#vampires of the velvet lounge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pursuitseternal · 2 months

Note

Can I get “Do your worst” for Ascended Astarion x f!tav please? Bonus points if you can get some bdsm in there 🥵

“Do your worst…”

Also now published as: “Choke Me” update for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader | Smut Ask fill

CW: BDSM, collar and leash, breath play, choking, spanking, Elven erogenous zones

It started after dinner, you decided to spend your evening in the library tonight, a roaring fire in the grate and books pressed to your faces. Lounging on top of one another on the couch, you stroke his soft silver curls as he rests his head in your lap.

You can feel his warmth through your thin silk skirt, his fingers tracing the seams of your skirt. His book rests in his hands, propped up on his belly, his back resting between the length of your extended legs.

If you close your eyes and ignore the fact your heart barely beats and your skin is corpse cold, it’s almost as if you’re back in the camp on those long, star-kissed nights. Just you… and your Rogue, curled by the fire in the comfort of his tent.

Every soft ambient sound is identical, the crackle of the fire, the whisper of pages as they turn, the soft wash of breath as he sighs and settles tighter against you.

For that moment, you forget that he is your Sire, the Vampire Ascendant.

You swallow, your throat pulsing against his latest gift, a tight fitting necklace that hugs every sinew of your neck. Black velvet ribbon and shining mithral chains. Costly. Precious. And dear.

Just like you, Astarion had said as he closed it around your neck, adjusting that encrusted ring between the chains just so…

Your fingers fidget with those chains now, the sharp, small metallic sounds making Astarion’s pointy ears twitch. “Enjoying your newest gift, little love?” he purrs, eyes still scanning the page of his book.

But somehow you can feel every tendon and sinew in his body coiling, readying to pounce.

“It’s elegant,” you reply, slipping a finger beneath the heavy chains. “But it is a bit tight.”

“Just tight enough to remind you,” he trails off, eyes flashing their crimson gaze towards you, upside down, before turning back to his page.

“Remind me of what?” you ask, almost absentmindedly, your eyes focused on the next few lines of your novel. You raise its soft little cover up in one hand, the plot thickens the more you read… and you can sense a nice smut scene about to unfold on your pages…

You didn’t hear his low voice through the cover…. Until he clears his throat with a noise, almost a snarl. An unamused one.

“Oh, my darling, please don’t tell me you’re ignoring me for some… fictional romance,” his voice whines in silken tones to shroud his suspicion.

Your heart leaps into your throat as he snaps his book shut. Pale fingers curl over the top of your novel as Astarion pulls it, revealing your now blushing face. White hot shame at being caught colors even your undead complexion.

You look down at him, his face upside down as he lies nestled in your skirts. From this angle, his smile is uncanny, that sly fang-glinting smirk that instantly makes you wet. And by the way his nostrils flare, he can scent it already.

It only makes that insufferable grin twist all the more rakish.

Deft fingers pry your smutty novel from your eager hands, setting it on the expanse of his belly. “I said…” he begins, that tone already low and threatening in the best possible way, “your necklace… your collar is to remind you to whom you belong, my treasure.” He frowns, pouting, at least you think he does, it’s disorienting to look at him topsy turvy on your lap. “Tch, not off to a great or convincing start, little love.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your book… only to have his fingers snap shut around your wrist. He keeps you there, hand suspended in one grip. His other hand reaches slowly to stroke the sensitive flesh of your neck, teasing and dipping beneath the soft ribbon and hard links of your necklace.

Your collar, he called it.

“Ah, ah,” he mocks in that chiding tone. “You haven’t earned your little escapism back yet. You might not ever,” he warns. “You think I’m happy letting your mind dwell on some dashing hero that lives on a page?” He pouts his thick lips before he licks them. “Are my words not enough for you?”

You blush, staring at him teasing at you from the middle of your silken skirts.

“Your blush betrays you, little love,” he purrs. “Seems you need reminding that what you have with me will satisfy you better than any man in your mind.”

“I don’t know,” you can’t help but tease back, “I have a very vivid imagina—”

That last word is swallowed as his fingers find the ring in your necklace and pull.

Hells… that tight little necklace locks around your throat, a steely caress of velvet and precious metal that makes your slow undead pulse pound in your ears. You gasp for air you don’t need, panic setting in regardless.

