#vampires can see their reflection in mirrors now

[krazieka2]

Vampire Mercedes lore doodles (and vampire Lorenz bullying)

[eldrichthingy]

Thinking about how often ascended Astarion refers to Tav/Durge as "beautiful" and the fact that they can no longer see themselves in mirrors. Oh my god?

[eff-plays]

The way Astarion reacts depending on how you compliment him in the mirror scene (I have no interest in insulting him so I won't be covering that here, have fun though!) drives me fucking insane.

"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."

And you get two types of responses. First, your choices for compliments are

Strong, piercing eyes.

The creases when you laugh.

Pick the first, and he's pleased. "Go on," he says, sounding very seductive. You're giving him exactly what he wants, and he's encouraging it.

Pick the second, and he gets upset. He's an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother! You can do better than that. Even if you meant it as a compliment (I know my Tav definitely did), he doesn't seem to take it that way.

Your second options are

That dangerous smile.

The way your hair curls around your ears.

Once again, the first one pleases him, and he even praises your efforts. Very good. Now finish the scene and tell him he's beautiful.

But if you say the second, he gets exasperated. This is meant to be flattery, not poetry. Just tell him he's beautiful and we can call it a day, he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He doesn't need to hear this crap, just tell him what he wants and fuck off.

Of course, it doesn't matter how you get to this point, and every dialogue option at the end of the scene nets you the same amount of approval. If you call him beautiful, it's +1. Call someone else beautiful, it's +1. If you ask whether he just wants shallow praise (aka don't call him beautiful), you get +1. So this is me pulling this out of my ass I guess.

I always choose to call him beautiful becuase 1) he is and 2) my Tav thinks so too and would oblige him if he asked for it that directly.

But I am obsessed with the different routes you can take to get to this point and what they imply.

Strong, piercing eyes and dangerous smile pleases him more outwardly, but doesn't actually affect the outcome. He's satisfied and confident with these compliments. They confirm what he's trying to project into the world, what he aspires to have and to be.

The creases when he laughs? The hair curling around his ears? Those are things he can't control, can't use against someone else. But he asked to be seen, and if this is what Tav sees, then what does that mean for him?

Why are they complimenting his laugh lines? Why are they speaking poetry at him? Why are they seeing things he has no control over, and why are they revealing them to him?

He doesn't want shallow praise. Questioning this nets approval, and giving it to him doesn't increase approval. What he wants is assurance that what he's trying to be is what the world sees, that he's in control.

And if you actually act as a mirror, point out the things unique to him that you see, he gets uncomfortable, because you're showing a reflection of someone he thinks he's not, of someone he has no control over. And that's scary, even if it's supposedly complimentary.

Because what's scarier than losing control?

But then, compared to how genuinely upset he seems when you insult him (I looked these up on YT for context), the laugh lines and hair curls are still accepted as compliments. So what does he think when Tav says these things?

They see past his piercing eyes and dangerous smile. They see something else that they like even more, things he's not aware of or doesn't appreciate as much. What does that feel like, to cultivate such a perfect image of oneself for the purposes of seducing and tricking others, and then be stumped when someone walks past all that and points out something entirely different that they noticed and found endearing?

Do you do him a favor, and tell him you see only what he wants to be? Or do you speak the truth, and show him what he actually is? Which one is better? Which one is worse?

[volturissideslut]

Can you pretty please make a japer hale/Cullen one where if he saw his human mate crying and what he would do. He's my biggest comfort character and I would appreciate it so dearly but, if not that is completely okay I promise you. 🫶

Ps. I love you're writing I read you're page when I'm feeling down and just through out the day. It brings me comfort and happiness I appreciate you as a person in this world of ours. You are amazing and you are doing an amazing and lovely job.

𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖊

"Darlin'?" his country accent rings out through your dark and empty room,his vampire eyes easily letting him locate you hurried in the covers on your bed where you sniffle quietly.

He watches in the reflection of your mirror as you squeeze your eyes shut, almost af if it would hide you from the world. If he wasn't so worried about you right now he'd chuckle at the sincerity and childishness at it.

"Bad day, Darlin?" he tries again, and you hum back in response - unable to get your voice to work right now.

At that, he's kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed with you, turning your lamp on as he goes so you can see him. Her pulls you close to him and holds you tight.

"want to talk about it?"

You shake your head no.

"want me to use my gift?"

You hesitate, but ultimately shake your head no.

"... want me to leave?"

You shake your head no.

His thumb rubs soothing circles into your side and the sniffles die down eventually. "I'll let you have tonight, but I want you to talk to me tomorrow. Is that okay, sugar?" his accent becomes a bit thicker in the vulnerable moment.

You nod, turning over and hugging him tightly. Face buried in his neck and arms holding him tight, you mumble a small "thank you, Jasper" before you fall asleep in his icy warm embrace.

[mangowafflesss]

Antique Soldiers | Ghost!141

Summary: Going into an antique store you're drawn to a beautiful box which is sealed until you take it home only for the inhabitants inside be released.

Word Count: 5K+

Mythic Month HQ

★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★

You were going to stay inside today, maybe curl up onto your sofa and watch your favourite films but no. You decided to help out your friend instead, you loved her with all of your heart but sometimes you really hate the fact you can never say no to her, which means you agreeing to do things without even realising what you’re agreeing to. 

She was directing some production for her end of term project. Creating some sort of crack den for vampires. You weren't really paying attention to what it was about but you agreed to be on set design. You've never done anything like that before but all she said was it to be ‘spooky vampire vibes’. 

You had spent all last night in your bed with your laptop on Pinterest, you were so far into your research of ‘vampire vibe’ decor that you hadn’t realised the sun was starting to rise and you were significantly hungrier than before. 

Tugging your coat tighter around yourself you trek down the highly decorated streets. It was close to halloween so you dodged carved pumpkins and hanging cobwebs from shop signs and awnings. Your town always goes all out even though it really isn't a popular holiday around these parts.

You stop in your tracks as you spot your destination in front of you. An old antique shop that sells things for dirt cheap. The owner has lived above it for years, there's a silly rumour that they're actually a witch but you don't believe in such things. 

The front door opened with a jingle of a bell which echoed around the quiet shop. You felt uneasy as you ventured into the small space. There were so many things in here so you were careful to not accidentally knock anything over. You walked past a mirror that had definitely survived a fire or something, the reflection was all hazy and the outsides were black with specks of the original gold peeking through. It looked like there was someone else standing inside of it but you quickly looked away before you fully saw anything. 

Feeling a shiver go up your spine you have a sudden feeling you're being watched. You looked around you but couldn't see anyone - not even a worker. Weird. 

As you look through shelves of things, you come across a table with a small box sitting on it. It was absolutely beautiful, it was silver with blue gems embedded into different slots. Picking it up you look at it closer and feel something move around inside, feeling curious you try to open it but sadly you can't. 

“Beautiful isn't it” you flinch as you turn and see a woman standing next to you. Her dark hair covered part of her face but you could clearly make out the wrinkles decorating her face. 

“How much is it? There isn't a price tag” you blurt out and ask before you even realise you said anything. Is it weird to be drawn to something so much? The woman gives it a long look before smiling at you “free, take it” you furrow your brows at her and then look at the box in your hands. It looked so precious and expensive, why would she give it to you for free?

“Are you sure? I can always give you something” you offer while moving towards your purse but a hand on your arm stops you “take it, it's yours now” is all she says before walking away leaving you alone once more. 

You exited the store but then came to the realisation that you didn't buy anything for your set. You look back through the window of the store and see the ‘closed’ sign swinging as if it was just turned. “Great… just great” you huff and then notice that it's a lot darker outside. How long were you in there for?

Looking down at the box in your arms you groan at your stupid infatuation with it but hold it closer to your chest and storm back to where you parked your car. 

It had been a couple of days and you woke up to the feeling of your apartment freezing cold. Pulling on a warm jumper, you pull the sleeves over your hands to try and gain some warmth into them. Rubbing your arms you walk over to the thermostat, but when you see the temperature you become confused. It's a normal temperature so why do you feel so cold?

Moving further into your home the temperature changes and you test the different rooms. Every room was the temperature it was supposed to be except your bedroom. Walking over to your whiteboard of things to remember you write down ‘call maintenance’ onto the list.

Sighing you go back into your freezing bedroom and get changed then grab your bag to go to your first class. What you don't realise is that the pretty sealed box you bought a couple of days ago was laying wide open on the top of your dresser. 

Your day was long and your friend was breathing down your neck about this stupid set design so you stayed behind and finished it off. When you get home you go into your bedroom and get ready for the shock of a cold temperature but when it doesn’t come you freeze. “Hmm maybe I don't have to call maintenance after all” you smile before going to your board and wipe the note off but then see the black marker is smeared over the white background. Looking closer it looks like finger marks which confuses you “What the?”

*BANG*  

You flinch at the sudden sound and peer around the corner to where you heard the sound come from. You see your bedroom door is now shut and eye it suspiciously before taking a deep breath and slowly walking towards it. If someone was inside of your apartment you would have seen them due to the lack of size and space you have but then again how do you explain the wiped off marker. 

Either it was an intruder or your friend was playing a trick on you, she had a spare key and has loved playing pranks on you since you were in high school. Taking another big deep breath you shake off your tense shoulders and grip the bedroom door handle, twisting it fast and barge through the door to find nothing. 

“I must be going crazy” you huff a laugh and then stop when something catches your eye. There was a reflection in your mirror and it looked like a man but it quickly disappeared and you looked all around your room and your eyes landed on something else.

The box.

Slowly walking over to where it sat on your dresser, the blue silk interior grabs your attention and you eagerly look inside only to find… dogtags?

Reaching inside you hold one up in the air and read it “Kyle Garrick” quirking an eyebrow up you gather the others into your hands and also read their names “Well Kyle, Johnny, Simon and John I don't know if you're real but if you are why are you in a box?” you question and feel something breathe in your ear. You flick your head to the side and look behind you, you're starting to get freaked out now but something in the back of your mind is laughing at you. 

Your gut feeling was saying for you to run, your eyes look at your open bedroom door and you dart for it. As you were about to pass through the threshold it slammed shut in your face and you grabbed the handle which was red hot. Letting out a hiss you hold your hand and feel the top layer of your skin burn. 

Backing away from the door you look at your window and groan when you realise they don't open far due to you being so high up. Reaching for your phone you pick it up but then you see the battery is dead “What the fuck?” you could've sworn it was at least 40%.  

Throwing it down on your bed your mind keeps nagging at you to go to the box. Glancing over at the glistening silver material you hesitate before touching it again. The dogtags were still laying inside and you picked all of them up, holding them in one hand as you investigated the box. You felt along the silk interior for anything stuck into it but you couldn't find anything. Flipping it upside down however an engraving stood out to you with a familiar name carved in the silver. 

Your name was in bold capital letters, you ran your thumb along it and felt every indent of each initial. “This has to be some sort of joke” you put it back down and go to pick up your phone to charge it and call someone, you need answers and you have a feeling your friend was behind this. 

As you turn around you let out a scream when you see four men looking at you. Your hand tightened around the dog tags wrapped around your hand as you stood there frozen on the spot. 

Get out of there!  Your mind screamed at you but you were in some sort of daze. 

You tried to move but your feet were stuck and your heartbeat got faster with every breath you took. “Don't be afraid we're not going to hurt you” one says with his arms raised in the air, he took a step towards you but you managed to step back, your ass was pressed up against the dresser and you felt behind you. The box was in reach and you flung it at them but watched in horror as it went through them. The loud clattering sound was the only noise filling your senses. 

“What the fuck?” is all you managed to get out before making a break for it and ran towards them, all logic in your mind went out of the window at your actions but they were guarding the door and you needed to get out of here. 

Arms however wrapped around your body and you were flung to the bed and held down “let me go!” you wiggle around to get yourself free but it was no use, you were stuck and it sucked terribly.  

“Calm down! breathe in through your nose and exhale through your mouth” someone grabs your chin and your face to face with one of the men, he has scars on his face which somehow seemed to calm you down. Some connected with one another and you snapped out of it when you felt something lightly tap your face. 

“Hey… we won't hurt you, my name's Kyle. What's yours?” his voice was soft and you almost fell into the security of it until you came back to reality. The other man had already let go of you but you scrambled up your bed until you were sitting on your pillows with your back to the headboard. You were shaking slightly and the cold feeling from this morning had come back. You looked at each individual who was surrounding your bed, they watched you with curious eyes but they didn’t seem to look threatening. Okay maybe they did a little with their big bodies but there was something trusting about them. 

After what felt like forever you crawled to the bottom of your bed and reached out a hand, carefully pushing through the abdomen of the scarred man. “This is insane…” you breathe out and a shiver goes up your arm, goosebumps raising along with your hairs. 

You saw movement in the corner of your eye and another man stood before you with something in his hand. You looked at him and he dropped the item in your hand which was one of the dog tags. “Johnny Mactavish, is this you?” he nods his head and you grab the rest which are sprawled out on your bed and gather them in your palm. 

“These belong to all of you?” 

“Yes they do” 

“Why are they in a box though in some antique store?” you had to ask the question but maybe they didn't even know. “Dunno but it's stuffy in there” one of them jokes and you stare blankly at him. 

You're joking with ghosts… dead people are in front of you right now and you’re joking with them as if they are still alive. 

Sighing heavily you ask for them to introduce themselves to you and then they slip each of their tags around your neck, they jingled with every move you made but you didn't mind it. You didn't feel comfortable talking to them in your room so you asked them to go to the living room instead, while you thought they would open the door they didn't and instead walked through it. 

When you entered your living room they were all waiting for you, each with different types of smiles on their faces, you sat on the sofa with your head in your hands. 

“So you guys are ghosts”

“Yes” they say in unison and you run your palms down your face and groan “okayyy and how did you die?” you ask but then they begin to awkwardly look at each other clearly uncomfortable with the question.        

You felt something lower itself next to you and John looks at you with a solemn expression on his face “We were on a mission but unfortunately couldn't trust the information we were given, we were captured and executed on the spot, youngest first up to the oldest” you let out a gasp at his words and went to give him a friendly touch of reassurance only for your hand to go through him. 

“I'm sorry…” your hand hovers over where his shoulder is and he appreciated the gesture and placed his hand on yours. Your hand felt as if it was inside of the freezer by his touch and he could tell you were uncomfortable and retreated it. 

