around your finger. His body throbs with the reminder of what he had sealed with his actions. The words mate mate mate repeating over and over again somewhere deep in his mind. The words used to describe mating bonds from passing vampires or that book compared little to the experience of it. It was something stronger than even the pull Cazador has. Something built into his DNA. Every fiber, every muscle wired now to be attuned to you. But how could he do that to you? He may be callous, Gods know he isn’t one for caring, but he found himself doing so with you. Of caring what this meant for you. To you. That without your choice, without your consent, you had unknowingly stuck yourself to someone like him. You’re a vampire hunter for Gods sake! You would be degrading yourself for being with him. It was below you, even if you couldn’t see it for yourself. Astarion prays to whatever God would even listen to him that you would not feel the bond's presence. That the pull would bounce off of you. That you both could go back to insulting one another with maybe another romp or two. But when Astarion opens his eyes he finds you already looking at him.

“That was..” you trail off. Astarion pleads your next words won’t be kind. That you’ll break his heart into two and say something horrible. That you’ll demand to never do it again. So in his wallows he could know you would move on. Find someone worthy of you. Someone not to live for eternity as a manipulator, a puppet in a grand plan that would surely cast him aside. At least broken, he could still watch out for you. Could make sure your every need met, that his mate would be safe. Safe and far away. Far away from him. Far away from Cazador.

“Amazing. Not bad, blood sucker.” Your eyes twinkle as you finish your sentence. For the jest you put in your last sentence he can see the meaning behind it. The affection behind your eyes. You attempt to wrap your hand in his. Fingers interlocking in a warm embrace. No, no. No, he had to stop this at once. He couldn’t do this to you. He puts on his mask, that face that looks as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He wringes his hand out of your grasp and hoists himself up. With his scarred back to your questioning face he steadies himself. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if to not be present for what is to come out of his mouth. The poison he knew you would one day come to appreciate. Even if his mind screamed to stop.

“It was alright but I will take the flattery, now if you’ll excuse me. I’m off to find a comfortable bed.” He throws a hand out as if to shoo away the conversation. He takes a steadying breath and lurks over to his discarded clothes. He doesn’t dare look up to see your face. He can feel the hot stare on the back of his head already. He knows if he looks back at you; if he sees the way your face morphs into confusion and sadness, it will surely break the facade. That he will run back to you and take back his actions. But he trudges on, getting dressed faster than he believes he ever had before. Within a wink he’s already stranded you there naked on the table. You look around, as if your environment would give you any clue. What had just happened? One second your flirting, the next fucking, then he’s just.. gone? Sure maybe he wasn’t a cuddle type. You could deal with that. But he felt so cold. Unfeeling, as if this was a decent enough fling and he had had his fill. Was that all it was? Putting action to words spoken this entire adventure? A passing bit of fun? Now done, he could discard you? You scramble to get your clothing back on. You hurry out of the temple hoping to catch him before he’s gone. But it is as if he rode the wind and disappeared.

-

You hoped and prayed he would be back at camp once you made your way back. Though unfortunately, all companions were accounted for minus one vampire. Karlach had been the last into camp so you went to her to see if she may have seen him out and about.

“Karlach! Hey! You hadn’t seen Astarion by chance have you?” You run over to her, panting as you bend over to catch your breath.

“Woah woah woah. Breathe soldier. I think I saw him at one of the taverns in town. What’s going on?” She asks. Her strong arms crossed over her chest as she looks you over. Since meeting you she’s had a protectiveness about her when it came to you. Only an idiot couldn’t see how Astarion and you flirted back and forth. From the look on your face, something was up. And it was not good.

“Which one?” You ask impatiently. She shakes her head and leads you over to her tent.

“First you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” She returns. You make yourself comfortable on a plush pillow as she sits cross legged in front of you. Once you’re sat you fall into your hands. Forehead resting on your open palms.

“I don’t know! I wish I could explain it!” You start. You grasp at your hair, searching your mind for what even had just happened. You tell her everything that has transpired. Her face changes from excitement to anger by the end of your tale.

“I knew it! He couldn’t be trusted! Once I get my hands on him-“ Karlach starts. You throw up your hands and shake them wildly in front of you to stop her sentence. Something in you screams to protect Astarion. You knew how Karlach could rage, he didn’t deserve that. At least, not until you spoke to him.