Astarion gives that low, wicked, rolling chuckle. “Should we test my imagination, darling?” he croons, pulling your collar just a smidge tighter as he sits up. He towers over you, pinning your thighs beneath his legs as he straddles you. “All that reading… I hope you can keep up with what I have planned for you in reality,” he taunts, tugging on your collar on the last word.

Your stomach blazes with need, hot desire running through your veins at breakneck speed. Even though you technically don’t need to breathe, your eyes are wide with the thrill of being controlled, your lungs burn at the foreign sensation of being stifled so thoroughly.

He pulls you by your collar, stopping only once your nose presses against his. That paper bound novel of yours in his hand, he waves it next to your head, pinching its offending existence between his fingers. “Perhaps we can repurpose this as a part of your reminder?”

“Hmm,” you feel bold, invincible, now that you have settled into the dull ache of pain and let it inspire you, making your hungry nerves crave more. “Do your worst…”

“Oh you know me, my treasure,” he growls, lips pressed into your ear, fangs scoring on your neck, “I only give you my very best.”

His rumbling laugh, low in his belly, inundates your senses. Yanking you by your collar, you gulp and gag at the force. Eyes shut from the pain, you slowly realize he’s laid you out over the couch’s arm. Vauguely something metallic clicks behind your head, and it’s only after he pulls you taut, bending you back by your collar do you realize he’s attached something to that ring.

A leash, a simple chain of matching shining bright metal he’s still fishing entirely out of his pocket. The links jingle merrily, your only warning before he pulls it tight. “My pretty consort,” he purrs, “I don’t like to see worry cast so on your face. Fear not,” his warm touch lifts your skirts up to bare your ass, “you are mine.”

The metal tugs your head to the side as he bends down, reverencing your ass cheeks with a few blunt-toothed kisses. Nothing to break the skin. Just enough to make you sigh some strangled moans.

Warm, dexterous digits slide their way beneath the gusset of your underwear to tease out that slick he’s been smelling. “Mmmm,” he purrs, “I hope this is all for me and not from that filthy smut you’ve been indulging in without me.” You hear it, that wet slick of his fingers crooking inside you, aiming for that spot that makes your thighs tremble instantly.

“Now, pet,” he sniggers at the moniker, easing your leash to give it a waggle. Just for effect. “Let’s repurpose this novel of yours. After all, if you can find enjoyment in its pages, perhaps I can too…” He tests the weight of it in his grip, the other hand pulling you by your leash and collar to make you strain upwards just slightly. “You asked for my worst, but you are only worthy of my best, darling…”

Smack. Your body jolts, pain-pleasure racing up your spine as the book connects with your rear. A little moaned grunt slips from your lips.

“What was that, my dear? Good enough for you?” he purrs, rubbing the reddening mark on your backside.

You hang your head, laughing breathlessly. “If I said no…” you leave the question unfinished.

He gives a little growl of disapproval, arm swinging back to land your little novel square on the other cheek. Harder this time, you yelp as your body lurches forward.

A smooth tug on your leash guides your face next to his, your lithe back bending as he whispers in your ear. The wash of his warm breath tickles. “Now, little love, good enough at last? Or does the man on these pages still hold sway?”

Leaning against his mouth you sigh, “It’s very good, but I think I’m missing something. My void is aching to be filled… I feel desperate with wanton need… pulsing, throbbing, leaking…”

“Hells below, my dear, is this the kind of drivel you’re consuming?” He chides you as he tosses the book down on the couch. “Well, if you’re wanton hole needs serving, I’d be a cad not to comply. No fictional man will get the better of me,” he chuckles.

You hear it, feel it. His free hand easing his trousers open enough for his cock to spring free. Your hands brace on the arm of the couch, your clothing too tight. You curse that silk on your torso, the bodice that pinches your breasts and irritates your skin.

Only your legs and ass are bare, free for his touch and his tongue. Warm breath washes over your cunt first, and you know he’s pulling out all his tricks to impress you, to distract you from your smutty little novel. Fingers tease at your clit, his skilled tongue lapping in and out of your channel, while you let out a string of colorful curses and florid language.

His laughter vibrates into your cunt, wetness dripping down your thigh. Spit… slick… you can’t tell any longer what’s seeping as his tongue fucks in and out, in perfect rhythm with his fingers as they circle your bud.

Heat coils in your belly, flooding your muscles with ungodly fire and need. Close, so close, you pant as just the right teasing pressure grazes your clit….

