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acotarxreader · 5 months

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Jilted

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: The morning of your wedding your fears are enforced by an old way of thought, sending you running and Azriel to cope with the aftermath but will a reunion set you both back on the path you should both be living?

Warnings: Angsty

A/N: Right, you may find yourself hating Reader for a bit but I tried my best convey the panic and pressure.

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“I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this”

“Shh YNN you'll be fine! This is what you want!” Mor caught you in her arms, your train half tangling your feet. You cried into her chest, not caring if your make-up was streaming down your face, your sister and maid of honour rocking you gently.

“YN, come on sweetie, it's just pre-wedding jitters, happens to most, Azriel will be waiting to see his beautiful bride!”

“Mor it's too soon! I was going to be a writer! Go off and live on the continent, I have never even been! There's still so much I want to go and do!”

“And you will! You will YN! You and Az will do that together and more! Marriage isn't going to change that!”

“You're right, you're right” You pulled from her, rubbed under your eyes and sat back down at the vanity. You looked into the mirror at the person you hardly recognised and silently went about reapplying your makeup.

“You look beautiful YN” You could only nod at her, afraid if you opened your mouth again it would set off a series of unfortunate events.

“I’m going to go check on Azriel” She gave you a smile before ducking out of the pastel room, leaving you alone. You steadied your breathing, batting your tears away with your lashes before they could fall further. You loved Azriel, he was your life force, saved you from yourself and you returned the same to him. He was your everything. These thoughts brought ease to you. You ran a soft hairbrush through your flowing locks, a smile beginning to reappear on your face.

“Oh you look lovely my child” The sound of a weathered female's voice came up behind you, causing you to jump slightly. She was of pure Illyrian blood, a representative of a dying way of thought, a relic in her own right, Azriels only remaining relative he was in contact with.

“Thank you, Elena” You found your head bowing slightly to her, unsure of why, you out-ranked her and yet you felt the pressure of the millennia of the institution she represented weigh on you.

“You're going to make a wonderful wife YN” She almost snaked up behind you as quietly as she entered the room as you watched her in the reflection. You tried not to stare at the clipped tattered wings that hung from the female, she tucked them in as if noticing your glance.

“I just know you'll keep him a nice life”

“What do you mean?” You turned to face the skeletal woman, her bone-chilling words wrapping around your lungs.

“Well, I mean being the wife of a powerful Illyrian of course! And just think YN when the children come along you'll be so busy raising the next generation of warriors! Not much time for other things but what could be more important than the bloodline? Azriel is a hard worker, I know he'll provide in tenfolds” She smiled as if she wasn't throwing a live grenade, it began to smoke as the pin was pulled from it inside your head. You could feel your chest compressing further with the strangling tradition.

“Well, Az and I will be both working and you know we won't be having offspring until after we travel and even then we'll both be looking after them” You tried to calm yourself down but her shrill laughter put a quick stop to relief you had from your own words.

“Oh, my child don't we all think that! You're marrying an Illyrian, bastard born or not-” the words cut you, anger replacing anxiety for a moment until she continued “-He can’t suppress the urges of his blood. His life partner will be malleable, mute and well-behaved, does what is expected of her. Azriel has other things to be doing for his Court than raising children, female work”

“I-” You couldn’t find the words through the magma-thick matter-of-fact speech she choked you with.

“-Well, I must go make myself useful elsewhere child” Her crochet-hook-like fingers dug into your shoulders with a squeeze before she turned and left you in the solitude of your room once more.

You could feel the air rush from your lungs as you fought to stop the oxygen from evaporating from your blood. You stood, pacing, blood rushing to your face as you stumbled on the train of your dress, hitting the carpet with unforgiving force. You lay for a moment on the carpet, hands splayed out in front of you, your engagement catching the light like you loved. It suddenly feeling much too tight.

“Gods! Fuck! I can’t do this!” You stood on rattling knees, grabbing things frantically from the dresser before you could fully become cognisant of the actions.

You moved quickly and carefully through the door and into the empty hallway, avoiding the directions where laughs leaked out, them falling like battle cries in your ears.

You reached the stone steps of the venue with quiet desperation, your adrenaline and anxiety now fully controlling your body as you bolted down the path, half stumbling. You whipped around to look back up to the hill where the hall of your friends and family waited for the blushing bride, tears claiming your face as their own as you dashed into the streets of Velaris before anyone inside became the wiser.

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Funerals are a strange thing. They do strange things to people. You thought this as you stood at the back of a hall you had not been inside in almost 70 years, thought about how the female they were saying goodbye to today shook your entire life up like it was nothing. You looked around and imagined it the week after you left, the day you left, the hour after you left. You thought of the moments you missed with your chosen family since you fled the Night Court and all its wonderful attributes, you pushed the guilt you had been fighting ever since then back down

From the back row, your eyes landed on the backs of the three Archeron sisters, their stories meeting you on your travels around the globe. You smothered the smile that toyed at your mouth, the thoughts of your friends happy and in love warming you. Your gaze landed on the the back of Azriels head as it hung in respect. Too much, this was too much, you couldn’t deal with him seeing you. As you had 70 years previously, you slipped from the hall without anyone noticing.

You were met with the warm Spring sun, a beautiful day in Velaris, as they all were. You wandered down the unforgiving steps, your name from a familiar voice stopping you.

“Yn?”

“Mor!”

“Yn!” She ran down the steps, taking you in her arms, the feeling of home rushing to you. You were so happy to hold your sister having worked through the issues that arose from your wedding day. At first, she rightfully iced you entirely but after two decades of silence, she reached out, asking to reconnect, missing her sister in the fray and yet you always found an excuse to not come home.

“Yn I'm so happy you're back! You came back for the funeral?”

“Yeah I did, felt I needed to”

“Yeah I mean I suppose they were almost your family too” she smiled before realising her words and apologising, a weak smile grew on your face in acceptance of the throwaway comment. The two of you continued down a winding road away from the groups leaking out of the hall.

“So how long are you here?”

“Just the weekend, I have meetings on Monday, I’m staying at our old apartment, remember?”

“Oh yes! Just a flying visit so, the busy life of a successful big-time author I suppose”

“Oh yeah, I'm plagued with the title” you laughed, finally meeting the Sidra as it coursed, its glimmering water making you smile.