As you stared at his hand you were suddenly curious about something “How is it that I can see you guys?” you look over to the others and Simon steps forward “We're showing ourselves to you, also you have something we’re attached to” he points to the metallic chains around your neck which makes you look down at them and touch them. 

“Why can I only touch you some of the time?” You turned to John and he tapped his head “It takes a lot of concentration, can’t do it all the time or else then you won’t be able to see or hear us” you nod your head as you take in the information and then stand up. 

“I see… When did the box open?” you asked while standing there and tapping your pointer finger on your lip in thought. “Around this morning” Johnny says and everyone agrees with murmurs and nods. 

“So what you're saying is you watched me sleep and get dressed today” you looked at him and he seemed to freeze on the spot and become flustered. “Umm well uh…” he slowly disappeared from your vision and you sighed “Really? Even in death guys are still creeps” 

“We are not creeps! You just didn’t know we were there” Kyle states and you narrow your eyes at him before rolling them and walking to your front door.

“Well it was nice meeting you but you may leave now, go bother someone else” you motion to the hallway outside your apartment and they stay where they are and then Johnny comes back into view shaking his head side to side. 

“Come on, gooo” you move your arm quickly hoping it'll spur them into movement but they're all still rooted like a tree. 

“We can't. We're stuck here” Simon says flatly “You fucking with me right. No?” your mouth was open like a fish out of water and you slammed the door behind you not realising its currently very late and your neighbours are probably asleep. 

“Well if you’re going to be here all the time then we’re going to have to have some rules” you stand like a mother with your hands on your hips and giving each individual a look to let them know you're serious. 

“Of course. What are your rules?” John sits on the arm of your sofa and waits patiently, you appreciate the gesture and his respect for you. 

“Everyone just come over here please” you motion to your sofa and they all do as you say. You stand in front of them pacing. 

“Okay so first, no going in my room” they all nod and you bite your lip while trying to think of another rule. “Secondly, no - ummm. Bathroom! Do not go in there okay?” Kyle lets out a small giggle and you sigh. 

“That’s all I got” you say, shrugging your shoulders and collapsing into your armchair. You were exhausted from your busy day and the showing up of your new ‘roommates’. Running a hand down your face you let out a yawn and then there was a knock at your door. 

Walking over, the guys as well, you look through your peephole and see who it is. Opening it you see your neighbour standing there. “Thank goodness you answered, are you okay dearie? I heard you pacing around and… you talking to yourself” the older woman played with her cardigan button and you just stared blankly at her “Oh, I was- on the phone” you give her a smile but her eyes cast to the side of you which makes you panic. 

“Why is your hair floating?” She didn’t seem fazed by what she said but your shoulders tense when you feel a cool breeze run up your back. Reaching up to your head you smooth down the hairs, Kyle pops up next to you with a cheeky smile on his face but you remain calm in front of your neighbour who looks… worried for you. 

“I was rubbing a balloon on my head. The static and stuff” You state and she seems to become more worried “A balloon?” She looked down at her watch and then back to you “Sweetheart why don’t you go get yourself some sleep okay? And I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning” she says, softly grabbing your hand in a caring manner. 

After saying your goodbyes you shut your door softly not wanting to wake your neighbours at 3am. Turning swiftly on your heel you march towards Kyle “That wasn’t funny!” You whisper yell but all he does is shrug his shoulders and laugh. “It was funny. For me anyway” he seemed very happy with himself as he joyfully walked around your living room, looking at the photos on the walls and knocking a blanket off the back of your sofa on purpose. 

“I'll put you back in the box!” you threaten and he turns around and puts his hands together while falling onto his knees “Oh please don't! I don't deserve such punishment” he laughs and you grumble something under your breath before slowly backing out of the room “John please keep him away from my stuff, you're my favourite as of now” “Hey what about me?!” Johnny shouts but you’re already in your room getting ready to go to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning you had hoped everything was a dream until you opened your bedroom door to a six foot something Simon. “Fuck me! Why are you standing there?” you placed a hand on your chest to steady your beating heart while walking through him. “I was coming to see if you were awake” he followed you as you walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. 

“Why?” 

“The guys were annoying me”

“So you thought to come and annoy me” 

You were grabbing your favourite mug from the cupboard and prepared your drink for the water. “I wanted to ask you something” you hummed for him to continue as you grabbed a spoon. “The box had your name on it, why?” you stopped where you stood by the sink and turned to face him “Thank you for reminding me” you smiled before walking past him and going to your room to find it. 

When you entered it was still on the floor from when you threw it at them and your name was still engraved into the bottom. As it was tipped upside down something flew out and you looked down at the ground to see a piece of paper laying next to your foot. That most definitely wasn't there yesterday. Bending down to pick it up you turned it around and read the inky words on the page.   

‘May these souls be reunited with their owner’    

“Owner? That sounds like some bullshit don't you think” you look to your side but don't see Simon with you. Poking your head out to where your door is you see him leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why didn't you follow me? I was talking to you”      

“Did you really forget your own rules already?” 

You did forget but he didn't need to know that. “No… but we were having a conversation so that means you could come in” you held your head high and he just gave you one look and came inside of your room. 

You show him the paper in your hand and he reads it, there wasn't any emotion on his face so you didn't really know what he was thinking. “Where did you get this from?” He points to the paper and then you show him the box that was tucked under your armpit. 

“It flew out when I was reading the bottom” 

He turned on his heel while holding the box and walked away from you. “Where are you going?” you chase after him and the tags around your neck clashed together as you did so. 

When you walk into the living room the guys are all there surrounding your coffee table as they stare at the box Simon placed down along with the note. 

“What does it mean?” “How do we know that she didn’t put it there last night” 

They turned to look at you in unison and you somewhat felt like you were under some sort of investigation. “Why would I write something like that? Even I don't know what it means” 

“Well clearly it means that she is our owner and this box belongs to her” 

“Why did you buy this box in the first place?” John asks you and you give it a look and walk towards it. 

“I was buying some things for a project and this was the only thing I picked up. I immediately asked for the price but the woman gave it to me for free, I never saw the engraving on the bottom” you say in the most honest way you could. “I was somewhat attracted to it” your eyes were glued to the shiny material. 

“Did the woman seem weird at all?” Kyle asks and you look at him and think “Not really… she approached me out of nowhere and that was it” 

“What did she look like?” 

“What's with all the questions? It was just some old lady who said I could take it and that's it” you don't know why you got so defensive but they were starting to annoy you and you've only known them for a day. 

“Black hair?” 

“Seemed like she would smell funky” you stared at Johnny and made a face of disgust “Uh yeah…” they moved in an instant and came towards you, their bodies were so close and you felt intimidated. 

“When we died we saw a woman like that and then she put us in that very box” John explained while pointing to the coffee table. “Should we go to the store and see if she's there?” you say looking at each of them and then shake your head as you remembered they can’t leave… or can they?

Turning around to your front door you opened it but then jumped out of your skin when you saw your neighbour standing there “Are you okay sweetie? I brought you breakfast” giving her a smile you quickly take it out of her hands and bring it inside before sending her back to her apartment. 

“Follow me” 

“We-” 

“Come outside, trust me” you beckon them over with your hand and they give each other a shrug before Kyle comes running towards the door. You watch from the hallway outside your apartment, him coming your way, you had no idea if it would work but it's worth a try - and he's really trusting you in this. 

He closed his eyes and ran straight over the threshold of your entrance. A smile spread over your face and the others inside looked confused “I think it has to do with these” you say while holding up the dog tags around your neck. “They were in the box, sooo if I take them with me so can you” that was your logic around it but you had no idea this idea would even work but you're glad it did. 

“Simon grab the box and let's go!” you march away until you hear your name being called “Aren't you forgetting something?” John says and points to your feet, nodding your head you go back into your apartment and grab some shoes and also your car keys. 

Walking down the streets with the knowledge that there are four ghosts with you and no one else knows makes you feel weird. You tried not to speak to them as you didn’t want the surprisingly busy streets to think you're talking to them or yourself…

You saw the shop ahead and headed towards it in a more hurried manner, you wanted to find this woman and wanted answers as to why she's given you four ghosts.  

Opening the door the same bell jingled above the door and a woman greeted you. You've never seen her before but walked up to the counter anyway. “Hi, I was sold this box a couple of days ago and I wanted to see if the woman who sold it me was here” 

The blonde gave you a smile and then frowned when she looked down at the item on the counter. “I'm sorry but we didn't sell you this” she says and you shake your head “No I came in here and picked it up from a table in the back” you point in the general direction but she gives you a disappointing smile and shakes her head. 

“Well is the woman here? Dark hair and around this height” you measure where the woman was up to you and the woman shakes her head yet again “I’m the only one who works here, I'm sorry I can’t help you”  

You watch as Simon and Johnny walk through the counter and investigate the back room, the girl must've felt the breeze of their bodies and turned around. You were so glad she couldn't see them. 

“Have you ever had anyone of that description come in before?” you question and she turns back around to you and taps the counter thinking of an answer. “Nope not many people come in here so I would remember someone like that” 

You see the guys reemerge from the back and Johnny gives you a shrug of the shoulders “Nothing there” Simon says and you admit defeat and pick up your box and turn to leave. When you walk back outside your shoulders sag and a frown appears on your face “I guess we’ll never know why she gave me this box” you kick a stone across the floor and walk back to your car with the guys behind you.   

“It'll be okay, you got four smoking men to live with now, anyone would die for that” you hear Kyle say from his place next to you and you let out a laugh and unlock your car. 

“I don’t particularly find dead people attractive, no offence” 

Weeks later you and the guys have been getting along. 

Price helped you build a bookshelf, which was collecting dust for years in its box. He couldn't actually do it for you but he told you where each thing went, it wasn’t helpful when Kyle stole one of the screws. Apparently he wasn't always like this, a jokester yes but never this playful. You didn't mind it really, it was a little annoying sometimes but he’d bring it back… after begging for it. 

Simon and Johnny helped you bake. You were making some cupcakes for your friend's birthday party and you were on strict duty to make your ‘yummy cupcakes’. They weren't even special but if people liked them, then that's all that matters. Johnny did tie the apron a little too tight around your waist but you didn’t mind breathing with how he smiled so brightly at the thought he was helping you. Simon read out the recipe - even though you didn’t need it - he did read it softly but sometimes his lieutenant side came out and yelled at you for not following them directly.    

You hadn’t gotten used to the fact that they just pop up out of nowhere. Playing tricks on you, making you jump or drop things when they reach out to grab you but don’t show themselves. It was as if they were trying to give you a heart attack and become like them.

You had found their social media that was never deleted and laughed at their pictures, they were bad… really bad. They didn't appreciate your judgemental looks and your laugh crying and threw things at you. 

Whenever you had friends over you would have to beg them to behave but you would see them in the corner of your eye touching your friends hair or making the room unbearably cold. You had to lie and say it was just your apartment because there was no chance they would believe you had ghosts living with you, 

Their dog tags were laid safely inside of the silver box on your dresser, you only wore them unless you wanted to take them out of your house, Johnny claimed it was as if they were your pet. You did remind him of the ominous note of you being their owner  and he ripped it up and threw it out of the window, very dramatic.  

You'd never see the woman again and you frequented the antique store after your class just to try to see her but you never got close. She just disappeared. 

It was okay though, living with ghosts isn't actually as bad as it seems.

[feyascorner]

(request/prompt? something?)

so… i think it’s been talked about a decent amount how astarion doesn’t have a reflection being a vampire spawn and all, and the ascended dialogue he has looking in the mirror for the first time in forever honestly gets me, even if the ascension isn’t the best ending for him.

how do you think spawn astarion would react to tav enchanting a mirror just for the purpose of him finally being able to see his reflection? maybe they got gale to do it, or maybe it was their own work. i just want this silly little bloodsucker to see his face again without becoming evil 😭

I was absolutely devastated when I found out I couldn't make spawn astarion see himself :( I wish we could've at least drawn him or something.

Can you imagine him not even recognizing himself? Like he looks at the mirror and he thinks it’s someone else for a second, until Tav explains it’s him.

And he's like “Oh.”

He observes himself for a minute. It’s almost sad, really, because he remembers so little of the version of himself that once worked as a magistrate able to bathe in the sunlight. He runs his hand against his jawline, staring at his smile lines, and then he looks to you.

“I see why you're so eager to adore me.”

You can tell he’s emotional, because Gods is it nice to actually see himself after centuries of being in the dark. But he's making jokes, because he really is happy for what you did for him, it's just bittersweet because it reminds him of what he's lost.

He returns to examining himself, grinning. “At least you were lying about the moles. I'm beyond exquisite. Hells, even moles couldn't disguise my beauty.”

You just smile, knowing that he needs to process his own feelings, and he’ll speak to you about how he truly feels when he's ready. “You are.”

“Still nothing compared to you, darling,” he turns to you, resting a palm against your cheek. “Well—now that I've seen myself, I believe you may have some competition.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. But he takes your hand and guides you in front of him so he can see both of you in the reflection. He's smiling, and despite the bittersweetness of the moment, he looks happy. He is happy. “Thank you, love. I won't forget this.”

You squeeze his hand he squeezes right back.

[quill-and-quiver]

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: baldur's gate 3 | astarion acunín x gn!reader 𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: When Astarion lets it slip that he hasn't seen his own face since he became a vampire spawn, you take it upon yourself to be his eyes. And, as you assure him, he has a very good face. 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: artist!reader (sorta) | if u noticed anything i missed, pls let me know! 𝚆/𝙲: 2k — 9 min read time .·:*¨༺➻𝙰/𝙽: i'm so sure someone's already done this but ever since this scene triggered for me in like act 1 i been THINKING bout it. i combined some of the dialogue results for this one. he also never is not pretty like ??? r u joking. AND reqs are open! 🤍 mills

✧❦༺ 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 |.☽.| 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 |.☽.| 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ༻❦✧

While you sit atop your bedroll trying to relax at camp, your eyes drift over toward Astarion’s tent. To your surprise, you catch beams of moonlight reflecting off of a shining surface. Intrigued, you get up from your seat and make your way over to him. As you approach, you slow your steps and carefully peer around his figure to see a beautiful, ornate silver mirror. Of course, there is no reflection within it aside from your own face.

“Looking for something?” the vampire spawn purrs.