…until it all disappears. You scream in frustration. Your hips buck and grind into nothing

Hirrrk… you gag and groan at once as he pulls you by that jingling leash until you land, splayed on your back. Satisfied as you catch your breath he grins at you. You are a mess across the couch. A small mercy, he lets go of your leash and tosses those metal links to rest beside you. “Be a good pet,” he purrs, “and spread those legs for me again….” He cages you in, a wicked smile and arching brows as he hovers over you. “Unless you’d rather enjoy your… fictional pleasures?”

His finger slips inside your necklace, easing the chain apart as he settles comfortably between your thighs. Finally you can swallow and take a deep gulp of air. The relief on your face makes him leer, capturing your softly smiling lips in a kiss. He’s tender and slow, the warm tip of his tongue tracing your lips. As you part them, you taste the tang of your own slick. A hum escapes your throat, and you match the daring darts of this tongue with your own. Your hunger for him eagerly rises, hands pulling on the soft velvet of his breeches, gripping the backs of his thighs to bring him closer.

To guide his cock where you are aching for him.

“You haven’t even asked me once what I was reading about,” you rasp, taunting him with a mischievous tone. “You didn’t even notice its main hero is an elf…”

Those silver brows twist, canting in all their rakish glory. “Is that so?” he purrs, grinding the long shaft of his cock up and down your seam. “Was my little love being a quick study? Care to share your…”

Your fingers brush the shells of his ears, both at once. His cock twitches so hard between you, you can feel the precum leaking onto your belly.

“Hells,” he groans. But you’re not done. One hand at the back of his head, you turn him quickly, taking that soft flesh of his earlobe and sucking it loudly between your smirking lips.

The whimper from his mouth is divine, the shudders that race down his spine ripple in time with the jerks of his cock again.

Quickly, you slot him inside you, eliciting the loudest snarl from him you have ever heard. His hips move quickly, snapping into you, already so close to his release. “Godsdammit, darling,” he hisses even as you keep your lips tracing the shell of his ear. “I’m the one who should be…”

You suckle the soft curve of his ear again, nibbling your way to the tip. The faintest brush of your tongue on his precious, pointy ear has him shuddering and slamming into you with erratic abandon. “I… can’t…” he pants, breathing through his fangs clenched tightly. With one last curse on his own choking breath, he thrusts home, warm cum spurting deep inside you as he convulses and crushes you, the throbbing of his cock in your walls enough to throw you into your own orgasmic oblivion.

Pleasure tears through you, blistering hot as every muscle goes taut. Shaking, panting, you grip around his head, careful not to bite his ear in your fangs.

With one final graze of your teeth on his fleshy earlobe, you relax. You feel him shiver and swallow one last exhausted whimper as he lays all his weight on you.

A few breaths, and all is again as it once was—a warm, post-coital embrace. Wet. Hot. And wordlessly brimming with love.

Something prods at your hip beneath you, and fetching it, you realize it’s your novel. Reaching around his mussy curls, you find your page, fully aware that he’s still hard and seated deep inside you.

He makes no complaint now as you pick up right where you left off. Only his breathing grows steady, his head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers trace the fine metal of your collar. He mumbles something into the hollow of your throat. “What was that?” you reply, as if this was the most mundane evening in existence.

His voice is slurred, worn out from the intensity of his pleasure, and it makes you grin as he rasps, “You certainly did your worst, my darling, and I loved it…”

221 notes · View notes

cassieuncaged · 10 months

Text

Batstarion (Astarion x Reader)

Summary: You share some time with a certain Ascended Vampire in bat form.

TW: none :)

WC: 1 K

A/N: just a fluffy oneshot inspired by Pani-artz Batstarion series, that’s all :)

Long, leathery wings stretch across the tufted cushion, a flurry of squeaks escaping before you whisper an evocation.

“Amicus animalis,” your fingers trace his tiny body, getting lost in the snowy coat that covers him. “You may speak now, love.”

“Lord,” he corrects in that buttery voice you delight in so much, though it’s difficult to take anything serious when Astarion lounges about in bat form. White pinpricks appear from behind an upturned snout, his menace evaporated as beady eyes muster any intimidation. “I am your lord and you will regard me as such.”

“Oh?” You bring a finger up to one fang, releasing a droplet that’s offered to the bat. A tiny pink tongue laps at it lazily. “It’s I who sits upon your throne; shan’t I be your lord?”