“Yeah, your success really boomed after leaving here” She almost sounded sad before beaming at you again and catching your hands in hers.

“I guess, I missed you though, I missed the Night Court”

“And Azriel?” The name struck pure pain into your heart, as if seeing the back of his head in the hall wasn't bad enough, hearing his name was almost catastrophic, you only nodded.

“Well, he misses you too YN” She squeezed your hands.

“He doesn't, he couldn't, not after what I did to him Mor” She looked at you with sympathy, looking back up the street you just walked down.

“I have to get back, they’ll be looking for me” You gave her an understanding smile

“Meet me for a drink later in Rita’s, we have so much to catch up on” as she kissed your cheek goodbye with her words before returning back up the street to the hall again.

You looked out over the Sidra, an empty plot of land ripping through your heart. It was there where you and Azriel were going to build, it still stayed empty. A mausoleum to your relationship. You peeled your eyes from it, looking elsewhere around the city you adored, deciding to spend the remainder of your evening re-acquainting yourself with it.

Night fell in the city of stars as you found your way towards the Town House by muscle memory alone. You felt so alive being back, more alive than any amount of travel or success ever brought you. You leaned against the fence, waiting happily for your sister.

“Y-Yn?” his face dropped, his voice alone causing you to bite the inside of your mouth to almost bleed. The red flush from your walking was gone from your face growing pale at the sight of him standing on the other side of the street. He crossed slowly as if any sudden movement would send you running.

“H-Hi Az-Azriel, you look - you look well”

“Thank- what are you doing here YN?” tones of confused sadness left Azriel, the anger towards you he felt so many years ago unable to be conjured back at will. He thought about this moment so often and yet, he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d said in those imaginary encounters.

“I-I’m meeting Mor, I-”

“Azriel, hey there you are!” The small beaming brunette Fae seemingly came from nowhere to his side, her hand tucking into his so effortlessly. You pushed every yearning thought from your head and plastered a smile onto your face that didn’t fully meet your eyes.

“Maya, go tell Mor her sister is here, I’ll meet you inside” She raked her eyes up your and down your full body with such subtle brutality before kissing Azriel’s cheek goodbye, sauntering up the path to the house.

“She seems nic-”

“She is” He almost bit, his eyes felt like daggers on your skin.

“I-”

“-What are you doing here YN?” his tone matched his eyes.

“I just came for the funeral”

“And now what?”

“I’m meeting Mor and then heading to our old place to stay” “And then?” “Then, I’m heading back to the continent” You weren't sure why you were answering, you suppose you owed him that much, the heat of his eyes making you feel vulnerable.

“I heard your writing is doing pretty well there, pretty well everywhere”

“Yeah”

“Hope it was worth it YN” Words like fire burning you all over, and yet you felt you deserved worse. He sighed when you didn't respond before pushing past you, following the path Maya had just trotted up.

“It wasn't," you said the words before you knew what you were saying, back towards him before looking over your shoulder, now fully meeting his eyes. He looked as though he was going to say something but Mor came flying out her front door.

“Sorry I'm late YN I was- oh, sorry am I interrupting something?”

“No Mor, I was just leaving” and then he did. Gone again.

“How did that go?” Mor looped her arm through yours, prying you from leaning on the wall to head down the street again.

“Fine” you tried a smile and failed.

“You met Maya”

“Always one for sensitivity Mor” You smiled at your sister and she was instant apologies.

“I’m sorry, I forgot they were coming over tonight… Maya isn't anything like you if that helps. He went a bit off the walls when you left. Cassian thinks he's going to propose to that tonight, hope he's all wrong. He's totally settling especially since Rhys and Cass have their mates now. She's nothing like you and I think he knows that, just ignoring it. It's kinda sad and- oh hey YN I didn't mean to make you cry” she said the words like throwaway gossip, forgetting her audience only to have your rising tears land her back to earth.

“No no it's okay Mor, I'm just going to go home”

“Aw come on, I'm sorry!” you stopped on the path, her soft eyes giving you no comfort.

“Not as sorry as I am Mor” You took off then, in the direction of your old shared house.

You lay in your bed, rain threatening to come through the slate roof. Tossing and turning you finally decided to get up and wander your old house you had with Mor before meeting Azriel. Looking in drawers filled with old pictures, ones of you when you were a kid, playing with the Mor. More recent ones of you with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Azriels arm draped around you. You ran your fingers over the tarnished picture, a tear dripping onto the film before you tucked it back into the worn drawer.

You meandered through the living room, stopping at the old mahogany press. You knew what was in there and you didn't want to see it. Looking at that engagement ring again would be the end of you.

A loud banging came drumming against the door causing you to jump from the crushing thought. You wrapped the dressing gown tighter around yourself before opening the door to see the tormented, rain-soaked Illyrian before you. He waited for no invitation before blowing in past you, the cold leaking from him.

“I COULDN'T DO IT!”

“Do what Azriel?! What's wrong?!”

“I couldn't ask Maya to marry me! There's fucking caution tape around my heart because of you! I would have been fine if you had just left me alone to wallow in anger all those years ago I would have been fine! But No! I just had to fuck around and get attached to you!” He threw his arms in the air, words hot with anger.

“You're blaming me for loving you?!” You found his words caused you your own irritation.

“Yeah! Yeah I am! You just had to pay attention to me! You just had to care about me! You just had to-”

“Had to what?! Had to love you!” you couldn’t believe you snapped out the words as they floated to his ears.

“YEAH! AND YOU JUST HAD TO LEAVE ME!” Knives to your mind would have been less painful, he almost rattled in anger, a mere metre away from you, his shadows vibrating at his feet in anger.

“I had to leave Azriel I wasn't ready!”

“YOU COULDN'T HAVE SAID THAT TO MY FACE!? BECAUSE YOU COULD HAVE! ANYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN STANDING UP ON THAT FUCKING ALTER WAITING FOR YOU!” his arms raised in the air with his words, causing you to flinch slightly.

“Azriel-”

“When we were together what was the thing you always said to me?! It was that you wouldn't leave me, that you wouldn't abandon me like everyone else. YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T AND YOU FUCKING DID!”