Your eyebrows raise, and you tilt your head inquisitively as a smirk curves across your lips.

“How did you know I was here?” you ask.

“The only benefit to a mirror when you have my…condition. It doesn’t quite make up for the lack of reflection, mind you.”

You hum to yourself and nod. He turns to face you, dropping the mirror to his side. His eyebrows are knitted together, that signature anger decorating his handsome feline features.

“Do you miss it?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest. “Your own face?”

“Preening the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He scoffs. “Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face - not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have the chance to stop it.

“I don’t know…” he drops his gaze and his eyebrows furrow in deep thought. “I can’t remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I’ve lost.”

He throws the mirror onto the dirt beside him. It lands with a dulled clink as Astarion’s face floods with fury. You breathe a sigh and gulp. Then, you cautiously step forward, craning your neck and narrowing your eyes to focus on him. He angles his head, quirking an eyebrow.

“What?” he asks quietly.

“Just looking.”

“And what is it that you see, exactly, when you look at me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you formulate an answer. Suddenly, you can see all of him at once. Your artist’s soul drinks in each and every detail. You study his almond-shaped eyes, the delicate and noble curve of his nose, the grooves in his lips, his pointed ears and angular jawline. Your heartbeat pounds into your ears, and your chest tightens. You admire the way each part of him comes together to form that face, that cruel beauty. You can practically see the penciled lines on a scrap of parchment, the colors you would mix to get his skin tone right, the way you would paint him without the bite scars on his neck. The finished piece flashes before you. Your fingers twitch with anticipation.

“I see you,” you reply. “The creases when you laugh. The way your hair curls around your ears. That dangerous smile.”

His gaze softens, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He straightens, heaving a deep breath, and places his hands on his hips.

“Very good. Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

You smile and chuckle.

“You have nothing to worry about, Astarion. It’s a very good face.”

A full smirk breaks across his features, tugging one corner of his mouth upward. He eyes you mischievously, his gaze flicking up and down your figure, before he turns to pick up a book. You take that as your cue to leave and make your way back to your own tent

Though you try to settle down by reading a book you nicked off a drow corpse by the Ebonlake Grotto - The Great Furnace of Grymforge sounds incredibly important - you can’t keep yourself from looking back at your vampire companion. His words continue to echo in your head, over and over again.

I’ve never even seen this face, not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.

The painting of him that you had imagined earlier flickers through your mind once again. You raise your head and peer around to see that most of your other companions have gone to bed for the night. You figure you should probably get some sleep too...

Despite your exhaustion, you find yourself reaching for a scroll of unused parchment.

You secure the paper to your wooden easel and open the paint set you tote around in your pack. After making a quick trip to the river to fill a bowl with water, you fish out the brushes and pencils you’ve collected. Once prepped, you take a deep breath and begin to sketch the preliminary lines. As you fill in the finer details, you take care to be as accurate as possible. Every so often, you sneak a peek at Astarion to ensure you’re doing the elf justice and to check on small details, though you are able to do most from memory. You could never quite explain it, but his image appears so clearly in your mind, every detail almost perfectly preserved like a painting in and of itself. He’s settled into the ideal expression as he reads, his features ghosted with deep anger but balanced with a controlled calm.

By the time you’ve finished the sketch, the rest of your party has fallen asleep, Astarion included. He’d walked toward his bedroll encircling the bonfire an hour ago. And, though he tossed you an inquisitive glance, he said nothing. Within a short time, he’d fallen asleep alongside the others.

You take to the paints beside you. In an artist’s flurry, you work quickly but carefully, taking full advantage of every shred of inspiration that you have at the moment. You do your best to match his colors under the soft candle and moonlight. You fully intend to revisit the piece during the day with more favorable lighting.

A few hours later, you’ve all but finished. Until you realize that you’ve left something extremely important out. Though you have sketched in his dark, piercing eyes, you’ve neglected to color them. Your shoulders fall as your conversation from earlier replays in your mind.

Your eyes lock on the blood red swatch of paint immediately, but you wonder…

You look back at the canvas, recalling the image of his face once again. Closing your eyes, you allow your mind to fill in the gaps. You envision Astarion in Baldur’s Gate, with a carefree smile and fine clothes, as the sun shines graciously upon his face. A smile spreads across your lips, and you instinctively reach for a color from your paint set. Satisfied, you open your eyes and get to work.

You haven’t even realized that you’ve fallen asleep until you wake from a kick to your boot. You jerk, your head and neck immediately pounding.

“Well, good morning, sleeping beauty,” Astarion’s familiar voice croons into your ear.

As you shift to sit up, your eyes blink to adjust to the harsh sunlight of the dawn as it rises over the landscape. When you attempt to straighten your neck, a pulsing pain ricochets through you. You grunt and reach a hand up to massage the sore muscles. You’d fallen asleep sitting up in a chair, your head obviously flopped to one side for several hours. Your eyes rake over the camp, observing the fact that everyone else is still resting. By the time you’ve gained enough consciousness to process what’s happening, you realize that Astarion is staring directly at your piece. You gasp and lunge, twisting your body to cover it.

“Oh, that-that’s not...finished. I was planning to make some last minute changes to it this morning, em…” you stutter as your heart pulses at a million miles a minute. You’re suddenly extremely embarrassed by yourself and wondering if you might have taken things a step too far by spending your entire night painting your…friend. Astarion just raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, it looked awfully finished to me, darling.”

He gestures for you to move out of the way, but all you can muster is a shake of your head. He frowns before grabbing onto your bicep and pulling you to the side. Though your brain says to fight him, your heart wants, with everything in you, for him to see it. For him to like it. You drop your gaze in shame, picking at your fingernails. He stands on his back foot. His eyes roam over the piece, his face expressionless. You clear your throat.

“You mentioned last night that you hadn’t seen your face since…well, I thought maybe you’d like to. I know it’s probably not a very good likeness, so please don’t take offense to it. And I wasn’t quite sure what color to make your eyes, so I-”

“Yes,” he muses quietly, in a tone so silent it’s almost imperceptible. He reaches toward the painting, his fingers hovering over the eyes. His shoulders droop. “They were green.”

You inhale sharply. You’d painted them green.

“I’d forgotten until now. Until you…” He tears his gaze away from the painting to take you in. Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel frozen under his unwavering eyes. “Until you helped me to see myself.”

He maintains your stare for a few more moments. You couldn’t miss the way his eyes soften and turn glassy. Nor the almost pink tint that fades into his cheeks. Astarion gulps and considers the painting once more.

“Is this how you see me? Genuinely?”

You inspect the painting yourself now. Last night you had felt so critical of it, fretting over the colors not being exactly right or the lines not matching up as you want them to. You often feel that way about your art. But now, in the daylight, you find yourself falling a little bit in love with this piece.

You drop to your knees alongside your companion, gently reaching out to cup his cheek. He stiffens at your touch but as you scan his features, you feel him ease and…is he leaning into your palm? Your thumb absentmindedly brushes across his cheekbone. He avoids your eyes. With a shaky breath, you look to the painting and grin.

Your inspiration served you well. It’s a spitting image as far as you can tell. You’ve managed to include the wisps of curl that brush against his pointed ears, the faint lines alongside his nose and mouth. Most of all, you’ve captured the sparkle of joy, the light so dim it’s almost vanished, that gleams in his eyes. Even after all that he’s been through.

“Yes. Because this is how you are. To me.”

His head whips around to you. His hands find yours, sandwiching your fingers between his own. Despite his bloodless complexion, his touch is warm and gentle. You step closer to him without even really intending to. He allows a rare smile, a genuine one, to turn up his lips. Your heart skips a beat as he bends down and brings his lips to your cheek. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed as you drink in the sensation of his lips on you so sweetly. He pulls back, sliding his cheek onto yours.

“Thank you," he whispers into your ear.

As he draws back, a yawn from one of your companions shakes you back to reality. Astarion’s smile remains. His eyes sparkle just in the way you’ve painted them. He squeezes your fingers before releasing them. You clear your throat, willing your sweating palms to dry themselves. You carefully lift the painting and hand it to your vampire spawn companion.

“Here. Keep it. I was planning on giving it to you anyway,” you say.

“Well, since I was the most inspired muse for your delicious little painting, I will,” he teases, flashing a sinister smirk which shows off his sharpened fangs. You chuckle breathlessly and nod.

He begins to walk away but pauses and glances at you over his shoulder.

“Oh and, next time, if you need a model, just ask, darling. I’d be more than happy to pose for you any time. In any position.”

Astarion snickers viciously as you feel your eyes go wide and mouth pop open in surprise. As he struts away, you rub your palms on your heated cheeks. He’s such a tease and yet…perhaps you’d take him up on his offer.

tags: @anukulee

[gaypirate420]

Haircut //Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x gn! reader.

Summary: Jasper did a thing while he was in a mood.

Angst/Fluff. Jasper icon by @jasperhaleobsessed

The vampire steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. The water dripping down his yellow hair, his pale hand wipes the steam off the mirror above the sink.

Golden eyes stare at his reflection.

Paper white skin decorated with deep scars. His muscles tensed up. He leans over, his hands holding hard on the sink, cracking it slightly.

It hasn't been a great week.

No, it hasn't been a great month. Year. Decade(s).

Since Victoria and her wannabe army of newborn vampires showed up he's been spiraling each day.

Slowly, the glass have been a drops away from spilling.

The memories just flooded his mind everytime he closed his eyes.

They're always there, but they're more vivid this time, he doesn't like this, Jasper knows this cycle too well, he doesn't want to be part of it again.

He thought he was getting better.

Jasper's been pushing you away and he's an idiot for that because he needs you, he needs you so so so bad but Jasper just can't tell you he's struggling. And he doesn't know why that is. Maybe he feels ashamed for being so weak, so broken.

There's a reason why you and him have been together for almost fifty years. You just bring the best of him and make the pain go away. Always.

A smile creeps on his face but it goes away quickly, he sighs and looks at the mirror one more time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jasper? Sunshine, you in here?" You asked while stepping inside the Cullen's house. The ironey flavor of blood still in your mouth after a successful hunt.

"...yeah." He mumbled from upstairs there was a slight shake on his voice. No waiting for you at the door? No bouquet of flowers? No forehead kiss? No 'Darlin' I missed ya.'?

Something happened. Something bad.

You approached your shared bedroom opening the door slowly.

Your eyes try to process what their seeing.

Jasper was sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes unfocused starring at the locks of hair on the floor. His pale fingers holding a pair of scissors, shaking.

And of course his hair. Short. Cut at random lengths after a fit of raw emotion. Anger. Sadness. Desperation. That's what his aura is filled with.

"Sweetheart..." You called softly and closed the door behind you. The vampire doesn't react to your presence at all, he just looks straight ahead, deep in thought.

Jasper catches on the steps getting closer to him and a gentle hand tilt his chin up gently to make his eyes meet yours. His almost numb expression makes you want to cry. The golden color of his eyes holds no shine, they're dull and empty.

"Hey, sunshine." You whisper softly and cup his face, leaning on your touch and a small gasp leaving his lips, if he was human he'll be all tears right now.

"Oh—it's okay, sweetheart." You whisper reassuringly. The blonde wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close, burying his face on your chest, taking a deep breath and drowning on your comforting scent.

You stroke his now short hair.

"...sorry" He whimpers against your chest trying to find some peace with your touch.

"Why are you apologizing, cowboy?" You whisper softly and caress his face, he can't look at you right now, he feel so ashamed because you're seeing him like this.

"... because— I'm a mess." His voice breaks and he holds closer to you. You just stroke his hair and kiss his forehead.

"...and my hair is ugly now." He added, a bitter chuckle follows. You take the scissors from his shaking hands and brush his hair down.

"May I fix it?" You asked before cutting anything.

"Can you?" He asks hopeless as he closes his eyes, he feels defeated, tired, he just wants to sleep but he can't sleep because of his nature.

"Well... either way I think you'll look handsome bald." You try to lighten the mood and it surprisingly works because his frown turns into a smirk. He nods and allows you to fix his hair.

You lean down to kiss his lips, a tender, slow and gentle kiss. He holds the kiss for longer, the feeling of your lips against his are a great distraction from the memories that are haunting him.

Jasper closes his eyes as you work on his hair. He doesn't know if the silence is dreadful or comfortable.

"Do you want to talk about what happened? I'm very worried about you, don't think I don't notice how distant you've been." You whisper with a serious expression.

He shakes his head slowly, the idea of discussing his feelings and pain being something he is not ready to do just yet. Your touches help in distract him.

"...maybe later, darlin', I'm sorry." Jasper whispers as he keep my eyes closed, focusing on the sensation of your fingers through his hair to avoid a relapse of his previous train of thought. He takes a couple of deep breaths as the gentle movement of your fingers helps him calm down and have a clearer mindset.

"Done." You said softly and clean his sweater from the fallen hair. You take on his image, his new look.

"You look real pretty, Jazz." You smiled, Jasper returned the smile in a much weaker way. He doesn't check himself in the mirror, he trusts you and knows you did a much better work than he did.

"....thank you, sugar." He whispers, feeling a little tired from all this. He holds your hand and kisses your palm.

"Cuddles?" You whisper back, he nods and picks you up to throw you in the bed with him.

He nuzzles his face on your neck, holding you so close to him. He takes a deep deep breath and closes his eyes.

".... you're- stuck with me forever...I'm sorry. You deserve someone better. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He whispers against your skin.

"I'm happy to have you forever. I don't want anybody else." You whisper back and kiss the top of his head. He smiles weakly and hols you close, nuzzling to you like a needy kitten.

"...and I'm happy I got you too. I don't know who I'll be without you." Jasper closes his eyes and leaves gentle kisses on your neck.

"I love you so much." You whisper.

"I love you more." He answer with a gentle whisper.

"hmmm, I don't think so. I love you more than that." You speak teasingly, he chuckles softly and hugs you tightly.

"I love ya a hundred times that." He answers with a weak voice, like he's very sleepy.

"Well, I love you a thousand times that." You speak with a following giggle, Jasper chuckles and kisses your lips once more.

He's going to be okay. Here in your arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: heyyyy, here's an angsty fic because an idea came to my mind thinking about why did Jasper has such a radical haircut in between movies. And I was like "that's how you cut your hair after a breakdown." Y'know? So here's this, hope you like it, requests are open!