“Karlach no! I just- I just want to talk to him.” Your voice falters. You feel deflated, listless. If you could just talk to him you could figure this out. Right? Karlach studies you. The way you wrung your hands back and forth anxiously. How your eyes look big and lost, nearly wet with tears. Gods you must be falling for the vampire. She groans and picks herself off the floor.

“Fine, fine. Since you look like a love sick puppy i'll tell you. But one misstep and it’s his fangs next time I see him!” She warns, wagging her finger in your face. You give your best smile albeit it still looks drained. She tells you the tavern she had seen him last. You give her an air hug as a thank you and scamper out of the camp. Karlach watches as you race off towards the town center.

-

As good a pickpocket Astarion is, he didn’t quite manage to steal enough to buy a decent enough wine. But this vinegar concoction would have to do for the evening. He sighs to himself, watching as he swirls the red liquid absentmindedly in his glass. His head rests on his hand he has propped up on the bar counter. The bar top is sticky with sloshed beers, people chatting and cheersing away around him. The mood is cheerful, gleeful even; with a band of barbs playing loudly in the corner. Elves and tieflings alike dancing away the night. Bartenders move swiftly, collecting orders from the numerous parched dancers and bar regulars. Astarion had paid enough upfront for the bar maid to leave the whole bottle with a sultry wink. Normally he would have chased it down. Gotten free wine and romp out of one exchange. But her beauty, her want of him, was nothing if not pale to him. His mind is entirely wrapped in thoughts of you. His stomach ached against the feverish bond pounding away inside of him. It gnawed at him. Begging for him to find you, check on his mate, to inhale your scent and never let go. It pushed into his throat and he swallowed around the lump of misery. Just as he put the glass to his lips once more he caught a familiar scent. The wafting of that familiar lavender, the bounding pulse that was so distinctly you. His ears perked up and he whips his head to look around. You were bounding towards the tavern, he could tell. His heart sang, brimming with life at the thought of you close. He shuts down the feeling as quick as it comes as he scampers to find a way out of this. He was not ready for this conversation. He needed one night to steel himself in the misery he needed to cause. The bar maiden notices Astarions nervous glances around and walks over to him.

“Need something handsome?” She does her best to push her breasts close together as she leans over the bar. She gives an award winning smile, looking Astarion up and down. Your scent grows stronger in Astarions nostrils.

“You don’t happen to have somewhere private by chance? I’ve got an angry lover on my tail, and I have a feeling she’s going to be here quite soon.” Astarion explains to the bar maiden with a cheeky smile. She gives him another look up and down. She muses this must be a very bad pick up line and wiggles a come hither at him. Astarion follows the woman towards the back, desperate to be hidden. Just as he is out of sight, you barge into the tavern. You look the place over at lightning speed. Nothing is a miss, a quite normal tavern. Joyful dancing to the band playing for the night. People in different small crowds socializing with one another. There is only one seat open at the busy bar with a forgotten glass of wine. Something inside you whines that he must be here. You damn near feel like you can smell him. I must be going crazy, you think. You look for him once more over the crowd before falling into the empty seat. A tiefling man sits to your left nursing a large stein of ale. It’s quite obvious from the numerous empty glasses surrounding him that he had been here for some time. You decide to try your luck and ask if he had seen Astarion.

“You didn’t happen to see an elvish man with white hair here recently? Tall, slender, reddish eyes?” You describe to him. He brings a finger to his chin to ponder. He sways slightly back and forth on the stool as he scrunches his nose in thought. You just about thank him for wasting your time before his eyes widen.

“Ah yes yes! He was- he was uh. Yeah he was just here.” He replies, gesturing to your seat.

“Where did he go? Did he happen to say?” You ask, hope growing in your heart.

“He followed the bar lady- went behind. Back room.” He pieces together, belching between each word. You give him a quick thanks before you hop off the stool. Your heart in your throat, you round the bar. The other bartenders are too busy with patrons to notice you diving back towards the employee only section. The back hallway only hosts tankards of ale, barrels, and cleaning supplies. You nearly given up before you notice a wooden door in the darkened corner of the hallway.