“I know Az I know” you were crying now, throwing yourself back on the couch, floods of memories of those very conversations threatening to drown you.

“You know?! Then why did you do it! The truth!”

“Elena came to me before the wedding and said all this stuff about what a wife should do and be and how I wasn't going to have time to write anymore and all the kids would be left to me and I wasn't ready! I WASN'T READY FOR THAT KIND OF PRESSURE THE ILLYRIANS WERE PUSHING ON ME!”

“YEAH! THE ILLYRIANS NOT ME! I NEVER EVER SAID ANYTHING LIKE THAT! NEVER EVEN THOUGHT IT!” you buried your head in your hands at his shouting, the action sending a ping of regret through Azriel but the repressed rage he felt towards you had to get out.

“You hurt me YN YLN. The wedding bells were just alarms to you”

“I don't know what to say but I want you to know that I understand that you hate me, I'll leave tomorrow, Ill go!” you swept the tears from your face, feeling you didn’t deserve to have them, the maker behind this mess.

“I missed you” his words completely caught you off guard as you brought yourself to look at him once again, his wild wrathful eyes replaced by utterly heartbroken ones.

“I miss you and I shouldn't. I can't move on from you! I haven't slept properly since you left! Every damn night it's a new nightmare and then I wake up and you're not there like you used to be and it's a different kind of nightmare! I miss you being there next to me at the dinner table, at Rita’s, at stupid fucking court functions, just doing absolutely fuck all with you! The number of times I thought about contacting you, visiting you, the amount of letters I wrote and never sent-” It was the first time he hadn't had a raised voice since he came into the house but being faced with the fallout of your actions in his ice tone made you miss the screaming to some degree.

“I'M SORRY! I AM WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY!” you found yourself shouting back, anything to deafen your inner voice.

“Do you miss me?” his icy tone melted slightly at your unfamiliar raised voice.

“Yes” you stood again from the sofa.

“I'm with Maya”

“I know”

“But she's not you”

“No”

“I hate you YN" The words hurt every inch of your body, every cell felt searing unwavering pain, the sentence you never thought you’d hear him say. The familiar feeling of your lungs being strangled beat in your chest, unable to recover from the mortal wound. You did what you did best and ran, out the door and into the rain-soaked Velarian streets.

“YN stop!” he followed you quickly as you made it halfway down the street, he would not have you slip from him again.

“No! I hurt you! I broke you and myself in the process all for selfish reasons and I still love you Azriel!” you went to run again but his firm hand on your forearm stopped you, spinning you to face him as his wild face dripped in rain.

“I hate that I love you YN”

“What?” you said softly over the thundering rain. Azriel looked from your face to over your shoulder. You turned to follow his eyes down the street, the plot of land haunting the other side of the Sidra.

“You ever wonder what we could have been? We were supposed to live there after we got married, we'd probably have kids and all now” his tone had softened at the sight of the overgrown plot.

“Yeah, we probably would” You stood next to him looking at the patch of home, you gave a weak smile.

“But you might not have your successful career”

“I'd have you, that would be worth more”

“You don't mean that YN”

“I do” he turned to completely face you then.

“Never thought I'd hear you say those words” You bit your lip and you could have sworn Azriel fought a slight smile at your discomfort.

“You should go propose to Maya -” Your mouth was betraying your heart “- And I should leave and live the life I chose because I can't be around the life I should be living”

“Do you think you'd want to live it if I gave you the choice now?” his eyes searched yours, fully softening for the first time since he landed on the doorstep.

“I do”

“Yn I hate you and I love you but mostly I just hate that I love you” He felt no longer in control of his urges, leaning into you as he took hold of your soaked hips and leaned down to kiss swirls of what should have been and what could have taking you both over.

15 years later.

You lay down in the sun of the wildflower garden, your eyes took rest in the warm glow of the sun, taking a moment of rest after months of traveling with your new novel.

“ARGH!” You shrieked at the rush of cold water soaking you down to your skin.

“Azriel!” you bolted from where you lay, chasing your husband who clutched the hose down the length of the garden, only to be stopped dead by his sudden decrease in velocity.

“Big mistake YNN” You looked at him puzzled only to hear the roaring laughter of your two children launch out of the hedges and armed with water balloons that they doused you with, gaining more screams of pure unadulterated joy. You collapsed to the grass as they overwhelmed you with their hysterics, climbing all over you, Azriel watching on so lovingly, so whole.

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I promise the next fic will be more silly goofy! Let me know what you think!

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pursuitseternal · 9 months

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“Antics of the Newly Ascended:” ✨🩸What it must have been like right after the Rite for… everyone…

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.4K of “Ascension Puberty” and Smut

Summary: “I can’t yet speak its language…” Astarion doesn’t know all his powers, despite the title of Vampire Ascendant, despite having a Bride at his side. Suppose these manifest themselves surprisingly, even awkwardly… a bit of comedy and smut.

CW: awkward campmates, Vampires stuck on the ceiling, peacock-preening Ascendant Lords, Bride/Spawn Tav also learning what it means to be a vampire, and the hot smut that always delivers (oral sex, hand job, anal fingering, blood kink, dom and sub!Astarion)

Ao3 Link | Astarion fic Masterlist

The First Day…

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A/N: Mostly, I consider this Astarion’s Ascension puberty, that awkward time he’s getting to know his “changing” body… and how it might surprise him sometimes. In my own play-thru, it strikes me that after the Rite, it’s just life as usual for everyone. I like to think there are some lingering feelings and learning curves… so here is some comedy and smut (a gift to @marimosalad because the double stimulation towards the end was her amazing idea 😘)

Not quite “The Rogue You Were” maybe a prequel

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You had heard he had demanded his own room now at the Elfsong. Wyll had told you, his one good eye rolling in its socket with ire. “His Lordship demanded a separate chamber for him and his.. consort,” he had spat the word out with disgust in your direction, “one that befits his new status and power of Vampire Ascendant.” Wyll sneered, put out, jilted. That forever part of him that was a monster hunter and hero still unable to wrap his mind around what you did for love. “You best not keep him waiting, Consort.”

Someday, the Blade of Frontiers might understand. But not today, not one day into Astarion’s reign as Ascendant and your new immortal life at his side.