[chellestrash]

Please, Mr. Ghost Face

Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)

Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.

Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!

Word count: 7.2k

AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.

You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.

You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.

“Right, I think I'm ready!”

You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.

“So, what did you decide to go as?”

You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.

“Did you figure it out?”

Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.

“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”

Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.

Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.

The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.

“Oh, fuck.”

You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.

“Think it'll do?”

You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.

“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”

You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.

“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”

“Corner shop.”

He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.

The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.

Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.

“What?”

The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”

Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.

“Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”

You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.

“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.

“Mmmmm, fuck.”

He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.

“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”

Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.

Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.

Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.

A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.

He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.

His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.

“Oh, there he is.”

You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“You try that shit one more time-”

He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.

“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”

“Oh.”

You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.

“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.

You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.

With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”

Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.

“What?”

You ask once the phone call is over.

“You're the one who said it's not happening.”

***

You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.

“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”

Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.

“Just go.”

You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.

“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”

The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.”

***

This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.

You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.

You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.

With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.

It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.

He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.

He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.

“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”

She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.

“Are we showing our costumes off?”

Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.

“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”

“Oh, fun!”

Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.

“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”

***

Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.

“Hi.”

You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.

“You gotta put the mask on.”

“Mind your business, yeah?”

He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.

“Frankie-“

You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.

“Leave it.”

He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.

There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.

“Took you long enough.”

You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.

“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.

“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”

“Stop.”

His voice harsh with the warning.

“Why?”

You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.

“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”

Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.

“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.

“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”

You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah?”

You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.

“Make me.”

The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.

There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.

“F-”

He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.

“That's it.”

Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.

Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.

You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.

There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.

“Keep it on.”

You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.

“Jesus fucking-”

Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.

“Seriously, this shit again?”

You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.

“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”

You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.

Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.

“Alright.”

He slowly pulls the mask back on.

“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”

Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.

“Your fucking call.”

His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.

The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.

His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.

There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”

He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.

You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.

“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.

“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"

Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”

Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.

Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.

There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.

“That shit really gets you that bad?”

One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.

You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.

“Oh, you've got no idea.”

You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.

“Think I got some.”

He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.

“You get off on these things, huh?”

He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.

“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”

He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.

You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.

“Yeah, you got me.”

You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.

“You got me but-”

“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”

He thinks he has you now.

“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."

The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.

“You know what would help?”

You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.

“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”

His grip on you tightens with your words.

“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”

It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.

“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”

You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.

“This what you fucking want?”

He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,

“You're fucking sick, you know that?”

He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.

“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”

He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.

“God d-“

He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.

Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.

You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.

“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”

You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.

“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”

He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.

Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.

“Fuck.”

You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.

You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.

“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”

Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.

“The knife got you this close?”

You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.

With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.

“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”

And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”

He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.

“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”

Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.

“Fuuuuuuuck-“

He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.

Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.

You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.

You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Shit.”

You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.

“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”

You tease and he follows up with a scoff.

“Yeah okay, c'mere.”

He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.

“Attagirl.”

He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.

“See? You can be nice sometimes.”

He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.

The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.

You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.

You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.

“Frank.”

You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.

“Mhhh.”

He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.

“Frank-”

Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.

He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.

“Shit, Frankie...”

You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.

You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.

You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You okay?”

He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.

“Fair.”

He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.

Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.

“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”

You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.

“I don’t wanna think about that.”

You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.

“Yeah I bet.”

He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.

He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.

“Can you walk?”

He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.

“Shut up.”

You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.

“Can you walk?”

He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out.”

He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah.”

You nod.

“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”

You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.

“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”

His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”

You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”

[silassinclair]

Like Looking into a Mirror

(PolyLostBoys x Fem!ArtistReader)

Summary: Being a vampire has it's ups and downs. But one of the biggest downs was that you couldn't see yourself. Whether it be in photographs or reflections. This means that neither of the boys have seen what they themselves look like since they were turned. So when a shy little artist introduces herself to the boys with a painting of all of them they realize they not only know what they look like but also have found their mate.

Santa Carla is a city of opportunity. A place flourishing with job opportunity and people buzzling about everywhere. But for yourself, a struggling artist, it was the opposite. Running away from home was supposed to be your fresh start, a way to get away from it all and live your life to the fullest. To paint to your heart's desire. But it was nothing like that.

There were no places for you to work and use your artistry to the fullest. The only place you found where you could work was the library. Reading itself was an art but not exactly your forte, but it was close enough and payed decently.

It was 8 at night. The sun set and the amusement park alive with people. By the beach wall you sat with a miniature canvas, paints, and brushes. Every night you'd come to the boardwalk and paint it's colorful passerby's. Unlike your old small town people here dressed unique. So many colors and style subcultures.

Scanning the crowd you hunted for your new inspiration. Person or people to replicate onto your canvas. Your direction was pulled to the sounds of purring engines. To your left under a streetlamp by the very wall you were sitting on, four men looking your age parked their bikes. Their fashion stood out amongst anyone you have ever seen on the boardwalk.

A bleached platinum blonde. His mullet stood sharp, almost as sharp as his eyes. A tall brunet with no shirt under his long coat. His long hair rested on his back. A natural blonde with wild hair and a just as wild personality. And finally the short one with long blonde curls and a face that could combat a cherub's.

Everything about them was perfect. You studied them for minutes and looked away when you felt their curious gazes turn to you. Having all their features down to memory you painted away. You painted all of them standing together standing in their own way. Straight and confident, collected and cool, laid back, goofy.

As you painted each of the men's features you smiled to yourself. This may have been one of your best works yet. When you finished the piece in an hour or two you would definitely give it to them as a gift. Usually you would give the paintings you made of people to them to see their reactions. Every time they were always very grateful and happy, seeing them smile is the reason why art is your passion.

You really hope they would appreciate it though, since they are your temporary muse of inspiration and these four seem pretty intimidating.

.

.

"Yeah man I'm telling you she kept looking at us. But when I would look at her she'd look away and start writing shit on her canvas or whatever." Paul said while nudging David. He didn't care when his friend told him that the girl to their right kept sneaking glances at them.

Girls stare at him and his vampiric brothers all the time. What can he say? He knows him and his brothers are hotter than hell so who wouldn't stare?

"What Paul, you wanna talk to her or something? Just go talk to the chick like what you always do." David said with an eyeroll and a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

Paul bashfully looked down and scratched his neck. "Dude I dunno.. she doesn't seem too interested. Probably looking at us because we dress weird?"

Now David was confused. Was his flirt machine of a brother.. shy? A sly grin curled onto the platinum blondes lips. He looked to Dwayne and Marko and those two seemed to catch on quick about Paul's little crush.

Putting his arm around his blonde brother David said, "Do you perhaps like this girl Pauly?"

Paul growled and shoved him off making Marko and Dwayne holler in laughter.

"Dude you're fucking whipped! Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Marko laughed and held his chest. Paul hit him upside the head with his palm.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Dwayne's laughing reduced to small chuckles. He looked over at the girl who Paul seemed so flustered over. She was wearing a long frilly black skirt and a sage green blouse. Her hair styled uniquely and anklets and bracelets adorned their respected limbs.

"Hm.." Dwayne hummed, "I get what you mean Paul."

Paul shot his taller brother a glare. "Yeah. Should have at least checked her out before makin' fun o' me."

Marko looked over to see what all the fuss was over. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. And she was painting too, something he adored doing.

Sensing someone looking at her Y/n looked up and four pairs of eyes were on her. The eyes of the subjects she was painting at the moment. Feeling like she had been caught doing something wrong, she looked back down at her canvas in a flash and finished up the final finishing touches.

"She was totally checking us out." Paul said smirking, well his insecurity flew out the window.

"Dude she's cute as hell man. How'd we not see her around before? And why didn't you tell us Pauly!" Marko grabbed his terror twin by the shoulders and shook him back and forth.

David snapped his fingers and the two instantly stopped with their rough housing. "We're all going to approach her. Perhaps we will have a meal tonight boys, or more."

Deadly smiles grew on the pack's faces. Time to do what they knew best. Lure and capture.

.

.

You stood up when you finally finished the painting. The four of them painted in their signature clothing. All standing together. Two of them smiling and two not. Honestly, you were scared to give this painting to them. What if they didn't like it? Or what if they thought you were some kind of weird stalker?

Walking to the group of the four bikers they all seemed to perk up at your sudden presence.

"What a surprise, we were just about to walk over to you babydoll." The curly haired one said. Your grip on the canvas tightened. Seeming to notice the tallest and only brunet of the group asked,

"What's that you got there sweetheart?"

Ignoring the soaring feeling in your stomach you avoided eye contact with the group and quietly muttered your explanation, "U-Uhm I'm an artist and stuff... It's a hobby and stuff and I paint people on the board walk all the time. And when I saw a-all you four I couldn't help but notice how uniquely dressed you all are. So I painted all of you!"

Looking up at the group finally with a crooked smile on your face you showed them your work and flipped your canvas around revealing your work.

All four of them brought their faces close to the canvas, the two wild blondes started to push and shove and what seemed like the leader of the group punched both of their arms.

"You really did this?" The platinum blonde said. He looked into your eyes, a mixed emotion behind his. His gloved finger pointed at himself painted realistically.

"That's me?"

You nodded and handed the painting to him which he gently accepted.

"Of course that's you silly. I painted the four of y-you. Hope you all like it!"

The four boys looked up at you gratefully. It was sudden but the brunette pulled you into a hug. He didn't seem like the touchy type and it surprised you with his sudden action.

"Thank you sweetheart. My brothers and I appreciate this... a lot. A lot more than you may think." He released you from his chilling yet warm embrace.

"No need to thank me.."

"Dwayne."

"Dwayne, I do this to make people like you and your brother happy. It's what I love about art ya'know?"

He smiled and introduced each of his brothers. David, Paul, and Marko.

"I am truly grateful for this kitten. Say, you wanna ride with us? You know where Hudson's Bluff is right?"

Nodding you let him continue.

"Wanna hang out with us four for the night? Promise we won't let you be bored for even a minute." His black gloved hand twirled a lock of your h/c hair around his finger.

Shyly moving away you muster up the courage to agree and go with him. He asked who you wanted to ride with and Paul seemed to be the most eager to get you to ride with him, so you gave in and got on the back of his bike.

"Hold on doll!" He revved his engine while his brother did the same. Hooting and hollering they sped down the sandy beach taking you to their cave.

"This is just the beginning!" Paul yelled over the sound of the engines. Not understanding him well you tightened your embrace around his torso and leaned in closer.

"You're gonna love us I promise!" Now that one you heard.

this was lowkey dogpiss but my head hurts so oopsie daisy

[angel-of-the-moons]

Mr and Mrs Knight

Steven Grant (Marc Spector + Jake Lockley) x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, body dysmorphia, smut, suit kink, glove kink, fingering, PiV sex, creampie, squirting, misuse of The Suit™ (and truncheons), cosplay, established relationship, fluff

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I am unashamed to admit that suits are fucking hot and the shit they do to me is what I imagine straight men feel when they see a VS model in lingerie. And Steven is hot. So is Marc. And Jake and Oscar in general you get the rest. Imagine the Mrs Knight suit looks something like this. (Also featuring the headcanons by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for Jake's craftiness!)

Taglist: @mundivagantsoul @belle-oftheball34 @steven-grants-world @denile-xo @whatevenisagrapefruit @hagridnmegamind @sapphire-and-ruby

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It had been a banger of a night. A fun Halloween bash at the museum, amazing costumes, great food. Donna even seemed to be in a decent mood. But of course that woman could have been faking it.

You and Steven decided to go with matching costumes. In a gross abuse of Steven, Marc, and Jake's status as Moon Knight, you'd convinced him to use his "Mr Knight" suit as his costume.

Jake helped you make yours to match. Finding the majority was easy enough at thrift stores (despite Marc's insistence that you should buy a new one), the mask was what was the pain.

That's where Jake's expertise came in. Sure his main skill was in knitting, but that didn't mean the man wasn't nuanced in other ways to make clothes. You couldn't count how many times Jake would stitch up the seams of your favorite jacket that you just refused to throw away, or how many times he'd hit you with that smug smile when you blubbered about how awesome he was for giving extra life into your jacket so you could wear it juuuust a bit longer.

Your mask turned out to be almost a perfect replica of his, complete with glowing lenses to match Steven.

You were nervous when you got dressed, looking in your floor-length mirror at your reflection.

Your hair was pinned back neatly to allow you to pull the mask on or off (because unlike Steven's, which was magically suited--pun intended--to be comfortable) without much problem, and you would still appear "flawless" as Steven put it.

But right now, you were having second thoughts. You weren't sure you liked how the skirt fit you. Or the blazer.

The waistband of the skirt squeezed your waist and the rolls of your tummy, the creases in the fabric seemingly emphasizing every imperfection you saw in yourself.

Your transparent white stockings were not helpful either, the bands squished the fat of your thighs in a way that made them look like muffins, even moreso than your tummy. They kept rolling down so much you had to buy garters to wear beneath your skirt just so they'd stay up...

You frowned at your reflection as the skirt rode up your legs, showing off the cute lace trim of the stockings and your squishy thighs; honestly if you weren't careful, or you bent over the skirt would bare your ass to the whole party.

You were tempted to go and grab that last minute shitty vampire costume you had stashed away, when Steven walked in, already dressed immaculately in that gorgeous white suit of his.

He adjusted the tie, not looking at you as he does so.

"Hey, luv, I'm fairly ready. I can help you with your makeup now, if..." His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth feels suddenly very dry at the sight of you all dressed up.

His tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip, moistening it as he clears his throat.

"You look good."

"Oh.... Thanks." You mumble shyly, trying to pull the edges of the blazer down to cover the rolls poking out of your skirt a bit more.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, beautiful?" He said softly, moving up to you.

"I... I look like a marshmallow." You sigh hesitantly, your tone full of self-deprecation.

"Hey, now." Steven smiled sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist as you tucked your face into his lapel.

"You're the most gorgeous marshmallow on the planet if that's the case." He told you, kissing the top of your head.

He felt something press down on him, and he looked up at the mirror, getting a full view of your back, but he saw Marc's face staring back at him with a cringed expression.

(Dude, that was the shittiest compliment ever. What woman wants to hear her being compared to a marshmallow??) He hissed.

Steven was about to retort, before you started bubbling out on laughter at how silly his compliment was.

"That was so corny." You snicker.