“Do not mock me, pet,” he seethes, though that pink noses nuzzles against your finger before sharply latching. He sips though it feels more like a tickle when he’s in this form, “I’m ghastly.”

“You’re adorable.” You coo, scratching beneath a fuzzy chin as he likes. When you stop, you noticed his batty expression has softened, tiny features relaxed. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” he sighs, wings twitching against either of your thighs, cartilaginous sinews loosening as his claws dig into your breeches. “Turn me."

“Isn’t my lovely face enough?” You jest though some truth is hidden in that; after all, it’s been almost a year since you’ve last seen your own reflection. Now you chat with the bat form of your lover and closest confidant. Were you finally losing what was left of your mind?

“Don’t be naïve,” he tsks, sinking into the tufted velvet. “I’d like to look upon the audience.”

“The hall is empty, my love,” your eyes fall on the empty benches as wings threaten to flap. “Patience, I’ve got you.”

One hand slid beneath his warm belly, enjoying the heat you no longer wrought. Then he was carefully scooped and turned so that beady little gaze to see the ornate room that often clamored for the attention of the lord regally displayed upon the dais. Then a content chirp echoed through the vaulted ceilings as his body spasmed.

“Imagine if all the citizens of Baldur’s Gate saw you now, my lov…, my lord.” One finger began stroking from between tiny coned ears to the root of a wiry tail. His fur was so luscious and soft, not unlike the curls so carefully manicured atop his head, “Commanding with such ferocity propped upon the lap of your consort.”

“I suppose it would be quite the sight,” he chuckled, making her shiver like it always did. “Baldur’s Mouth would have quite the story. ‘Decrees heralded by rodent’; I think it’s silly enough to make the front page.”

“Think yourself popular, do you?” you teased, enjoying the moments he was seemingly relaxed and docile; they were so far few and between these days.

“Darling, I know I am.” He wriggled playfully against the cushion before pinkish hued wings began to flap. It was always mesmerizing to watch him float, expecting him to morph back into himself with a cloud of smoke. But he remained as he was, eyeing you expectantly. “The sun has long set; let’s peruse the palace gardens.”

The velveteen cushion was tucked upon the seat of the gilded throne as he began to glide to the far end of the hall, leaving you practically sprinting to catch up. Boots clacked against the marble floor, robes swishing around sure legs as you raced down the aisle. He paused, wings flapping in place as your place was taken beside him.

“Do keep up, dear,” he chided, little teeth clicking as he gracefully dove through the opened oak doors and down the decadently decorated hallway. “We haven’t all night. Oh, wait; we do don’t we?”

Your chuckle mingled with his, allowing the flamboyant bat dart to through the ornate glass doors that servants obediently wrenched open. It was a treat to watch him dive through the hedged archways, dipping down to bury his nose in a budding rose that practically glowed beneath the full moon.

“Pick one,�� he encouraged, “Put it behind your ear.”

Doing as asked, two red pinpricks watched diligently as the petals hung over the shell of your ear. Then, it finally happened, fluffy white bat dissipating into a black mist before Astarion stretched out in front you, gently tipping your chin upwards.

“Beautiful.” He cooed before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just beautiful.”

“Would ‘Batstarion’ agree?” you giggled, enjoying the quiet moments before the hammer inevitably dropped. He was so rarely this tender and you missed it terribly. Gently, he pulled your hand into his before drifting to the edge of the gardens.

“He loves flowers, that’s true.” He grins, wiping residual pollen from his own nose, “Though I’m unable to hold you with those bloody wings. Not to mention the language barrier.”

“I love the chirps,” you argued, enjoying the arm that instinctually wrapped around your waist, possessively. “It’s very cute.”

“I’m meant to be menacing,” he growls and you’re reminded of his other form, back elongating, jaw distending. You shivered at the thought. So you allow your fingers to dance across a strong cheekbone as his gaze fell upon the lights twinkling lights in the Lower City below. “How will I ever rule The Sword Coast if I’m not?”

“In due time, my love.” You reassured him, enjoying the caress of his cold breath against your ear. “This will all be ours. They’ll pledge fealty and you can rest upon as many velvet pillows as you please. I’ll even rub your little furry belly.”

“Will you?” then, when you expected his teeth to plunge into your neck but nuzzled against you again. A welcome change. “That’d be strangely comforting.”