Now you creep outside his door, just one room over. The same he had stolen you away to last night… when you became his, when you died to be reborn his consort. He had pointedly refused to really call you spawn. And while the memories of that night were hazy, aside from the most glorious sex of your existence, you knew whatever was done was done.

You waited, your hearing even sharper now, heightened as vampire. From behind the door you hear groaning, grunts of effort, and sighs of exertion.

And you frown. Could he really be… taking care of himself… after everything you had done with him last night? Even now this evening, with you merely a wall away? Like you wouldn’t come running for pleasure if he called for you, with or without compelling?

You knock on the door. Hard. Furious. If your heart still beat, it would be racing in rage.

“Leave me,” he barks back.

“Astarion,” you hiss. And then you knock harder. “Let me in.”

Inside, you hear scrambling, boots scraping on wood. A messy hurry of activity punctuated by curses.

If you hadn’t been there yesterday, hadn’t felt the lives of so many flow into your beloved, hadn’t been spattered by Cazador’s blood yourself as the same Infernal ruins were carved in his flesh… you would scoff at the suggestion Astarion was at all changed.

You finally hear the door handle unlock, and riding the swell of your self-righteous anger, you burst in.

“After all I have done for you… all I did to get you that Ascension, all the times I spread my legs, you insist on…”

You freeze. The door behind you shuts by magic. And looking up beside you, you see why. “Astarion,” you begin, much quieter, trying to stifle a laugh, if only from the pure irritation that seethes on his sharp face, “why are you on the ceiling?”

He hangs upside down, that mess of silver curls near standing on their ends. His face is flushing, that newly reborn heart letting all that magnificent, ascendant blood rush to his head. He folds his arms and spreads his legs. As if he could be intimidating while being inverted.

“I told you this morning, my treasure, it will take some time to become acquainted with my new self.”

You scan the room, skin tingling at the memories of pleasure not one day ago. And yet, here he was being more ridiculous than ever before. “So… the private room isn’t just for mind-blowing sex now that you and I are joined for eternity…” you fight the smirk on your lips as his upside down glower deepens. “It’s so you have some privacy as you… practice.”

“Don’t you dare… tell the others,” he growls, pure irritation and annoyance seething in his voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” you chuckle, extending your arm above your head as you walk beneath him. “Need a hand, my beloved vampiric master?”

He pouts, grumbling, but reluctantly reaches to grab you. His fingers wrap into yours, that warm touch of his still shocking and foreign. You pull with all your might, feeling his body release from the ceiling, floating as you tug him down until his feet rest beside yours.

He’s fuming, chest rising and falling beneath that elegantly embroidered tunic he has taken to wearing.

You grin, reaching to stroke his cheek as his parlor resumes that pale luster you know and love. Cleaning your throat, you purr, “And this is where you say…”

“Take off your clothes, my beloved consort,” he smirks and sneers at once, jutting his face into yours until you feel his warm breath on your lips.

“Not until you say…” you pause, arching your brows.

You wait. His lips fluttering, eyes boring into yours with almost glowing red intensity.

“….thank you,” he finally grumbles. Barely audible.

You turn your head, cocking your ear in his direction. “I’m sorry, what was that, my lord?”

“Thank you,” he replies louder through gritted teeth.

You can’t help but have another giggle tickle your throat. “I have no doubts you’ll master your powers in time, and until then, I’ll be here for you, my love, to lend you a hand.”

He gives an annoyed sigh. “By the hells, if the others find out…” he hisses, mad at himself rather than you.

“I think I can keep my mouth shut around them, and busy doing other things around you…” you close the distance between you, small as it might be, raising on your toes to press your lips against his, despite the disdainful pout.

“Hmmm tempting, but I do find myself rather famished…” he pats you on the cheek.

You grin, tilting your neck and sweeping your hair, an offering to sate him as you always have. You hold your breath, his lips hovering over that favorite vein of his. But he merely plants a small pecking kiss. “Delicious as you are, I think I’m in need of something more… filling.”

“Food?” you balk, jaw dropping as he catches your hand and opens the door.

“All of man’s appetites and desires are mine again, and after two-hundred years of food like ash and wine like vinegar, it’s time I started tasting all life has to offer.”

He turns, his face grins in power, but there is something in his eyes. Giddy, almost childish in excitement, like waking to presents on your birthday. It lasts a flickering second before he turns his head. You follow, hand held in his warm grip, led back into the common rooms. The scent of roast pork and vegetables fills the air. He lets your hand drop, making quick strides to the serving table before carving himself a huge hunk of meat off the carcass and ladling a pile of potatoes on the side of his dish.

“Well,” Wyll comments as the vampire settles down in a seat, “never thought I’d see the day when a vampire joins the feast with more than a goblet of blood.”

“First time for everything Wyll,” he croons in reply, taking a hearty bite just for emphasis. He doesn’t even wait to swallow completely before he continues. “First time a vampire ascendant has feasted, or existed, at all, don’t you forget.”

“I doubt you’ll let us,” Karlach teases before taking a sip of ale as ripples of laughter break out.

A bit nervously.

You look at the food, your stomach more than hungry, but… You recall as you lick your lips and catch your new fang on your tongue by accident, it’s not just food you crave.

You hear your name from the group, Karlach again breaking the chatter, “Hurry up, dish yourself a plate and get moving soldier. It’s not the same without you!”

You pick up the knife and begin to carve, but nagging thoughts won’t shut up. Can you even eat this? Can you ever feel full again? Can it ever be the same again, now that you’ve binded yourself to immortality?

A hand rests on yours, Astarion moving your hand in his to finish cutting a slice of pork for your dish, spooning out a helping on the side of the rest. “Eat, my treasure,” he orders softly with that sly smile. “Things won’t be all that different for you now.” You look into his eyes. Sincerity, pride, a flicker of concern. “Things will be different for you than when I was a spawn. You are mine, your veins hold my blood, ascendant blood. And besides, if this doesn’t fill you to bursting, my dearest pet, I suppose I’ll just have to offer you something else in the privacy of our room later.”

You arch a brow, stomach growling at the promise. “I hope you mean more than your cock, Astarion.”

He just grins wider. Feral and sly. Then he places a hand at your back and brings you to the rest of your party. You can sense the relief among everyone else once you sit down on the little couch, Astarion settling so close beside you, your arms rub with every movement. But that is nothing new.