Steven gave a smug smirk at Marc before looking down at you with a soft, lovesick smile.

"Yeah, well, you love my sense of humor, eh?" He winked.

"Yeah... I guess I do." You smile back.

"Now, then! Your makeup. Let's sit you down so I can work on it for you!"

Whenever you had your doubts about your appearance, Steven, Marc, or Jake would pipe in and alleviate your worries. Sometimes all three at once, though rapid switching would often cause problems for them (like migraines).

You kept your eyes closed as Steven carefully applied your highlighter to your cheekbones, the brush tickling your skin, his shaky breaths ghosting over your face.

He would mumble some curses when he messed up, but would correct his mistake.

When you had asked him where on earth he learned to contour and highlight he shyly admitted he watched half a dozen tutorials on YouTube to get it perfect for you.

You felt the coldness of the liquid eyeliner as he painted on the wings with the white liner, the silver and gold glitter further adding to your look.

"'Kay luv, open your eyes so I can apply your mascara." He murmured, looking down in your makeup kit for the said cosmetic.

Once he did, he pulled out the black tube and made sure there was no excess before he carefully combed the white creamy substance on your eyelashes, lightening them up to enhance the face he'd helped apply for you.

Once he was finished with both eyes, he leaned back and allowed you to blink, smiling that puppy dog smile of his in satisfaction at his handiwork before placing the mascara tube back in the kit.

He lifted his hand and shook the bottle of setting spray so you wouldn't accidentally sweat it off or wipe it off with something during the night (or god forbid it rub off on the inside of your mask).

"Close em again for me."

You couldn't help but smile at his level of gentleness and politeness.

You restrained from physically recoiling as the cold setting spray hit your skin and quickly dried.

"Now, do you want to put on lipstick now or when we get to the party?" He asked as he watched your sickeningly gorgeous lashes flutter open. All the white, silver, and hints of gold on your face enhanced your eyes and their color, the very depths of them stealing his breath away.

"We can do it now. I have liquid matte and regular lipstick." You reply, smiling once again.

"Which would you prefer?" Steven asked you.

"Whichever you think would look best."

He sucked in a breath that his lungs were suddenly starving for, and grabbed the liquid tube.

His hand gently cupped your chin as he brushed the satiny lipstick onto your lips, carefully lining them so it wasn't too much. He'd even dipped his finger in your cosmetic glitter and applied a very gentle amount.

"Gorgeous." He breathed.

"Aww..." You giggle, thankful for the glitter and makeup that hid your blush at his praise.

"Now then... Let's go, shall we?" He said, taking your hand to help you stand and slip in your white heels.

As the two of you left, Steven could hear Jake in the back of their headspace.

(Que hermosa... Be careful, hermanito. If she bends over, I just might take over for the rest of the night and have that ass for myself.)

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Mr and Mrs Knight. That's what you two went as for the party. You two even won the prize for best couples costume!

Sure it was just a gift card to some restaurant, but it was exhilarating to hear how people adored your matching outfits.

And you couldn't help but notice all night that Steven simply couldn't keep his hands off of you.

He would get like that sometimes; working himself up like that, but trying to be subtle. You knew it was only a matter of time before an awkward boner would be the cause for the two of you to leave early, so you excused yourself to the restroom under an excuse to check and see if your makeup needed retouching or if you could go the rest of the night without your mask.

But you got a little nervous when two women went into the lavatory after you, and you felt trapped within your stall. You simply couldn't stand the glances from other women you were getting all night. You were afraid these two women who were clucking at each other like hens were amongst the ones judging you.

And your fears were confirmed.

"I can't believe that such a handsome guy would pick a blimp to be his girlfriend." One of them scoffed as she applied a fresh layer of brick red lipstick. As if she didn't have enough on already.

You felt your heart sink further inside of you as the other joined in.

"I know, right? It's gotta be her tits, only thing I can imagine. Maybe her ass, too." The other laughed as she touched up the false blood on the corners of her mouth.

"Either that or she gives good enough head that he can overlook the fact that if she ever got on top she could crush him." The first one snickered.

Your hands knotted in the mask you held in your hands, threatening to tear the stitches Jake so lovingly sewed in for you to wear tonight. You bit the inside of your cheek harshly as the two gossiped further.

"Ugh, and the sad thing is, he's cute, for a bookworm who won't shut up." The second sighed.

"Ugh, I know... I can look past the blabbering if I can see what he's packing."

"Right? I wonder if he's as good with his mouth as he is with his stupid history facts." The first giggled.

You gritted your teeth. You couldn't take much more, you knew that. Insulting you, you could take and bottle up to deal with later, probably in the heat and privacy of your shower.

But talking about Steven like he's some kind of... sex toy? No. Hell no. If you were anything, you were insanely protective over your boys. Even bordering on possessive at times (of course the same was true for the boys about you).

You were done.

You slammed the stall door open and sort of enjoyed how startled they seemed when they saw you, their jaws dropping when it hit them that you heard everything.

You hurriedly wash your hands and slip your gloves back on, gripping your mask in your hand tight as you spare them a backwards glance before leaving the lavatory to find Steven.

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted to go home...

When you found him, his brows knitted upwards in concern at how tight-lipped and tense you were when you gripped his sleeve tight.

"Ey luv, what's wrong?" He murmured to you, leading you away from the crowd.

"I... I just want to go home." You say, the words those women said about your body weighing down on you, and the things they said about Steven burning hot in your gut. You weren't sure what to feel with this cocktail of emotions.

"Hey hey, okay we can leave." He says, kissing you on the forehead.

"Let's go."

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The walk back to your flat was... Difficult. You could barely hold yourself together, suddenly hyper-aware of every roll and stretch mark on your body, even the slight double chin you had when you moved your head a certain way.

It wasn't until you were in the lift of your building that you finally broke down, your reflection staring back at you in the walls of the tiny space, crushing down on you with every imperfection you saw.

You couldn't keep in the bubbling sobs, or the fat tears that rolled down your cheeks and ruined the makeup Steven worked so hard to put on you.

He cradled you against him and cooed to you, saying sweet nothings and whispering nothing but praise for your looks, rubbing your back and kissing your hair.

In the various angles of the reflections, and the oppressive feeling weighing down on Steven... He could see and feel Marc and Jake.

Both looked pissed. Marc almost looked violent.

(If anybody talks like that about our muñeca again...) Jake trailed off.

(Oh trust me, I'll do the honors.) Marc growled.

The walk back into your flat felt horrid. You didn't just cry, you ugly-cried. You ruined your makeup, your hair fell out of the pins, and your skirt rode up more with every rushed step you took to hurry up and get in to get into some baggy clothes that didn't showcase your body.

You didn't feel cute or sexy anymore, you felt... ugly.

And Steven didn't like that one bit. Marc and Jake retreated, knowing that their anger at your injured self-opinion wouldn't help. This kind of situation was a Steven situation. He knew best how to be the sweetest person on the planet with you.

But right now he wasn't feeling particularly sweet. Sure, you were upset. But he couldn't help but get a good look at you as you walked ahead of him, the skirt riding up so much that he could just barely see the black and blue panties you wore beneath, your cheeks peeking out from the edges of the fabric, the garter straps clinging desperately to your stockings in effort to keep them up your gloriously plush thighs to keep them up.

He felt hot beneath the collar, his trousers getting uncomfortably tight as blood flowed straight to his cock.

The moment the door closed behind you, your hands, trembling and rushed, went to unbutton the blazer to get it off of you quicker, sniffles and tiny sobs sneaking out of you in the process.

However, your actions were halted when Steven placed his hands gently on your shoulders from behind, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your blazer, trying to soothe you.

"Love. You're gorgeous. Beautiful." He breathed, resting his forehead against the back of your head, inhaling the lingering scent of your shampoo.

"Steven, I'm... I'm not." You sniffle. "I'm fat, I can barely squeeze into a pair of jeans, I can't even shop at normal clothing stores for women. I get looks when I wear anything tight, and--and the things I hear people say about me--"

Your voice is broken off when you hiccup, feeling another sobbing fit try to get out of you.

"You don't understand what I'm sayin', luv." Steven smiled into your hair, ever patient.

"You're the prettiest girl in the world to us. You don't need a flat belly, or toned thighs to be pretty. You're funny, you're warm, and you're soft."

You made a shocked squeak when his hands snake around you, his gloved hands gripping at your belly and squeezing the plushness there through your clothes.

Your denial died in your throat when Steven rolled his hips into you, his hard cock throbbing as he rutted into the curve of your ass.

"You wouldn't be able to get to me like this if I didn't find you the most gorgeous woman on the planet. You wouldn't get Jake to say the filthy things he tells you in bed. You wouldn't have Marc snuggling you and resting his head in your lap or on your belly..."

His breathing got heavier as he rocked his hips into you further, a bitten-back whimper dying as he swallowed hard.

"S-Steven--"

"You've been driving me insane all night. This skirt looks so good on you." He says hotly in your ear, his fingers rolling up the hem of your skirt to reveal your panties and garters, making you gasp again.

"Those stockings huggin' you so tight. Been thinking about how badly I want to have my head between your legs, tonight." He growled.

Before you could say anything else, his gloved hand went up to your mouth and he tapped your lips, begging for entrance. Powerless to resist him, you let him press his fingers into your mouth, your tongue wetting them effectively before he pulled them away, and slipped down into your panties

He dragged one of his fingers up your puffy lips, parting your folds before he turned his attention onto your clit.

"S-S-Steven--" You whimper when he starts to circle the little nub.

"Hush, now. Let me show you, eh?" Steven said, biting at your earlobe softly.

You couldn't fight it, you couldn't fight the warm nectar that gushed out from you at his words and affirmations. All your mind could focus on was how wonderfully his fingers toyed with your cunt, deftly rolling, pushing, and pinching your clit in every way he knew that brought you the best pleasure, the fastest.

Your mind practically went blank when he curled two fingers into your weeping hole, the leather around his digits making them thicker than they normally would be, and providing a luxurious texture to your clit as he massaged you with his palm. His mouth trailed down your neck, breath hot on your skin as he bit down and sucked.

It wasn't like when Jake did this to you, no. Every one of them had different methods, different touches...

And Steven was particularly good at balancing out the sweet and the hard, paying more attention to your own pleasure than his. Sometimes, he would get so lost in pleasuring you he'd cum in his pants without even being touched.

This time was no different... in no time at all, he had you cumming so hard you almost fell to the floor, your slick gushing out and soaking the glove.

He smiled sweetly into the skin of your neck as he eased you forward, so you could press your palms on one of his desks, thighs quivering as you recollected yourself.

You barely saw through your haze clearly enough to catch Steven licking his glove clean through the reflection in the mirror on the desktop, his eyes closing in satisfaction at your savory taste.

You half expected him to drop to his knees and eat you out, next, but he doesn't. He just stands there for a moment, staring at you with a lidded and loving gaze, curls falling forward over his forehead as they always do.

That's when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head, and you pinch your legs together, and try to wiggle away from his gaze, to retreat to the safety of the bathroom and escape from his heated staring.

But in a flash, Steven is on you again, his hands gripping at your hips and that's when you feel the hot, heavy weight of his leaking cock slap against the barely clothed flesh of your ass as he rolls your skirt up completely over your hips.

"Steven!" You squeak.

"Hey, now... 'M not done showing you yet." His voice croaks out, heavy and barely coherent as the silk fabric of your panties brushes the head of his dick.

He groans, giving one more roll of his hips against your ass, smearing more precum on the fabric and skin, there; before he gripped the base, lining his cock up to your weeping hole.

"Fuck, luv. So soft. So wet f'me." He said, voice strained from barely contained arousal.

You squirmed, still feeling inadequate despite Steven's words and assurances.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly. But right now you just felt so... so...

Your thoughts cut themselves off when he reached behind him, and from beneath his coat pulled out one of his engraved truncheons.

Placing it in front of you and gripping it with his other hand, pulling you tight against him as he thrust sharply into you, sheathing himself in one whole go, the tip of his cock slamming upwards so suddenly you felt his tip smush your cervix before he eased back.

"B-baby--" You whine, despite yourself.

"Not runnin' away, luv." Steven grunted into your hair as he thrust into you, his hands gripping tightly on the truncheon, using the bar to squeeze against your belly and hold you against him while he fucked you raw.

You couldn't fight the snapping of his hips or his raw need for you, right now. You couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers he wrenched out of you with each punctuation of his hips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck--" You hear him wheeze as his thrusts get more and more desperate.

There is a metallic clang as he tosses the truncheon to the floor in favor of gripping your thigh and lifting your leg so your knee was on the desktop.

You let Steven guide you so you're practically laying face down on the desk, his cock still spearing you open, pussy fluttering around him at the change in position.

You were taken by surprise when he grips your wrists next, ripping off his tie before slipping it over your hands, before tying them together at the curve of your back. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but tight enough you couldn't squirm free.

He hesitated a moment. As nice as it would be to watch the soft flesh of your ass bounce and ripple while he fucked you... He didn't want to do it like this.

So, without further hesitation on his part, he gripped you, lifting you off your feet and rolling you so you were laying with your upper half on the desktop, pulling your legs up so your calves rested on his shoulders, all without dislodging from the warm tightness of your cunt.

You whimpered as he does this, and try to wriggle from his tie so you could cover your face, your running makeup and smeared lipstick.

Your pitiful, chubby face--

"Hey, hey..." His voice is soft and shaky as he leans in, cupping your cheek with one hand as your thighs squish against the both of you.

He caresses your soft cheek with a thumb and he smiles.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart. You're gorgeous and I want to see you."

"Steven, I..." You whimper as your pussy clenches around his shaft, making it twitch inside of your tight, gummy walls.

His eyes rolled back with a groan.

"I'm not gonna stop until you see what I see." He grunts, dragging his cock out slowly until only the tip remains inside of you, the rest of your cunt squeezing desperately around nothing.

You're barely given a moment of respite before he snaps his hips into yours again, fucking you relentlessly and hitting your sweet spot over and over withe every arch of his hips.

Some of Marc's precision was bleeding into him as he aimed the tip of his cock like a weapon against your g-spot, pounding into you hard and fast, stoking the fire in your belly so hotly that you felt the embers scatter throughout your veins, every nerve in your body aflame in pleasure.