-

Astarion follows the elf bar maiden to a back hallway. There’s only one other room beyond the supplies littered about. Low candle light flickering large shadows across the hall. She takes his hand in hers and leads him to the door. He thinks nothing of it as your scent hits him harder, announcing your arrival. Anything to scurry away would be a luxury right now. She thrusts Astarion into the closet before shutting the door behind her. The room is small, filled with shelves of food supplies, more ale and wine bottles, and other miscellaneous items. It’s quite dark, a few old candles nearing their end in random spots. A leak from the roof trickles rhythmically at the far corner. Before Astarion can take a breath of relief the woman pounces on him. Her hands twine around his neck as she pushes him into a kiss. Astarions hands flare up in shock, eyes wide as if stuck in place. She takes his moment of shock to thrust her tongue into his mouth, moaning into his lips. Her hands twirl into his feather soft hair. This was nothing like his kisses with you. Those sparked lightning in his body, brimming his undead body to life. This was just skin to skin, pale in comparison. Astarion grabs her hips, hoping to politely decline with a nudge. Though before he can make space between their bodies another person comes tumbling into the closet. Astarion curses the Gods above that he chose to drink his sorrows away with piss-drunk patrons and horny bartenders. But with a glance over the woman’s shoulders his eyes fall on yours. Your foot propelling you forward, stuck in motion. Your hand is still gripping the doorknob as gasps of exertion leave your lips. Your eyes say it all. Blown wide in shock before cementing into pure pain. Even in the dim light Astarion can make out the way hurt curls in on your face. A crack whips up the bond. He can feel his breath leave him at the nauseating feeling. The bartender turns from her kiss with Astarion to investigate who came into the room. She gives an annoyed look over her shoulder, nose curling in disgust.

“Um employees only. Can’t you read? Kinda busy right now.” She scoffs. Just barely can Astarion hear the hiccup you let out. A fat wet tear rolling down your soft cheek before you turn and walk away. Astarions body moves of its own accord. He shoves the woman away from him as he makes haste to the door. He barely catches your disappearing scent as he walks back out on the crowded bar floor.

-

Cold night air slaps harsh against your skin as you dash from the tavern. Tears roll freely down your cheeks as you attempt to catch your breath between cries. Your heart pumps in your chest as you run down alleyways and streets. It feels as if your mind is sputtering, engine dying and failing to compute. So that’s what he had meant about finding a comfortable bed? Someone else’s? Jealousy and rage thunder in your veins, turning your body to pure ice. You had been so stupid! So naive! Here you were, a strong and capable vampire hunter, being distracted for games by a spawn! Tears dry in your eyes as the fury takes hold of you. That delicate piece of you that held Astarion begins to crumble into a ball in your heart. The tether to him you had started to feel in the temple engulfed in flames. Your feet move quickly, taking you right into camp and into Astarions tent. You wanted to rage. To put your hands to use and shred everything in sight. To destroy and put fire to anything he cared about. How dare he use you! How dare he toy with you! Your head whips back and forth in attempts to find something to bring your vengeance upon. You eye the large ornate trunk Astarion keeps his personal belongings in. You kneel before it before ripping the top open. Inside lies a scattering of things. Clothing, mirrors, art pieces and a few books. You dig around a bit before your eyes land on that gaudy romance book he had been insistently reading. Any moment he seems to be on his own his nose is buried in that book. Several times you had stolen glances his way or happened to peer in his tent only to find him reading and rereading that very book. What good is a romance book to someone playing the games he does! It’s ludicrous! It nearly makes you laugh in anger at the thought of him reading such a loving novel when he himself had shattered your heart. You tear the book from the chest just as you hear hurried footsteps coming towards camp. Most everyone had gone to bed already so you assumed it’s Astarion. You exit his tent and plunge into your own. You zip the entrance tight, making a very obvious do not disturb before you scuttle back onto your sleeping pad. A few minutes later you hear Astarions feet coming towards your tent. The scent of bergamot and rosemary wafting in. The scent encompasses your senses, relaxing you. You almost let the feeling carry you, to snuggle into the familiar scent. Before that rage takes hold once more. You turn from the tent entrance and lie on your side. You float in and out of sleep as you dream of Astarion.