Everyone falls right back into that perfected camaraderie, the only thing missing in the inn is a campfire. The banter and the toasting and the storytelling of the day's events to those who remained behind.

Tonight was no different… and yet, everything was.

Your ears seem to hear every word in the room, more sensitive, more overwhelming. Your stomach gnaws on itself, the plate of food on your lap untouched yet. And then, there is the utterly unfamiliar sound beside you, the gnashing of Astarion’s teeth as he bites into his food with abandon. You watch from the corner of your eye. He can’t seem to shovel it in fast enough… like a man who hasn’t had a morsel to eat in two-hundred years. It’s so… strange. Watching his jaw work furiously, watching the juice of his meal trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Not unlike when he has fed on you, you laugh inwardly. You reach your thumb to clean it for him, and it makes him turn, cheeks full of food, eyes smiling. He takes your thumb in his hand, pressing the juice to your own lips. A silent command to suck. You close your eyes, savoring the brush of his warm touch, hiding your sight from having to observe the others watching you.

You part your lips and suck… stomach rolling in hunger, appetite thoroughly whet with just that drop on your tongue.

You feel his face press against your ear to whisper, “Different for you than it was for me, my treasure…”

You shake him off, too hungry for sensuality, digging into your meal and joining the banter slowly.

Astarion remains mostly silent, laughing to himself here and there. Other than him eating and drinking, he is right however, it isn’t all that different now, you observe. Not yet anyway.

Not until he has you alone in your rooms once more. Hands gripped hard into your hair, cock thrusting down your throat as you kneel before him. You gag and sputter, sucking greedily. Indulging him. Letting him feel that power he’s gained in his life for once. His wild smile as he watches you taking him in so well makes you practically drip on the floor from between your legs. He pants relentlessly, growling praises over you, his little love, his good girl, his greedy consort.

New words, new titles, same obsession.

Same fingers caressing your jaw as it works eagerly, same touch clawing into the back of your head.

Only now his cock pulses with his heart, his skin flushed, his cum warm when it inevitably trickles down the back of your throat.

You swallow, pursing your lips around his cock so he feels every little ripple of your cheeks, your throat. Astarion pants above you, and you can count every one of his heart beats through his shaft in your mouth. “Glorious little love,” he manages to speak, swallowing to wet his throat. “Claiming a kingdom is nothing compared to the sight of claiming you on your knees, darling…”

Two fingers slip under your chin, pressing firmly to release his cock from the wet of your mouth. “On your feet, my love,” he smirks. “Time to give your master all his tribute.”

“You are enjoying this far too much, Astarion,” you purse your lips, smiling faintly and tauntingly as you do stand. “I think you should allow me to choose how you receive your… what did you call it?” You plant your hands on the expanse of his shoulders, feeling the muscles moving under your touch as he reaches to grip into the swell of your ass.

“Tribute,” he purrs, squeezing that fullness commandingly in his palms.

“Oh yes, that,” you tease, devious twists to your lips as you give him a firm shove. But he holds tight, sending you both backwards into the bed. His chuckle rumbles in his chest beneath you. “Why doesn’t my lord make himself… comfortable,” you whisper into his pointed ear, watching it twitch as you run your tongue up its long edge.

“What do you have in mind to please me, my treasure?”

You press him down, clambering on his sprawled, flawless body beneath you, your hands closing around his wrists. His smile says it all as he lets you pin him, arms bent around his mess of silver locks. “You’re so… hot,” you moan, sliding yourself over his erection, feeling it jolting as your body slathers it in arousal.

“I know,” he tilts his head, flashing his fangs and grinding into your folds.

“No, I mean…” His eyes narrow, a flicker of suspicion. “Yes,” you correct with a giggle. “You are heartbreakingly handsome, devastatingly beautiful, ruinous…”

“Better,” he preens with a feral grin. “But you meant my body, my skin, my newly beating heart…”

“It is… different,” you hum, nuzzling into his neck, caressing those two little circular scars that made him what he is. His pulse beats against you, a steady drumming that still startles you.

“Almost as different as the way you make me even harder, darling, now that the mere sight of you demands instant arousal…” His hips buck through your folds again, just to demonstrate. “Now… about your adulation and homage that’s long overdue to your lord and master…”

“Shh,” you press a finger to his thick, wicked, smirking lips. Slinking down, a toss of your hair over one shoulder, and you meet his crimson eyes, dilated wide and glazed with his lust. Gently, you sweep both your hands over the sinews of his thighs, bending his knees for him.

Or, at least he lets you…

He nestles into the bed, languorous, luxuriating atop the thick covers. You let him. You can feel the difference in his being—not the power, the beat of his heart or the tingle of untamed magic that dances erratically in his touch from time to time.

He’s free. Not a care in the world. No fear, no anxiety, not even a trace of suspicion that he might be caught and forced back into hell under Cazador. He has everything now. Even you. Especially you.

You hover there, arms propped up over his hips, the tip of his cock wavering against your breasts as you just observe him. His lips twitch into a smile. “It’s rude to keep your lover waiting, you know…” he purrs. You chuckle. That veneer of power, that rasp and roll in his voice, a performance to sway you.

Not that you need it.

But it will be fun cracking that veneer all the same. You let your hands roam his body, massaging and caressing the powerful muscles of his legs. Their every definition you know by heart now, the glide of his skin on yours a nightly comfort and pleasure for you both.

Your new eyes can count every beat of his heart in his veins, your ears can almost hear that rush of blood pumping, making him achingly hard for you. And it makes you lick your lips. You lap inside his left thigh, bringing a giggle to his throat. “Don’t think I’ll leave you hungry, my pet, but pleasure first.”

“Say please,” you taunt, grazing your new fangs over his skin. As he has done to you a thousand times before.

“What?” he drolls, raising his head a little, your hand flying to the hard planes of his belly to hold him down.

“Say… please… my lord,” you smirk into his thigh, laughing to yourself as you mix submission into your demand.

“Eager to test your new powers as well? Can’t say I’m surprised…” he feigns a dramatic huff. “Alright pet, just this once. Give me my pleasure first…” he places a hand at the back of your neck, drawing you back between his legs, “…please.”