His left hand kneads the soft skin of your thigh, squishing and rolling the plush flesh beneath his gloved fingers before he slips his other hand between you, circling your clit mercilessly, making you shriek with every sharp thrust of his hips.

He loved how your body jiggled and bounced with every thrust; how your tits were bouncing so hard that they were spilling out of the top of your bra cups, your blazer falling completely open around you, now.

Despite still being fully clothed, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. Fresh tears burned in your eyes as he crammed his cock into you over and over again, his fingers working your second orgasm out of you faster and faster with every swipe of his fingers.

"It's okay, luv." Steven moaned, turning his head to plant a kiss on the inside of your knee, the leg he was squishing in his fingers.

"Cum for me, yeah? Show me how pretty you are." He pants, his thumb pressing hard into your clit.

That was all it took, the friction of his fingers, the thrusts of his hips, and each jab of his cock, plus his words? You were on cloud nine, brain fried and all sense gone as drool dribbled down your chin and you cum with a choked cry, babbling out his name over and over as your body clamps down, gushing around his cock, spraying out and soaking his hand and the front of his suit.

Steven, poor, loveable, goofy Steven could never hold out too long after you came, the squeezing and milking of your pussy was simply too much for him to bear.

Your eyes rolled back and you felt yourself spasm in an aftershock as you felt the hot ropes of his cum painting your walls a milky white, flooding your hungry cunt with everything he had to give you.

He drops your leg, wrapping them around his waist as he leans in and kisses you roughly, his tongue pushing past your lips to twine with yours and steal your recovered breaths.

"See... You're fucking beautiful. Wouldn't do this to us otherwise." He mumbles against your lips.

"Oh... God." You whimper.

Your mind ticks back into sanity and you realize the two of you are still clothed. Your outfit was of course mussed, but Steven was almost completely immaculate. The only thing he was missing of his suit was his tie, and the only sign of mess was the wet stain on his front, and his cock still sheathed inside of you.

"Hmm." He hummed softly, looking down at you with the softest gaze he could fix on you.

Steven gave you a sweet kiss to your forehead before he moved his mouth to the shell of your ear.

"And if you still don't believe me... Jake and Marc want to have a word with you."

[chuuyrr]

ALL I THINK ABOUT IS KARMA — DAZAI OSAMU

=͟͟͞♡ CW(s): gn! reader, spoilers for bungo stray dogs, reader is an ability user that is capable of inducing karma. short fic.

=͟͟͞♡ SYNOPSIS: in which crime and punishment is not a match for karma.

=͟͟͞♡ NOW PLAYING: look what you made me do by taylor swift and gods by new jeans

BYR ! this was written as a second part of this fic right here with the season 5 finale plot but it can be read alone.

in the helicopter, the vampirism virus coursing through your veins reached its peak. dazai's intricate plan had unfolded, but little did he know about the latent power within you.

as fyodor smirks, reveling in his perceived victory, a surge of karma emanated from your core.

crimson energy clashed with the vampiric curse, creating a chaotic dance of dark and light within you. fyodor's control wavered as your newfound ability fought against the insidious virus, and you seized the opportunity to break free.

with newfound strength, you wrestled control from fyodor's grasp, and his eyes widened in disbelief as the tides turned upon him. in a swift motion, you drew a silver dagger hidden beneath your coat, its blade reflecting the eerie glow of the vampire-infested surroundings.

as the helicopter's propeller rattled in the night sky, you lunged at fyodor, your swift yet harsh movements fueled by a mix of vengeance and the unyielding force of karma. the blade found its mark, sinking into fyodor's side, impaling him into his seat.

his sly grin turned to a grimace of pain.

a clash between the demon and the enduring will of a human refusing to succumb. fyodor's deep purple eyes saw how your ability to manipulate karma tipped the scales in your favor. the crimson energy emanating from you intensified, enveloping both of us in a swirling maelstrom.

blood seeped from his lips as he coughed in pain after being stabbed by his own and supposedly mind-controlled driver, and his blood turned cold as he looks up to see the red in your eyes flicker back into a [color] with your fangs shrinking back to its normal size.

fyodor wasn't one for surprises since he usually has everything deduced and planned accordingly, but this once, you have made that possible for him.

how could he let you slip out of his control just like the gravity manipulator too? fyodor was certain you had been infected with the virus and was not faking, especially with the way your eyes flickered back then.

"right on time, [name]!" a smile tugs on dazai's lips as he claps his hands, though the gravity manipulator was quite tense, even if everything was just exact and accordingly to the plan.

each piece across the hoard moved with calculated precision, whispering secrets of a plot that only you and dazai could decipher, leaving fyodor oblivious to the unfolding intrigue.

"how?" fyodor coughs, holding a bitter smile that was heavy with betrayal and suspicion.

the ivory and ebony chess pieces mirrored the clash between light and darkness in the intricate game. dazai, with his characteristic smirk, slid his bishop forward, symbolizing a clandestine maneuver on your part with responding with a cunning knight's leap.

"easy, i purposely got myself bitten and infected to get close to you," you met his gaze with a determined glint across your eyes, "you think chuuya was the only one?"

pieces danced across the board, and the climax of our plan unfolded in a daring sacrifice—a queen's gambit that left fyodor's defenses vulnerable.

dazai, standing nearby, couldn't resist a smirk, "to put it simply," he interjected, stepping forward with a sly confidence, "​[name]'s ability is capable of inducing karma. even if they got infected, the ability within them will continue to act on."

fyodor's gaze shifted to dazai, suspicion etched across his face, "what do you mean?" he demands.

dazai's smile widened as he relished the unfolding revelation, "you might have gotten control of [name], but you can't control karma," he explains with a hint of amusement.

"it's an ability that is still dependent on the course of action of [name]'s target."

as the truth sank in, fyodor's composure faltered. the realization that his meticulous plans had a flaw, a flaw rooted in the unpredictable nature of karma, left him momentarily speechless.

"once you play god, they're gonna crumble one by one," you remark, your voice echoing with a conviction that resonated through the chaos surrounding all of you, and the words hung in the air like an irreversible verdict, sealing fyodor's fate.

"but consider this, fyodor," you continue, the whirring of the helicopter blades adding a rhythmic cadence to my words as you begin to take the helicopter to the heavens.

"in your pursuit of power, you played the role of a god, all according to your whims," you say, your voice carrying a solemn weight with karma speaking for itself through you, "but just as hubris led to the fall in tales of old, karma now unravels the threads of your false godhood."

the helicopter's descent mirrored the descent into the inevitable consequences of fyodor's actions, "attempting to control others as if they were mere pawns in your game? tch, some god you are."

you shake your head however with a chuckle, carrying the smile of the true devil, "even if crime and punishment are close friends as you say, karma, divine retribution, or the scales of justice, all point to the same truth in the end: actions have consequences, and those who attempt to manipulate the threads of destiny will find themselves entangled in a web of their own making. this is your kingdom come."

with a final, knowing gaze, you leap from the plummeting helicopter, embracing the uncertainty below. the crash, a symphony of destruction, unfolded.

"chuuya!" dazai yells as soon as he sees your figure across the smoke in the skies.

"working me like a damn dog, bastard. i got them!" chuuya hisses at the other first before he emerges from the ground, catching you with a grace that defied the chaos and gravity.

you were then brought to dazai's embrace, and you stood with him, amidst the flames of the crashed helicopter illuminating the night, a symbolic end to fyodor's ill-fated attempts to play god—an end brought about by the intertwining forces of the karma within you.

dazai, with sincerity in his eyes, pulls you into a tender embrace, his lips meeting your forehead in a gentle kiss, and as he rests his forehead against mine, he whispers, "you did it, love."

with a soft exhale, you whisper back, relieved and grateful, "we did it. all of us. it's finally over."

in that intimate moment, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders. the chaos, the vampirism virus, fyodor's manipulation—all of it seemed to fade into the background. dazai's acknowledgment held a profound significance, a recognition of the strength within you, warming your cheeks as a smile tugs on your lips.

"tch, get a goddamn room you idiots!" chuuya interjects, making his presence known to you and dazai again after you two seemingly forget.

karma is a cat allows its user to induce karma, which can be a blessing or a curse that may or may not include the bending of reality, but it is highly dependent on the target's course of action and the sincerity of the heart around the user.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey there! Do you mind writing a snippet about a captured hero in a I-have-you-now-my-pretty situation by a dominating seductive villain? And can you make it very dark please? Thank you so much and I absolutely love your writing!

"There now, isn't this much better?" the villain murmured, stroking their fingers through the hero's damp hair. "You're so pretty beneath all the grime and the blood."

"I prefer the grime and the blood."

"I might also prefer you nice and quiet. Consider that."

"Oh," the hero's eyes darkened, "no doubt. What's more attractive than your prey being forced docile, unable to fight back?"

The villain raised a brow, in the reflection of the mirror. "You. Trying to fight me. Failing."

The hero felt bile claw up their throat at that. They resisted the urge to swallow, to tense; it wouldn't do them any good, and it would probably only serve to delight the creep.

The villain seemed to catch it anyway, because they smiled.

"I do like your spirit," the villain mused. They continued to stroke through the hero's hair, carefully and diligently untangling every knots and snarl. "You're beautiful when you're angry. Defiant. You get this fiery, helpless look in your eyes. The blush is also very becoming. So, you see...it wouldn't be half as fun if you didn't try to fight back."

The hero studied them, trying to decide if that was reverse psychology. They might have preferred it if it was reverse psychology.

The villain laughed, softly, at whatever expression they saw on the hero's face.

The hero jerked their head away. It felt good for all of three seconds before the villain reeled them back in with a much harder yank, making the hero's breath catch. They pulled the hero's head back against the chair, baring their throat.

Perhaps as punishment for moving, or perhaps simply because they could, the villain leaned down over their shoulder to press a kiss to the hero's throat. It looked positively vampiric in the glass. The hero half expected teeth. They hated that they shivered. They hated that they couldn't look away, in the spirit of car crashes, natural disasters and other terrible fascinating things.

The villain's smile edged a fraction sharper, a fraction smugger. They held the hero's eyes as they trailed more kisses along the hero's neck, across their racing pulse, until the hero was taut.

"Go on," the villain whispered. "Tell me not to touch you again. Dealer's choice on if you try a threat, command or plea."

"I think I might prefer me nice and quiet."

"Mm." The villain straightened. They turned their attention to the hero's appearance again, considering. "I knew you liked me too."

"That's not - I don't -"

The villain's smile turned positively wolfish.

The hero snarled; too frustrated for words, too...well. Too many things. Frustrated was the best pick. Better than fear, sinking and entirely too helpless.

The annoying thing was that it did feel better to be clean, with their wounds tended. It simply didn't feel better to have had the villain force them into a bath and out of their own clothes. It was like having their identity, their resistance, scrubbed away alongside the dirt. Dressed in the villain's clothes, with the villain's scent clinging to their skin, it was impossible to forget where they were for even a moment.

It was impossible to forget who the villain thought they belonged to.

There were times when the villain could be charming, seductive. When they first met the hero had even been flattered. The problem was that, after the seduction and shiny polish of it all had worn off, it was perfectly obvious that the villain didn't actually care if the hero was seduced or not. It was a preference - not a requirement. The villain would do as they pleased regardless.

Hopefully, the hero's friends would get there soon.

(They had to get there soon, right?)

"So pretty," the villain murmured once more. "And all mine. Let's go show you off, shall we?"

"I'm not yours." The hero had to say it. Even when they knew it was a trap, even when their voice came out hoarse, they had to say.

The villain laughed again, and swivelled the chair around so that they were facing each other. They smoothed their hands down the hero's trembling thighs. Then, their expression turned cold, as absolute as an old black-and-white fairytale, as unstoppable a death. They leaned in.

"Oh, darling. By the time I'm done with you tonight, you will be."

[azsazz]

Body and Soul

Vampire!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon req: "Okay but imagine vamp Az fucking you from behind in front of a mirror but you can’t see his reflection, only the way your body is shaking from the way he’s making you feel, moaning in your ear about how pretty you look taking his cock, making you watch yourself orgasm again and again and again"

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, mirror sex, overstimulation, cnc, fingering, oral (F receiving), powerplay, dubcon.

Word Count: 2,974

Notes: Your honor I love him

_________________________________________

“Did you think he could fuck you better than I can, or were you just trying to upset me?” Azriel’s voice is like gravel against your skin. His hands are planted firmly on your hips, holding you to his body with such an ease that if you hadn’t known he had immortal strength, you’d be slipping right out your cracked bedroom door and dashing for the buttery light creeping into your room.

Your heart is so loud, beating so frantic, so harsh, that you’re afraid it might just jumpstart Azriel’s in his chest behind you. 

It wasn’t your fault that the other vampires of his clan had taken an interest in you. You were one of the few females to attend this evening, and you were definitely the only human. They could probably scent you from the hall, across the acres separating their homes as you arrived with the shadowsinger. If Azriel hadn’t wanted them to talk to you, to flirt with you, he shouldn’t have brought you along.

Of course, it’s your fault.

Your fault for smiling at the golden skinned, bright haired male from Adriata, your fault for plucking a grape off of a skewer from the stocky Illyrian male with luscious locks who looked all too much like the vampire who had stolen you. Your fault for accepting the chalice filled nearly to the brim with a heady, warm, red cocktail that you thought might’ve been blood. You hadn’t taken a single sip, but rather done it to be polite to the important looking male with auburn hair and eyes that matched.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sure you didn’t, crow.” His voice is lined with anger, jealousy. Azriel has made it very clear who you are and what you mean, how you won’t ever escape him and how you should accept that fate. Your fingers tremble where they’re curled into your skirts as his golden eyes stare pins into your head. He has you turned toward the lone mirror in your room but his reflection doesn’t show. Instead of seeing the anger on his face you can feel it in the tension of his body, through corded muscles and hard fingers. “But you will learn, fast.”

His fingers trail the bodice of your dress and your breath hitches in your throat. You hate the way that your body seems to react to his closeness, the wet pooling between your legs and the way you press further into him without your knowledge. 

Azriel continues on and you’re frozen, watching in the mirror as he pops open the button at the top of your dress. The full curve of your breasts appear, skin smooth and biteable. Your eyes shutter as his fingertips trace gently across the tops of them, gasping when he dips his hands into the fabric to get a fistful of your flesh.