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x ofc #astarion x tav #astarion #oneshot #fluff #batstarion #reader insert #female reader

559 notes · View notes

justfangirlstuffs · 8 months

Text

Chase

You're bored and looking for some entertainment, and Sun is more than willing to entertain you.

Vampire Sun x Thrall Y/N

CW: suggestive

Wordcount: 2530

You were bored. Oh, so very bored and restless. Moon was out on an errand. So it was just you, Sun, and DJ and the other spirits haunting the place. Speaking of Sun, you found him lounging in one of the sitting room chairs by the fireplace doing some kind of embroidery project. As soon as you entered the room, his eyes met yours and a wide grin stretched his face.

“Hello, sweet thing. What brings you here?”

You didn't answer right away, instead going over and leaning on the back of the chair he was sitting in. “I'm bored,” you said at length.

“Ah, I see. And you've come to me looking for entertainment, is that it?” He didn't sound bothered, setting aside his project and patting a hand on his lap, quietly inviting you to have a seat.

You smiled, stepping around and slipping into his lap, Sun smoothly pulling you close. “So how should I entertain my darling, hm? We could always go to the kitchen and I could whip up a little something. Maybe brunch with hot chocolate?”

“Are you sure you should be making that?” you asked playfully. “Maybe we should wait until Moon gets back.”

Sun reached down, casually pinching your lower jaw between his long fingers as he stared down at you with a playful smile. “Are you looking to be punished? I can't imagine why else you would antagonize me so.”

You held back a snicker. Apparently, Sun was super sensitive about his cooking skills. “It's fine, I'm not that hungry anyway.” In the background the logs in the fireplace crackled softly and the faint smell of wood smoke teased your nostrils.

“That's makes one of us, then,” he remarked, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. His breath was warm and soft, his caress was calming yet electrifying. You felt his sharp teeth lightly grazing at your neck, but... It wasn't even a bite. It was a tease. He chuckled and buried his face in the curve of your neck.

His lips lightly caressed you, his voice whispering in your ear, "Mine." He pressed a soft kiss at your neck, then another. Your pulse quickened and you were so distracted by just this. His scent was addictive, his words pure honey in your ears. And he looked so goddamn fine.

"Oh, is someone hungry?" you asked playfully, feeling his mouth teasing along your neck. Like he wanted something more. You rubbed your hands up and down his chest.

"I'm not only hungry." He looked up at you. His eyes darkened but the fire light still made them glow. He tilted his head and you felt his teeth again. "I crave you, my Star," he purred in your ear. His fingers were at your waist and he moved them up, up, up, under your clothes. His touch was electric. He was as bold and teasing as you wanted him to be.

Your eyes widened, face going red as his fingers snuck under your shirt. You quickly grab his hands, stopping him. "W-wait! I... um... this is just really fast."

His grin became wider as he felt your grip on his fingers. "Too fast?" He said with a playful smirk as his eyes twinkled. "I suppose we do have the whole day ahead of us. I'm not complaining though."

You rolled your eyes but you were smiling. "You are absolutely incorrigible." All the same, you were grateful he had the courtesy to respect your boundaries and stop when you asked.

Sun chuckled. "Well, to be fair... I'm not entirely incorrigible. My hands are right here." He teased, and his fingers went up, just under the fabric of your clothes, touching your skin but going no further.

He was trying to make the touch as teasing as possibly. His fingertips were barely grazing your body, making his intentions clear.

"Your skin is so smooth." His voice purred again, like soft velvet. "It's almost insidious how... Desirable you are."

Your face burned with both embarrassment and appreciation at his words. Your heart was beating way too fast. You almost felt light headed. Okay, well if it was games Sun wanted to play, then you'd play one of your own. You leaned forward, giving him a surprise smooch. Then, in his moment of being stunned, you scrambled out of his lap and made a run for it.

When you gave him a sudden kiss, he froze. Time seemed to slow down and his mind blanked in a good way, his eyes sparkling once again when you jumped out of his lap and ran.

You heard his laugh behind your back. "Really, little star?" He taunted you. "If you think I'm letting you go, then you're sadly mistaken. But by all means..." His voice dipped, making your heart quiver with his next words. “Run as fast as you can.”

And run you did, through twisting halls and up and down staircases of the maze-like manor. You ran so fast everything was a blur and your body was quick to burn itself out. You paused for breath, looking for a place to hide and recharge. You ducked into what appeared to be a guest room. There weren't a whole lot of places in the room you could hide. Making a split second decision, you ducked into the closet and quietly shut yourself into the dark enclose space. You covered your mouth to stifle your breathing.