“Good boy,” you rasp before running your tongue up his shaft. You dip your lips over that seeping head of his, his groan of pleasure reverberating in his chest. Your hand, your mouth take him in deeply again, resuming a more delicate pressure, a gentler pace than he demanded of you before. It relaxes him, slowing his pleasure as you feel his skin heating all the more.

And you take full advantage of his ease.

You press a thumb over the tight little pursing of his ass. Instantly making him shake and groan. Both your hands play in tandem, drawing louder and louder hisses from his slack mouth as you beat his cock and circle that hole.

He squirms at the unexpected contact. A pant of need sounds from his mouth. You run your hand through your folds, covering your hand in your own slick, and he laughs knowing full well what you’re doing.

But that laughter melts once you sneak a finger and then two inside him, the delicious sound of his whimpers replacing any giggles. “Gods,” he mewls, “don’t you dare stop.” He manages to speak between the grunts you pull from his throat. Thrusting your fingers deeper inside him crooking and thrusting to make him catch his breath in pleasure. You feel his cock leaking seed down your fingers already, a whine escaping his clamped lips as you find that spot inside him. Cock jolting in your touch as you thrust into him again and again.

You lose no focus on that pulsing cock as well, your hand around his shaft sliding through the lingering spit and slick you’ve left dripping on his cock. His whole body shakes, and you can’t take your eyes off the way he’s coming undone. You’ve given up sucking him, your lips sore at any rate.

Instead, your hands work a magic on him, sweat beading on brow, fangs biting his own lips until they bleed. He clutches the bedding in his fists, and you watch as every vein in his arms strain to the surface with the exertion.

Hips buck in time with your fist around his cock, ass sinking back down on your fingers as he plummets back down each time. “More. I’d like more,” he groans hard, head wagging back and forth. You feel his muscles clenching around your fingers, and you slink another one inside, a louder whimper of approval is your praise. Words have failed him as he can do nothing now but ride the growing wave of pleasure you have sent washing over his oh-so-mighty and ascended form.

His balls tighten, cock shuddering in your fist as he struggles for breath. Every muscle, inside and out, goes rigid and spasms, your fingers covered as spurt after spurt of his cum erupts everywhere.

A hand flies to his face, palm over his mouth to hide the little pants he’s making as you squeeze out the last of his seed and slide your fingers out from inside.

“Is my lord… so… very… pleased?” you taunt, crawling to watch as he tries to regain composure, to salvage that dominating veneer of power.

Handsome face twitching, he can barely put two words together. “Obviously,” he manages to eke the word out. “That was…” he pauses to pant, body still shaking beneath you with the last tremors of his climax, “…amazing.” His arm comes to pull you into his chest, to press your supple, if cold to the touch, body into his embrace.

You hear it, the racing of his heart as you rest your head on his chest beside it. A slice of envy, of uncertainty, slices into your heart and twists your gut. And from the way his hand paws through your hair and down your back, you’re sure he’s readying himself for another round.

You swallow, hesitant, your thighs clenching as his hand begins to snake between them. He senses it, your unwitting reluctance. That familiar yet unfamiliar warm touch ghosting higher on your leg. “Darling,” he purrs into the top of your head, “something the matter?”

You shake your head even as your words scramble their own way out. “Last night,” you whisper almost inaudibly, “you said you would miss my warm flesh…”

“And…?” He lets the question hang in the air. Lets you speak the rest of it on your own tongue.

“Do you?” you mutter, unable to look into his face, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Not if it means I can plunder you for all your riches for all eternity, my treasure,” he croons, slowly rolling you on your back. Crushing you with his wiry frame until you wriggle against his every inch. “But, if you’re truly worried about how delicious you’ll feel…” he holds his wrist up to your mouth, “why don’t you break in those virgin fangs, my pet?”

“You mean?” you finally look up, the hunger in his eyes, the pride to see you licking your own new-formed sharpened teeth.

“I do indeed, my dark consort,” he smirks so wickedly, your own hunger for his blood and his body flames to life. It blinds you as you look into his eyes. “You’ll only need a taste,” he grins with a rakish tilt of his head, “I swear it.”

He presses the inside of his wrist to your lips, that warm skin brushing you with its softness. You can hear it, even in that small span of his wrist. Thump… thump… it makes your stomach flare, an empty pit, hungrier than you ever were for food.

And just for him.

You press your fangs into his skin. Hesitant.

A firm grip snakes behind the back of your neck, his laughter in your ear as he shoves you into his flesh harder.

Hard enough to pierce him, to let his blood flow on your tongue and tingle your mouth with its power. Rich and delicious, sweet and tanged with just the same flavor as his scent. You suck, greedily, a vague feeling you’ve tasted it before.

His other hand rubs up the back of your head, lacing his commanding touch through your hair, cradling you, keeping you feeding. His eyes flicker shut, tongue licking his lips before his mouth goes slack in his own pleasure.

He likes the way it feels, having you feast on him, drinking down his ascendant blood to pool in your belly.

“Can you feel it?” he murmurs, “my power flowing in your veins… my heart beating in your breast.” His hand ghosts down over your shoulder to cup firmly around that breast. “Your skin is flushing, your folds will swell even fuller the more you take me inside you…”

You release your mouth, a moan slithering from your sticky throat as his fingers pluck and play with your nipple.

“There is no one more worthy of this than you, my little love,” he slides his wrist from your lapping tongue, fingers clawing loosely around your throat to lift you against his own hungering lips. “You need not fear anything, I told you, not even the worry that your immortal flesh would ever repel me, my darling.”

You curl into his arms, letting his warmth seep through you, inside and out. His kiss dances slowly with your lips, his tongue licking all his blood from your fangs and lips. A hum of satisfaction rumbling in his throat, “Mmm… You taste… divine…”

“You mean… you taste divine, my love,” you laugh into his kiss. You place your hand against his neck, softly pushing him off of you.

“I do indeed,” he purrs, his knee shoving your thigh to the side, spreading you wider. “As do you, if I may?” His silver brow arches, wry and mischievous. You tilt your head, your neck already sore from last night, from where he sucked you dry. You hiss, delicious pain slicing through you, his fangs in your neck burying the same moment his cock sheaths into your folds.