“Oh,” you breathe as he skirts across your nipples. They harden beneath his rough touch and you clench your legs together to keep them from buckling.

His whisper is a taunt, breath hot against your skin. “You like that, don’t you?”

You clench your jaw, snapping your fallen lids open as you come to reality. Yes, some sick, twisted part of you might want this, want his hands on your body, his cock in your cunt, and his teeth in your neck, but you can’t. This male has stolen you away, taken you from everything you’ve once known and had once loved. You’re nothing now, nothing more than his human pet to play with and flaunt and fuck as he pleases.

“No,” you say, but your mind is screaming yes.

“The only person you’re lying to is yourself,” he taunts, nipping at your neck. It gives you goosebumps. As if to prove his statement, his hands find the center of your dress and he tugs. Buttons go flying and you squeal as your breasts fall from containment, but in the mirror it’s only you. “Watch what I’m going to your body,” his voice is a whisper of darkness that makes the candles flicker and shivers sprint up your spine. “You’ll see exactly how much you want this, crow.”

You can’t swallow past the lump in your throat. You’re left watching as he rids you of the rest of your clothes with ease, such strength but so gentle as his hands caress your skin. Each touch leaves your stomach twisting, yearning for more.

Everything stills when he removes himself from your body and circles you, gleaming eyes drinking you in like the summer sun he longs to feel across his face. You whimper as the hard press of his cock leaves you and mentally curse yourself. He shouldn’t be having this much of an effect on you, especially as his fingertips brush your hips but he places his entire palm across your abdomen as he stares down at you, dark hair hanging across his forehead and his dark eyelashes thick.

You think he might lean down, eat the space between you to press his lips to yours, but he holds back, studying you. You don’t know what for, and a part of you wants to duck your head and shy away from those intense eyes, but the other part of you wants to lift your chin and stare right back. 

Azriel finds what he’s searching for, fang peeking out of his lip when he smirks wickedly. Your heart tumbles and a retort sits on the tip of your tongue but he’s lowering himself to his knees.

He helps you take a seat, and spreads your legs with little effort. He’s kneeling before you like he’s about to pray, to dip between your thighs and taste your slick like the holy water that burns him. His nostrils flare as he takes a long look, eyes flickering down your body until you’re sure that your cheeks are bloodred.

It’s too much, his look too heated and you need to break the tension. “I—”

“I want you to stay sitting,” he interrupts.

“Why?” you ask, arms already shaking with anticipation. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep yourself sitting, especially if he puts his head between your legs like you’re hoping.

His fangs flash before he can control himself, not used to anyone asking such questions.

“You’re going to watch how prettily you take my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. All from the view of this mirror,” he says, lowering himself further. He kisses the meat of your thigh roughly and you grunt, trying to pull it away but he takes each leg in his grasp and tugs them over his shoulders, toes brushing the skin of his wings. His eyelashes flutter but his stare is demanding. “Look at yourself. See how much you want this, want me, and maybe you’ll finally realize how much you want this.”

You want to bite back at him with some snarky retort but he’s licking a stripe up your center and you’re crying out at the sensation. Azriel hums and the vibrations stimulate your clit. Already, your head is thrown back on your shoulders and your breathing is uneven, all from one taste.

“Look at yourself, or there will be no more.”

No more? Isn’t that what you should want? Him to stop? It is, but your body is moving on its own, sliding closer to his mouth as your head straightens and you meet your own burning reflection in the mirror.

“More,” you demand, but it’s shaky at best.

You can feel his smirk against your skin as he dips his mouth again, dipping into your wet heat this time and tracing praise across your clit. He sucks, hard, and the noise that comes from you is broken, thighs pressing closed on his head and toes curling against his wings. It makes him shudder and you’ve won this one, but then he’s flicking his tongue so fast against your clit in time with your pounding heart, you almost can’t take it. 

Azriel adds his fingers into the mix and you watch in the mirror how your cunt welcomes him. Your slick gleams in the reflection, his tongue still attacking your clit as he works one, then two, and a third into you, a steady pace until he’s curling his fingers into that bundle of nerves that makes your arms give out and your body writhe.

“Good gods,” you pant, hands finding his hair. You hold on tightly, grinding your cunt against his face. He feels good, too good. His centuries of practice have surely paid off.

Your chest heaves when he pulls away, eyes shut in bliss. You shouldn’t have wanted it, it shouldn’t have felt that good, but you’re still reeling in it, enjoying the post orgasm haze as he quickly undresses. 

You don’t even understand what’s going on until he’s grabbing you and flipping you with such ease it shocks you, clearing your mind in an instant as you realize how you’ll never be able to fight against him and escape, his brute strength is impossibly superior to yours.

“Look,” he commands, pulling your head up with the fistfull of your hair he has. It strains deliciously in his fingers and your mouth falls open in a desperate gasp as he thrusts into you. Tears prick your eyes at the sensation, the frustration because the part of you that twinges with lust whenever he’s around wants to know if he’s enjoying this—you. You want to see him, watch the way his firmly set jaw twitches as he comes closer to his orgasm, the way that broad chest heaves and the length of his awfully long cock as he slides it almost all the way out only to fuck his way back into you—only his reflection doesn’t show. “Look at yourself, such a pretty little human, all wrecked and drunk off my cock. Tell me, crow. When they told you about the monsters lurking in the night, did they mention my fucking cock was the most dangerous of all?” 

“No,” you pant, leaning further into his body. Your eyes roll back into your head as his arm moves across your stomach, cementing you to the front of his chest like you’ve always belonged. You can say that you hate him all you want, screaming it morning, noon, and night, but the fact of the matter is, is that your body fits near perfect against his and reacting to him in waves, pleasure building on top of pleasure in his presence.

“If they had,” he growls, tone low. It rumbles up your spine and you arch, head thrown back. Azriel towers over you, and you only catch a glimpse of his black hair dipping into his eyes before he’s wrenching your head straight and forcing you to look at yourself again. You can’t help but whine, but it melts into something languid as he hits the bundle of nerves, sensitive from your orgasms already. “Would you still have wandered into the forest that night?”

No, your mind screams at you. You wouldn’t have stumbled into the woods at all, had you had a choice, if you had known that he would be on the other side of that moonlit path. You would’ve much rather suffered in the human lands instead of letting him slowly set your soul on fire like this.

“Stop,” you cry, chest tight as you’re reminded of that night. You clamp your hands onto his, trying to claw his fingers from your body, but he’s unrelenting, distracting you with a kiss.

“There is no stopping this. I am going to be your pleasure, your pain, your laughter, and your solace. No one is going to worship you like I do. I am going to give you everything you need or nothing you want if you command it. I am the court that you thrive in and the home you never want to leave. I’m going to be the first thing that you see when the sun cracks through these windows and the last thing you see when the moon kisses the sky. I’m going to be the air that you breathe, the blood in your veins, until your beating heart stops by my lips and my lips alone.” 

Your fingers twist tighter in his dark locks as you cum hard, his words consuming you. His sharp canines scrape against the skin of your throat and it only adds to the arousing sensation that’s wracking through your body. You’re shaking, unable to form dizzy thoughts into a coherent sentence as he continues his ministrations, so deeply into you that you swear you can feel him in your throat. 

His confession, an onslaught of utter dominance, utter need. Azriel said it not as if you have an option in the matter. You’re going to be his and he’s going to give you everything you’ve yearned for but nothing in the human lands could ever compare. And even though you’ve hated the very marrow in his bones since you’ve met him, you can admit that the feeling of being wanted with every fiber of someone’s being is…nice.

“Azriel,” you cry, tears spilling down your cheeks. He licks them away with a growl. His thrusts are long and hard and he doesn’t slow, if anything, the clenching of your cunt around his cock as you cum again makes him move faster, harsher, because he’s going to take as many orgasms from you as he can until you’re so fucked out you won’t be able to try and escape. “Please.” 

Your fingers are trembling from where they’ve fallen to your sides, digging deeply into his hips as you hold onto him for dear life. He smothers your mouth, stealing a kiss that ravages you, but you’re keening and whimpering against his lips from the sensitivity. “Take it, crow. I’m not done with you yet.”

But you can’t, not even when his fingers find your clit and start to rub soft circles, working you up again. You writhe against the sensation, drawing your fingers up in long scratches against the perfectly tan skin. It does nothing but spur him on, and with his mouth pressed firmly against yours, you resort to the only thing you can think of that might get him to stop.

You bite him. 

Hard. 

Azriel grunts, hips faltering once, before he buries himself deeply into you. You can feel the splitting on his skin, the burst of blood on your tongue, and his hands are snaking up your body and grabbing hold of your breasts, tweaking your nipples once before he’s ripping his mouth from yours. His eyes are dark, pupils thick and you swallow the heady mouthful of blood harshly, realizing that your actions haven’t upset him in the slightest. 

He looks…hungrier.

“Did that satisfy you, crow?” 

Your breath sticks in your throat, watching intently as his tongue darts out to lap up the stray blood. The sight of it reminds you of how he was between your legs, licking up your wetness like it was somehow better than the blood he lives off of. 

It makes your cunt clench and his grin turns purely wild, showing off those sharp teeth, painted crimson.

Azriel manhandles you to the floor, ignoring your whimpers and pleas for him to stop. Your cunt hurts, but the warmth dripping between your legs with his hot cock pressed tightly inside of you feels all too good. 

His heavy body pins you face down. He’s a warm wight, and his hand slides around your throat, lifting your head and forcing you to stare at yourself in the mirror. You look utterly wrecked; fucked out beyond belief. Tears staining your reddened cheeks, lips swollen from the harsh kiss you’ve shared with the vampire plastered to your back. Your hair is a knot at the top of your head, unruly from his relentless pulling. You can see the imprint of his hand against your skin when Azriel holds your neck firmer, pinching off your airflow to cut off your incessant pleaing.

Even though your body feels like giving out, the way the new position makes his cock fit into you causes you to see stars. It could quite possibly be the lack of air you’re able to take in, dark suns bursting behind your eyelids, but his cock is hitting every spot that you need, and the hand planted beside your head snakes down to rub through the slickness between your thighs again, right to your clit.

Azriel’s not gentle. His motions become jerkier, breath heavy against your cheek as his orgasm builds. He’s losing control, and fast. He pinches your clit before soothing it over with a brush of his thumb, and he nips at your skin, softly at first, then harsher, but not drawing blood, never drawing blood because he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to stop himself should he get a taste of you. 

He’ll drink you fucking dry if he does.

Black smothers your vision and you can hardly see yourself in the mirror. Your hands are pinned beneath your body, completely at his disposal. But there’s another orgasm building with his fervent fingers and raucous thrusts. Against your better mind, you cum again, harder than the last. 

Azriel groans, releasing your neck from his grasp, letting your body slacken as he plants both hands to drive into you until he’s falling over the edge himself, crowing your name with a caw that rattles the walls of his aging manor. Your body goes slack as you gasp, the rush of air adding to the deliverance of what you hope to be your final orgasm of the night. 

He leans in close, breathing a caress of darkness against the shell of your ear. 

“You are my solace, am I not yet yours?”

[wecanbe-heroes]

Astarion x reader, gn!tav

Requested by a member of the bg3 discord I am in. Tav uses disguise self to show Astarion his reflection. 1.1k words. Short and teasingly sweet.

“Damn this blasted thing!” You hear glass shatter and lean up out of your bedroll, glancing in the direction of the sound. A pale figure stands outside his tent, a broken mirror at his feet. The other people in your camp side eye him before going back to their business, but you rise to your feet.

“What’s going on over here?” You ask gently as you approach, careful to avoid any glass on the ground.

Astarion whirls around to face you, a brief look of anger then shock. “Hello, darling.” His face is a mask of cool now, his lips poised in his signature smirk. “Silly me just dropped my mirror.” He bent to pick it up and a couple extra pieces of glass clatter to the dirt.

“I thought vampires couldn’t see their reflection?” You already know the answer, but ask anyway. This earns a sigh and Astarion looks at the mirror.

“Yes, this is true. A part of me keeps checking though.” He twirls it in his hands for a moment before placing it back on the stool by his tent. “If this wretched tadpole can make me walk in the sun again, I thought it might let me see myself again.” There is a yearning in his voice and you realize it has been over 200 years since the elf has seen his reflection.

“So you’ve never had a portrait made or anything?” You tilt your head slightly to the left.

“Ha! As if Cazador would allow that.” He scoffs and waves a hand. “No, I have no memory before being turned. All I know is what people have told me. White hair, vampire red eyes. Beauty to rival a god.” His smirk widens and he winks at you. You can’t help the faint flush that rises to your cheeks at his flirtations. While perhaps exaggerated, he is quite beautiful.

“I wish I could paint a portrait of you, Astarion. You deserve to see yourself truly.” You sigh. Artistic talent never found its way to you, your hands not built for the finer arts.

“That is quite alright my sweet.” His eyes soften for a moment. Unknownst to you, he is taken aback by your offer. No one has ever cared enough about his vanity, his desire to know how he appears to others, to offer to paint him. He jerks back as you suddenly gasp and clap your hands together.

“I can do something better than a portrait!” How could you forget? You run back to your bags, rummaging through them. You picked up a scroll a few days ago that might be just what you need. Finally, you find the scroll you are looking for. 

"What have you got there?" Astarion's voice holds a hint of wary, trust still hard for him. You give him a smirk and unfurl the scroll.

"It's been awhile since I've cast this spell so I'm studying it." You crack your knuckles and neck, studying the spell. It's not something you keep prepared and you're glad you picked this up in the abandoned house you went through earlier. Astarion steps back and you wave him forward. "Don't worry, it's not a spell for you. It's for me." You reassure him and stand to your full height. You study his features for awhile, long enough he begins to look uncomfortable under your scrutiny. You want to get this right, show him an as exact replica as you can.

"Alright here we go." You give yourself a shake and then begin casting. Magic sparks from your fingers as you wave them around your body. Tingles and light shocks spread across your skin as it changes. The spell is quick and basically painless, more of an itch as it adds an illusion over your body. Your camp clothes disappear, replaced by Astarion's leather pants and ruffled shirt. It's a bit weird, seeing the illusion take over but still feeling your normal look. Within a couple seconds, you are now standing eye to eye with the vampire. His eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape. You have never seen him flustered like this. "Well, what do you think?" You hold your arms out, pale skin gleaming the same as his. You don't feel the elongated canines in your mouth, but you know they are there when his eyes flicker to your mouth when you speak, giving him a smirk mirroring his own.