Astarion putters before your tent entrance, half tempted to rip it open. His mind pleads to do just that. To try him damnedest to plead his case. To show it was all a misunderstanding and should be shoved to the past. But he could see how it looked. He had taken you, left coldly and then is found kissing another woman. It looked bad. It was royally fucked. One part of his brain reminds him that he should be happy. That this is what he wanted. Distance between you so you could flourish without the weight of him holding you down. But the ache of your misery and hatred stabbed Astarion sharper than any blade. He felt like his throat couldn’t open all the way. His muscles aches, heart crying out. How on earth did any vampire get anything done with the waves of emotions the bond made one feel? He finally decides, against his heart's judgment, to go to his own tent.

-

Breakfast was tense. More than tense, cut throat. Astarion did his best to stay clear of you, avoiding you every moment he could. Seemingly having something to do when you came near. A black cloud followed you, rage nearly palpable near you. Everyone stepped on their toes around the two of you, no one bringing up the obvious. Karlach attempted to talk to you, to try to soothe you. But you wanted none of it. As much as you appreciated your friends' attempts you wanted to sit in your anger. To let your body go through the emotions it needed to feel. You had hidden the book you stole from Astarion in a secluded spot near camp. In case he noticed it missing and decided to ransack your tent. You were childishly hoping he would notice it missing and confront you. Just so he would acknowledge you. Gods you just wanted to argue. To yell and fight and curse and then make up. You wanted it so badly you could nearly picture it, a daydream rewinding in the back of your mind. If Astarion felt the same he certainly didn’t act like it. He ignored you as best as he could. Once or twice you tried to confront him yourself. Foolishly thinking to be the bigger person. Even if the bigger person punched him right in his jaw. But alas, he swerved away from you like the plague.

Your first attempt was at camp after trying to settle your mind and eat something. But the moment you went where he had just been in the forest he was already gone. You then tried again when everyone had dispersed into town. You had all decided to stay one more night in the city, to prepare for your trip to the next destination. You tracked him through the city streets. You followed unnoticed behind him, watching him turn and go behind a shop. Just as you round the corner, words ready at your tongue, he was nowhere to be seen. You tried to find him again but it’s as if he had disappeared from the city. Fed up, you let the sorrow take root once more as you tucked tail and went back to camp.

-

Astarions chest puffs with anxiety as he lays flat against the building wall. Squeezing his eyes shut in silent prayer. He had smelled your scent the moment you started to follow him into town. He had tried to ignore it at first. Hoping that you would give up once you noticed he wasn’t paying you any mind. Then he tried to shake you, turning down streets quickly with no real rhyme or reason. But still your pulse and scent felt as if it bites at his heels. Finally he decided to dive behind a shop and hide behind an alleyway wall. Thankfully you had given up the search as you made your way behind the shop as well. He sighed in relief as he slumped to the ground. His heart ached, throbbing in pain. This couldn’t keep going on. But he didn’t really know what else to do but return to his old habits. Hide.

-

Eyes wet with tears, you made your way to the secluded spot you had found near camp. Nestled in between thick trees and a flowing stream was a short jagged rock formation. The rocks sat on one another creating a craggily diamond head. A perfect spot to get away, and to hide someone’s book. You rest against the rocks as you watch the steam go by lazily. Fat tears plop onto the group beside you. You tried to wrap your mind around what has happened. What do you even do? You think it’s best to just forget it. Forget any of it happened and move on as if it never occurred. But at the thought your stomach lurches. Pain sharp as ice cinches your heart. To forget that night? To forget Astarion? Who were you kidding. The vampire had come and twirled himself into your heart strings. So tangled you don’t recognize who is who. Your relationship or even your feelings, for another never felt so strong before. As if the world’s axis tipped at the point of where Astarion stood. Your center of gravity in a reality you found completely upside down. A year ago you would have been hunting his kind down. Forcing them to out the man who had butchered your family and left you to witness it all. You too weak to even be dealt with. But now you would strangle who would do the same to Astarion. Yes he had his flaws, giant glaring flaws. But there was someone full of grief and loneliness under the facade. Of someone who had bared torment from your tormentor.