Hip undulating slowly, he drinks noisily behind your ear. And you do feel on fire, burning as hot as him, the friction of his thrusts, the trickle of your blood down your neck… they scald you.

They make you feel alive in his arms, alive with him fucking between your thighs.

It’s enough to shatter you in a matter of moments, his lips barely off your bleeding neck before you clench and spam around his pulsing cock. Your voice tears from your throat in a scream. So much fuller and hotter than ever he felt inside your walls. Thicker. Heating you from within. The pressure drives you wild, your climax more intense than ever as you writhe beneath him, as stars cover your vision and pleasure steals your breath.

He laughs again, that tickled giggle to watch you panting to catch your breath, barely able to make a sound more than a whimper yourself. “That’s right, my pet, let them all hear you through these flimsy walls….”

You laugh, breathy and quick, wrapping your thighs tightly around his waist. “So quick to forget what I managed to reduce you to?” You steal a hand back to his clenching ass, returning your touch to that tight little hole.

He gasps, biting his lips as if to keep himself from crying out again. “Don’t you ever tell them,” he growls, smiling with that predacious gleam in the crimson of his eyes.

“I don’t need to,” you can’t help but laugh, letting the words already in your mind already make you smile. Even if they are his own… even if he just might make you pay deliciously for them for the rest of the night, “given the noise you made, I’m sure they already know…”

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queenshelby · 5 months

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part 24)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

As Tommy stood there, watching you leave the ceremony, his heart clenched in a way it never had before. He wanted to chase after you, to tell Lizzie that this was a mistake, but he couldn't. The weight of obligation and responsibility kept him anchored to the spot, bound by the promise he had made.

He had contemplated his options all night long, haunted by the memory of your lips on his and the way your body had felt against his own.

He was restless and as the priest kept on talking, he couldn't even focus on the words anymore. All he could think about was you, his niece - his forbidden love, and the life that they could never have together.

His body was tense, and his mind was absent when the priest as for his vows, Tommy simply looked at him, silently, causing the priest to repeat the question.

"Do you, Thomas Shelby, take Lizzie Stark to be your wife, as long as you both shall live?"

Tommy's gaze lingered on the priest for a long moment, his thoughts racing and conflicting emotions crashing over him. Finally, he swallowed hard and spoke up, in a strong, steady voice.

"Lizzie, I am forever grateful for your love and the life you've brought into mine, but I can't fucking marry you," Tommy said, with a serious look on his face but without an apology.

The entire church fell silent as the words sank in and Lizzie stood there, blinking slowly, her vows falling from her hands.

The look of shock and hurt on Lizzie's face made Tommy's heart beat quickly. Never before had he been so brutally honest about his feelings, but he could no longer deny what was inside of him anymore.

"Tommy?" Lizzie gasped softly, her hand reaching up to her throat in surprise. "What do you mean you can't marry me?" she asked, her words barely above a whisper as her heart raced in her chest.

Tommy shook his head, guilt etched into every line of his face.

"I am sorry Lizzie, but I can't do this. I thought I could, but I can't. There is a woman whom I love, and this woman is not you," he told Lizzie as her eyes filled with tears and she trembled from head to toe but she stood there, silent, unable to gather her thoughts.

The priest looked horrified as he watched the drama unfolding, not knowing what to do next.

Meanwhile, outside the church, you had heard Tommy's words and your heart sank.

You leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to catch your breath. Your heart ached within your chest as you realized that his words were about you.

But even as relief washed over you, guilt quickly followed. You knew that this was impossible, the attraction between you and Tommy - a love and desire that went beyond accepted norms, meaning this could never be.

"It's this fucking whore, isn't it?" you heard Lizzie scream through the thick walls of the church as her voice trembled with anger. "Your own fucking n...," she began to say but was immediately cut off by Polly who had rushed toward the couple on the alter the moment she had heard Lizzie's outburst.

"Now is not the time, nor the place, Lizzie," Polly said sternly, shielding Tommy from the wrath of his jilted bride as she was about to expose his secret affair with you.

The church remained silent, save for the heavy breathing of those present and distant whispers filling the air.

The shame burning on Lizzie's face was unbearable, and she lowered her eyes in defeat. Though her pride had been severely wounded, she wasn't naïve. She knew whom Tommy loved. But hearing him reject her in front of all these people was something she hadn't expected.

"Let's go and have a drink to calm your nerves and then we will talk about what happened," Polly said reassuringly, leading Lizzie away from the altar, and toward the exit.

Outside the church, you remained leaning against the wall, your thoughts swirling. You wondered what Tommy's next move would be and when he would come for you and when Lizzie saw you, calmly smoking a cigarette , she strode towards you, her eyes blazing with fury.

"You are the reason for this," Lizzie accused you, causing your heart to race within your chest. "The whole world thinks that I am a laughing stock now, but let me assure you, I will make your life even more miserable than you made mine you fucking whore," Lizzie told you while you remained silent, unwilling to confirm or deny her accusations.

"Lizzie, time and place! Let's go!" Polly interrupted, quickly leading Lizzie away from you and towards her Bentley.

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched them leave.

The tension was thick in the air, and you could feel every eye on you. The whispers grew louder, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of shame creeping up your neck.

You quickly dropped your cigarette onto the gravel and crushed it beneath your heel, before straightening your shoulders as you finally saw Tommy, walking towards you alongside your father.

"Now that was a fucking disaster," your father said with a whistle, but you didn't find the situation funny in the least. "Let's get pissed, eh? And forget that this ever happened, shall we?" he then suggested, causing his wife Linda to shake her head.

"No Arthur, let's get home," she told him sternly while you turned to Tommy, searching his deep blue eyes for answers, but all you could find were reflections of your own guilt.

Being in the presence of your father, you knew that he couldn't say anything, and neither could you. The tension between you and Tommy was palpable, the moments stretching on as you both took each other in.

You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he feeling regret and remorse for not being able to go through with the marriage? Or was he glad to be free of his loveless relationship right now?

Arthur's eyes darted between his brother and you, sensing the tension but unsure of its actual cause. You could feel yourself growing more anxious by the second, your heart hammering within your chest and, as Linda demanded for your father to leave with her, you were glad to finally have a chance to speak your mind.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I should never have come here," you murmured softly, your eyes brimming with unshed tears as you tried to communicate all the emotions that were coursing through your veins in a single silent look.