"My my, I am as handsome as I thought." His jokes armor against his own sensitivity. In truth, his hands are shaking and eyes keep jumping to different parts of you. You give him a slow turn to get the full view. Then you step forward, close enough your boots are nearly touching his. "Those eyes, my eyes. So red." He sneers at the sight. You wonder what color they were before he was turned. A shade of hazel or brown would be staggering, though he likely had a shade of blue as most high elves have. The red is piercing is he studies your face, his face. Drinking you in to burn forever in his memory. You reach up to his face, fingers ghosting the skin. Not touching him, but longing to. 

"I'm not sure if I got the laugh lines right." You say breathlessly, trying to ease the sudden tension. Astarion scoffs and rolls his eyes, you ignore the slight glisten in them to save his pride.

"I am an immortal being, I do not have laugh lines!" He moves away from you, smoothing the creases around his mouth. As you give a soft chuckle, the spell begins to fade. That itching tingle spreads across your body once more and then you are back to normal you.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you more. Maybe we can commision a portrait once we get to the city?" You suggest, though you're not sure if your team will make it to Baldur's Gate let alone have time for such a thing. 

"No apologies, darling. You have given me enough." He gets far off look on his face before he takes your hand in his, a rare display of affection. "Thank you." He presses a kiss to the back of your hand before he retreats back into his tent. You stand there for a moment in awe before picking up the broken mirror and the glass pieces. A quick mending cantrip and it looks brand new. You place it on the stool outside his tent before going back to your bedroll. The spot on your hand that he kissed phantomly burns as you fall to sleep, dreaming of soft red eyes. 

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Starlit Skirts

Astarion x fem!ElfTav|| ao3 || Masterlist

Rating: T Word Count: +2.5k A little smile stole onto Tav’s lips. “I would’ve married you in the half-hour between having my back blown out and breakfast this morning, if you’d let me. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Better yet—the day before that. A lifetime ago…” By the way his lips tenderly began to mirror her own, she could tell that it was decided. Astarion would be her husband by morning.

a/n: Valentine's Gift Exchange for @marcynomercy ; happy early Valentine's Day! ♡

Tav was growing bored, positively so. 

The early Autumn sun had pleasantly warmed her back when Astarion had first helped her onto the wooden step stool. Now, the chamber was bathed in the scattering light of late afternoons, the sun’s weakening sunrays crawling past the useless cheval glass in front of Tav.

Suppressing a yawn, her gaze wandered over the thick cotton sheet that was draped over the mirror, and—for the lack of anything better to do—she began to count the loose threats standing out from the tightly woven fabric one more time.

“I’m bored,” she declared when her eyes started to strain but a moment later.

Silence.

Tav rolled her eyes. Sometimes, it was rather irritating that Astarion only shut up when he was engrossed in his needlework—or when his mouth was otherwise occupied.

“You could at least entertain me a little,” she tried again, her voice light as she swallowed yet another yawn. “Since you’re keeping me on my toes like this all day...” 

It was no use. As if he hadn’t heard her, Astarion continued to kneel at her feet, rearranging her skirts every once in a while to have them fall in a specific way Tav wasn’t privy to.

Astarion had been working on her wedding dress for months now, and although she’d donned the dress for a number of fittings, she’d yet to see the actual gown. 

Astarion was adamant about keeping the look of the finished dress —his wedding gift to her— a secret, covering every reflective surface in the room, having her blindfolded if the need arose; working well into the night when their Elven eyes could only see in scales of grey.   

So, all Tav knew about her wedding dress was that it was quite heavy, which was at odds with the cool gossamer fabric that felt so wonderfully soft against her skin, mimicking her lover’s sweet embrace… 

Tav wasn’t able to suppress a third yawn. Not only was she bored, no, she was exhausted. 

It was the second day in a row that Astarion had her stand in front of him for hours on end, and her body was becoming increasingly stiff. She wasn’t used to feeling this drained by doing absolutely nothing, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped.

“Don’t move,” Astarion muttered all of a sudden, pearl head pins secured between his teeth as he grabbed Tav’s wrist to keep her left arm from moving.

He’d pinned the dress’ knee-length sleeves to its skirt some time ago, insisting that he needed to see where they would overlay with…well, he wouldn’t tell her with what exactly. 

Tav, frowning at his sharp command, hadn’t even noticed that she’d tried to roll back her shoulders, instinctively wanting to ease the dull ache in her joints. 

“And no peeking.” 

How had Astarion even known that she was glancing down at his silver locks when he was still re-pinning and inspecting the hem of her sleeve?

“Sorry,” Tav said, a tad too meekly to be considered honest as she ironed out her slouching shoulders.

Astarion acknowledged her with a huff, but that was more than enough for Tav. Wherever the Vampire’s mind had been wandering for the past hours, he was now back in the same room with her. 

She would not let him go again.

“How much longer must I suffer, heart of my heart? My feet are getting so, so tired,” Tav pouted, accentuating her misery with a deep sigh. “I don’t think I can stand like this for another moment.”

It only took a heartbeat for Astarion’s busy hands to pause in their movement.

Tav allowed herself a triumphant, albeit small grin. If there was one thing Astarion couldn’t endure these days, it was her discomfort.

“Another moment is all I need, love. Promised.” 

“I would so love to believe that, but you said the same thing at least three moments ago, you big old liar.”

Astarion scoffed, although Tav could hear a small grin of his own in his voice.

“Darling, it’s not my fault that I have to alter this dress every other damn week.”

Now, Tav let out a peeved laugh. The nerve of this man! 

“It is, though!”

“Well, kind of,” Astarion admitted sheepishly. “Maybe?” 

“Surely! Half of it is, at the very least.”

Astarion’s hands began picking at her skirts again. “Haven’t we already established that that was an accident?” 

“You really are shameless, Astarion, truly,” Tav shook her head, the grin on her face widening. 

How she wished she could see his face now! She could almost picture the way his eyebrows were knitted together, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a mask of concentration. 

The dull ache in her spine was all she needed to decide that she’d earned herself that very sight of him. A look wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Slowly, Tav lowered her eyes, glancing down at Astarion through her eyelashes. 

The bodice of her dress was ivory, she couldn’t help but notice entirely against her will; or a gentle cream. Maybe a very pale grey? It was already hard to tell in the growing half-light… 

Tav bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to peek at the dress, really; she just couldn’t help it. And it wasn’t her fault that she could see past the crown of Astarion’s curly head. Or that she noticed the golden thread he pulled through her skirts, sewing on…a pearl? A crystal? It was something shiny for sure, but what? 

Tav craned her neck, trying to get a better look at—

“Eyes up, damn you!” Astarion cried as he tilted his head back, catching her in the very act of gawking at as much of her dress as she could catch. “I swear I’ll have you blindfolded again.” 

Tav’s eyes darted back up, pointing obediently towards the useless mirror as if they’d never left it to begin with.

“Oh, don’t you threaten me with a good time, darling,” Tav sighed dramatically, trying to make light of the way her heart raced. 

“Let’s see if you’re this cheeky later tonight, shall we, pet?” 

“That could be arranged—if you’re on your knees like this again…”

“Tempting. Very tempting indeed,” Astarion purred, his hand vanishing under her skirts without warning. 

His nimble fingers trailed up from her ankle towards her knee, splaying out across the back of her thigh as he gently tugged her leg against his chest. 

Tav gasped. 

She didn’t dare another peek at him but was sure he was still looking up at her, face half buried in her skirts. The image inside her head expelled any lingering sense of her earlier fatigue. 

“But let’s finish this first, alright? It really won’t be long now—you think you can endure your plight for a bit longer, you poor thing?”

Tav swallowed. This time, it was her turn to hide her embarrassment as she tried to look absorbed in the little dust particles floating through the day’s fading light. 

“I suppose I can. But only because it’s you.” 

“Good girl,” Astarion nodded approvingly against her shin before he withdrew, his hands taking up their work outside her skirts anew. 

As it turned out, Astarion did keep his word this time. 

It didn’t take very much longer until Tav could feel one final tug at her sleeve. A moment later, Astarion shook out her skirts one final time before he rose to his full height in front of her. 

He unfastened the pincushion from around his wrist as he considered Tav from head to toe, circling her to examine his work.

“That should do,” he announced, coming to a halt behind her. “Close your eyes, love.”

Just like he always did, Astarion made to unfasten the lacing of Tav’s bodice. 

Unlike the other times, though, she turned around before his fingers could hook under the lacing on her back; her arms came up to protectively wrap around her middle. 

Astarion raised an eyebrow at her.

“What is it?” 

“I want to see it.”

A deep frown settled between Astarion’s eyes as he slowly stepped behind her once again.

As if it were a dance, Tav turned to face him once more. 

Astarion ran his hand through his hair, his crimson eyes searching hers as he tried to make sense of her silly game.

“You know why it’s called a wedding dress, my sweet? Because it’s worn on your wedding day— and that’s the day you’re going to see it.” 

“Well, I’m wearing it right now,” Tav established with a shrug, earning herself a puzzled look from her lover.

Fiancé. 

“What?” asked Tav. “We could be wed in a moment. Or three, considering you haven’t done your hair yet. The courthouse is right around the corner.” 

Astarion, clearly surprised by her sudden proposal, opened his mouth, exposing his fangs for but a second before he pressed his lips into a thin line. 

“All these months of wedding planning just to get it over with in one short moment?” He asked calmly. There was no bite in his voice, just honest curiosity. 

A little smile stole onto Tav’s lips.

“I would’ve married you in the half-hour between having my back blown out and breakfast this morning, if you’d let me. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Better yet—the day before that. A lifetime ago…” 

By the way his lips tenderly began to mirror her own, she could tell that it was decided. 

Astarion would be her husband by morning. 

But the pale elf was nothing if not a tease.

Taking a step towards Tav, his hand came up to her low neckline, fiddling with a detail Tav didn’t dare peek at—not under his intense crimson gaze.  

“Why so impatient all of a sudden, dearest?” 

Even while standing on the little step stool Tav had to raise her eyes to admire his beautiful face—the same face she wanted to look upon until the end of her days. 

“I’m exhausted, Astarion. And maybe I’m even scared that time’s running out,” Tav murmured, putting into words what had troubled her for the past weeks as her hand reached for his. In an instant, his fingers intertwined with hers. “And I really don’t want to labour through another dress fitting, now that it’s getting all serious…” 

Astarion pretended to look wounded as his thumb brushed over the back of her hand.

“Darling, and here I was thinking that we were already quite serious before our little accident.” 

It was true—Tav had already put a ring on the Vampire’s finger a good decade ago, allowing them to not only spend their nights but days together. 

There’d never been any need to rush to get married until now.

The Sunwalker’s Gift caught the fleeting daylight as Astarion raised his other hand to cup her cheek. 

He considered her for a moment as she leaned into his touch.

“Are you sure?”

Tav only nodded once.

“Always been,” she whispered without any hesitation before she pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. “And my feet are literally killing me. My spine, too. And, gods, my shoulders—”

Tav’s moaning was interrupted by a quick peck on her lips. The tip of Astarion’s nose brushed against hers as he pulled back just enough to look at the blush on her face. 

“We can’t have that, can we?” 

“Absolutely not.”

Astarion nodded understandingly, his hand moving from her cheek down her shoulders, along the long sleeves of her dress. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he lifted her off the little stool, hugging Tav against him for a moment longer than necessary. 

“Time for your wedding gift, then,” he whispered in her ear before he set her gently down on her feet in front of the mirror. 

“Will you close your eyes one last time, love?”

Tav let out a delighted little laugh as she squeezed her eyes shut—this time she really wouldn’t sneak a look. 

The heavy cotton sheet that had covered the tall mirror for months fell to the floor with a thud. 

“You may look now,” Astarion said, his hand still lingering —trembling?— on her hip.

Tav’s wedding gown was unlike anything she’d ever seen.

Not knowing where to look first, she gaped at the tiny crystals sewn along her neckline as they caught the light of the golden hour fading into shades of blue. 

Brilliant embroidery shot down her batwing sleeves like silver linings, naturally guiding her gaze down to her skirts.

“Oh,” Tav breathed, watching the lonely form in the mirror brushing her fingertips over the starlit skirts cascading down her swollen belly like water.

Golden threads brought pearls and crystals together in the most breathtaking constellations, making Tav think of the few fleeting moments between night and daybreak when the sky is at its softest periwinkle, kissed by the gentle fingers of the morning sun. 

“Well,” Astarion cleared his throat. “I wanted it to be unforgettable, but since you’d other plans…”

Dumbstruck, Tav could only tear her eyes from her reflection because she needed to see the man who had created all of this. What would she give right then to watch him stand next to her in the mirror?

“Astarion—” was all she could get out before the first tears began streaming down her face. “It is—it really is unforgettable!” 

Astarions pulled her back against his chest, his chin resting atop her head as he urged Tav to look back in the mirror.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” he purred against her dark hair. “It’s just some fabric wrapped around my entire world.” 

Tav hiccuped up a laugh, leaning back into Astarion. Maybe it was the tears, or the standing up all day, the babe growing inside her or just the dizzying feeling of profound happiness, but she didn’t quite trust her balance.

“Would you look at my swooning little bride,” Astarion grinned as he turned her to take her in, his hand unwilling to stray from her waist.

“Do you like it?”

Tav nodded vehemently, accentuating the truth of it with more tears.

“But I don’t have your gift ready yet, I’m afraid,” she pouted as Astarion tugged some loose strands of hair behind her pointy ears.

“No hurry, my heart,” he said, wishing with all his undead heart that he could see himself standing beside his bride in the mirror, caressing her ever-growing belly that had been so tedious to work with. Maybe one day he would. “Unlike you, I’m patience incarnate; I can wait a moment longer. Or however many more moments that little accident of ours may need.” Tav dared to stand up on her toes and pressed a lingering kiss against Astarion’s lips. “Let’s go show off this masterpiece of a dress in the meantime?” Astarion grinned as he beheld Tav lifting her skirts so that she could get a better look at a section of embroidery he’d laboured over for weeks. He wouldn’t tell her that her happy smile was the very thing that made her dress shine—that knowledge was his selfish little present to himself. “Why, darling, that’s a gift I'll gladly accept for now.”