You tilt your head back and close your eyes. The rocks cool on the back of your head. You take a deep breath and sigh, tears finally leaving you. You reach behind you to grab hold of Astarions book you hid in between the rocks. The raunchy book cover greeting you. You shouldn’t have taken it. It was childish, done in anger. You should just walk back to camp, toss it in his tent, and leave well enough alone. But as you grab the book in both hands you notice the cover slip. The hardcover underneath is worn with old leather. You slide the rest of the cover off. The title reads “Mates in Five Different Species: Fate Driven Partnership”. Something sparks in your mind. A sense of deja vu. Like a long forgotten memory scratching at the precipice of your brain. You open the book and start to flip through. You find a certain page dog-eared, obviously reread from the worn feeling of the pages. It’s the beginning of a chapter titled “Vampiric Mates”. As you read the words it hits you. A sudden all powerful wave that would have surely swept you off your feet. Your skin tingles as goosebumps ride along your extremities. Your mouth is dry as your throat constricts. You can only think of one thing. Mates.

Part 8 here

Part 10 here

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

Stats from Movies 1601-1700

Top 10 Movies - Highest Number of Votes

Jaws (1975) had the most votes with 940 votes. The Last Winter (2006) had the least votes with 353 votes.

The 10 Most Watched Films by Percentage

Jaws (1975) was the most watched film with 67.4% of voters out of 940 saying they had seen it. The World Is Full of Secrets (2018) had the least "Yes" votes with 0,2% of voters out of 420.

The 10 Least Watched Films by Percentage

Leatherface (2017) was the least watched film with 66.6% of voters out of 515 saying they hadn’t seen it. Fired (2010) had the least "No" votes with 7,4% of voters out of 392.

The 10 Most Known Films by Percentage

Jaws (1975) was the best known film, 0,3% of voters out of 940 saying they’d never heard of it.

The 10 Least Known Films by Percentage

Fired (2010) was the least known film, 91.8% of voters out of 392 saying they’d never heard of it.

The movies part of the statistic count and their polls below the cut.

Headgame (2018) Loop Track (2023) Tarot (2024) Şeytan (1974) Broadcast Signal Intrusion (2021) The Guest (2014) Red Eye (2005) Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) Yummy (2019) The Manor (2021)

Boys From County Hell (2020) Totally Killer (2023) I Saw the TV Glow (2024) Curse of the Werehuahua (2021) Alive (2018) Come To Daddy (2019) The Devil's Backbone (2001) Jaws (1975) High Tension (2003) Cape Fear (1991)

Below (2002) The Last Winter (2006) The 13th Warrior (1999) Run Sweetheart Run (2020) Meander (2020) Fired (2010) The Jack in the Box: Awakening (2022) Bed of the Dead (2016) The Vanishing (1988) The Eye (2002)

Mind-Ripper (1995) The Editor (2014) Thale (2012) Feed Me (2022) Organ (1996) The Severed Arm (1973) Night of the Demon (1957) ClownDoll (2019) The Quantum Terror (2022) The Furies (2019)

Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974) I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle (1990) Identity (2003) The Stepfather (1987) The Black Cat (1941) The Clown at Midnight (1999) Solomon Kane (2009) Season of the Witch (2011) The World Is Full of Secrets (2018) The Clown Murders (1976)

Bloody Harvest (1987) All Hallows Eve (2013) Slaughter High (1986) The Gingerdead Man (2005) I Am Not A Serial Killer (2016) The Good Neighbor (2016) Killjoy (2000) Last Summer (1969) Cry_Wolf (2005) Predator Island (2005)

The Other (1972) Leprechaun (1992) Be My Cat: A Film For Anne (2015) I'm Thinking of Ending Things (2020) Beyond Re-Animator (2003) Better Watch Out (2016) Urban Legends: Final Cut (2000) Human Lanterns (1982) The Mummy (1932) The Mummy (1959)

The Pyramid (2014) New Year's Evil (1980) Black Christmas (2006) The Seventh Curse (1986) The Mummy's Hand (1940) Never Hike Alone (2017) Legend of the Mummy (1998) President's Day (2010) The Curse of King Tut's Tomb (2006) Unfriended: Dark Web (2018)

Leatherface (2017) [REC]² (2009) The Mummy's Tomb (1942) The Mummy's Ghost (1944) Predator (1987) Halloween: Resurrection (2002) Carrie (2013) The Mean One (2022) Cronos (1993) Terror Train (1980)

Ancient Evil: Scream of the Mummy (2000) The Boxer's Omen (1983) Stepfather II: Make Room For Daddy (1989) The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb (1964) Halloween II (2009) Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh (1995) Candyman III: Day of the Dead (1999) The Cat (1992) The Mummy's Curse (1944) ThanksKilling (2007)