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes searching yours for any hint of regret or resistance.

"No," he finally said, clearing his throat. "I am glad you did, because you made me realise something that I have forgotten ever since I returned from France," he added, his voice stronger and more assured than you had ever heard it before. "None of this matters. This business. Money. Fucking nothing matters ," Tommy muttered, his voice low and passionate. "Fuck parliament and fuck this deal. Let's just fucking leave, eh? Just you, me and our son," he continued to say, all of his previous restraint thrown to the wind.

You stared at him, your heart fluttering wildly with shock. His words lingered in the air between you like a promise of something new and unexplored. The thought of leaving everything behind, of starting anew, was terrifying and you quickly quietened him down.

"Sshh , not here," you murmured, taking in a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

The last thing you wanted was for the rest of your family to hear his words and realize what he had just confessed to you. This desire, this forbidden love, could never see the light of day.

In another time and place, perhaps it could have grown into a beautiful reality, but not within the narrow-minded constraints of 1920's England.

"If I know one thing Thomas Shelby, it is that you could never live a life away from fucking Birmingham. You crave this. You crave the power and the thrill of it all. After France, this is exactly what you needed. Your mind needs to be occupied, and you are good at it. You are exactly where you belong and I know that you will never be able to live a quiet life with me, away from family, without losing part of yourself," you continued, with a sad smile.

Tommy stared back at you, unable to deny the truth in your words. His whole life had been dedicated to this life, and he knew that nothing else would truly satisfy the deep-seated desire for power and control. It was an addiction of sorts, one that he couldn't simply shake off even if he wanted to.

With that, he nodded in defeat before, without many more words, leading you to his Bently just as the last of the guests came walking out of the church with a look of disappointment on their faces.

"This is not the way back to Arrow House," you noticed as Tommy started driving, leaving the whispers of the guests far behind.

"No, it is not. I need to go somewhere else. Somewhere where I can think," he told you finally, after minutes of silence, before taking a left turn to a place you had not been before.

As the Bentley took the final bend in the country road, your breath caught in your throat. The landscape was bathed in the golden glow of sunlight breaking through the clouds; its rays illuminated a sprawling green hill and a small Gypsie wagon.

"What is this place?" you asked him, eyes widening to take in the sight before you that tugged at your heartstrings more than any erotic encounter ever had. This place seemed magical and romantic; two things you thought were impossible with Tommy Shelby.

"This is where I come when I want to be alone," he said, pulling to a stop just short of where the wagon stood.

"But you are not alone. I am right here with you," you said gently, reaching over to rest your hand on top of his.

Your voice was soft but it carried a strength that echoed within him; it brought comfort beyond anything he had ever experienced before.

Tommy parked the car and led the way up the hill. At the top, as your breath caught in your chest once more, this time at the beauty all around you, he paused, watching you take in your surroundings before he began to speak.

" This place belonged to my mother. When she died, the land and the wagon were given to my uncle. I spent a lot of time here growing up, and it's still where I come whenever I need to think," Tommy revealed, the words slipping out as easily as if he had been telling you about his day instead of something far more deeply personal.

A haunted look lingered in his eyes, and for a moment, you could almost see the boy who mourned the loss of his mother and sought solace in a wagon tucked away on a high hill.

"Do you want to tell me what it is that you are thinking about?" you asked Tommy, as you both stared off into the distance.

Your hand remained on top of his and your thumb absentmindedly traced circles across the back of it as you watched a little bird fly past, soaring effortlessly through the air before disappearing from view.

Tommy turned his head towards you, blue eyes meeting yours before he glanced down at your hand and slowly lifted it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it.

"I am thinking about how to make this work," he replied softly, watching as the breeze stirred loose tendrils of your hair around your face.

His voice was calm, but you could sense the urgency in his words, a silent plea for you both to find a way.

"You know you can't just leave everything behind and run off with me and we cannot be together otherwise. Not with your family knowing," you said gently, your heart heavy with the reality of their situation.

You couldn't pretend that things could be any different, no matter how much you longed for them to be.

Tommy nodded slowly before turning to look out across the fields once again.

He released a long, slow sigh before finally speaking.

"I know, but I will come up with a plan to make this fucking work, eh," he started, a determined look glinted in his eye as, suddenly, he heard a voice speak up behind the two of you.

"It better be as good as my plan," your aunt Polly said, startling you both, even causing Tommy to draw his gun.

Polly raised an eyebrow with some amusement as she calmly stepped forward while Tommy put his weapon away, back into the holster beneath his suit jacket.

"How did you know how to find us?" Tommy asked , surprise and concern in his voice.

"I have eyes everywhere," Polly replied, with a quiet chuckle. "I knew about your mother's wagon for years and the peace it brought you when the world felt out of control, especially when you came back from France" she said as she took a seat on a patch of grass next to you.

"Now listen, I have spoken to Lizzie and she agreed to keep your little secret safe so long as you provide generously for her and Ruby, the monies for which, I may add, will not come out of the company's account," Polly said sternly as she stared at Tommy, waiting for his reply.

Tommy's eyes narrowed in thought before he finally nodded, understanding the weight of the situation.

"Of course," Tommy replied simply.

Polly looked at him for a long moment before she finally spoke up once more.

"Now, as far as your relationship with each other is concerned, I suggest that Y/N and your son remain with you at Arrow House for their own protection," Polly continued in a business-like manner.

"Protection from what?" you asked , your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked from your aunt to Tommy.

"Protection from the men who burned down the Midland Hotel," Polly explained, causing Tommy to furrow his eyebrows as well.

"These men have been dealt with, Pol," Tommy explained, causing his aunt to smile.

"I know, but Arthur, John and the rest of our men don't know that, which ultimately gives Y/N and her son a reason to stay with you for now," Polly said, glancing at you before she finally continued. "It is the perfect disguise for you to continue this rather inappropriate relationship with one another without anybody finding out about it," Polly then chuckled , causing you to blush slightly while Tommy frowned at his aunt's playful jab and whilst she did not exactly approved of what you were doing with each other, she knew that, without you, Tommy had been miserable, leading him to make bad and dangerous business decisions.

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