Sun walked near the bedroom and stepped in, his heels clacking against the hard floor. A small smile was plastered on his face and he moved his head slowly, trying to make out any sound you might've made.

"I know you're in here, my little sweet. You're not the only one good at playing games." His voice was soft but it clearly teasing you. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called playfully.

You kept your hands clamped over your mouth, breathing quietly through your nose while your heart thudded loudly against your rib cage. You could hear him out there. HUNTING for you.

"I can hear your heartbeat, little Star," Sun murmured, his voice and footsteps growing closer as he wandered the room. "I can hear your breath. So quiet. So fast." His tone was playful, but you could hear a drop of excitement in it. It was easy to tell he was having the time of his life with this game the two of you were playing.

Your eyes widened. Of course, he could hear your heartbeat. If that was the case, then he already knew exactly where you were. He was just toying with you. You crept further back into the closet, searching of a dark nook to hide away in but there was none to be found.

"There you are," Sun's voice lilted. You could almost imagine him grinning, but in his usual charming way. There was no escape. You heard his fingers gripped the door of the closet. "There is no use in hiding, sweet thing." His voice dripped with a smirk. He was enjoying the chase, no doubt, but he obviously wanted you too. "I'm getting in there, sooner or later. You won't escape this hunt."

Even though you know there is little use in it, you tried to hold the door closed. If only to prolong the inevitable. You could hear the door bend under Sun's force, his grip not too strong, yet not too weak, just strong enough so the door still stood. His fingers were moving up and down it, trying to find any weak spots.

"Good, good," he whispered, his voice was slightly lower but he was still amused. The sound of it was oddly addictive, almost hypnotizing. "Resist. Don't give up the fight."

A full body shiver ran through you at his words. It was a weird sort of thrill mixed with vindication and pleasure at his praise. He liked what you were doing. He liked it when you resisted. It just made the chase more fun for him. You used all your weight to hold the door shut, fighting and resisting, just like he wanted. Just like you wanted.

"That's it. Keep resisting, my Starlight. Make me break the door to get you." His voice purred darkly, sending tingling goosebumps racing up and down your spine. You could hear the sound of wood splintering under steel nails. It was clear Sun was determined to get rid of any obstacle that would deny him your embrace.

He was like a tiger. You were like a gazelle. And the whole game was a play of cat and a mouse. He was amused and the thrill of you holding off against him made him crave you more, want you more. Wanted you in his arms where you belonged.

Would he really break the door down? Honestly, you wouldn't put hardly anything past him at this point. You held out for as long as you could, but just when you felt the door about to give you jumped back. A cacophony of breaking wood and squealing metal ensued as Sun tore the closet door clean off its hinges, sending splinters scattering to the floor.

His footsteps creaked on wood and a gentle chuckle left his lips as he tossed the door aside and stepped into the small space.

Your breath caught in your throat as your back was pressed against the closet wall as he cornered you. There was nowhere left to run as he pinned you against the wall. His gleaming eyes flickered and his fingers gripped your hips.

"Mine," he growled softly, his claws lightly brushing your skin, tickling you, yet they didn't hurt. "Mine."

He didn't even give you time to say anything, Sun kissed you passionately once again. His tongue played against yours, your bodies touching, him pressing you against the wall. Goosebumps raised on you skin where his claws brushed, and you moaned as his tongue brushed yours.

You heard his laugh once more as he saw your goosebumps, his gaze tracing over your body, his eyes shining with joy. He pulled away, holding you by your cheeks and gazing directly in your eyes. His fangs were glistening like diamonds.

"You were thinking you were going to escape me?" He chuckled. "How precious of you, my darling." He was amused, his eyes still holding a predatory gleam, yet he still managed to make you feel safe. So, so safe.

"No," you admitted. "I didn't think I could escape you. I just... wanted you to chase me. It was... fun." It felt weird admitting all of this, like you were confessing to some sort of scandalous sin. But you didn't feel he would judge you for it.

Sun leaned his head towards your and whispered, "I knew it." His eyes were sparkling with joy. "It was fun, wasn't it?" His voice was quiet but the feeling of desire was very palpable. "Catch and keep. And you, my precious little Star, are caught." His hands held you tight and he looked so happy, leaning down to once more gently press his lips to yours.

You hummed into his kiss, feeling safe and comfortable. Is this what people often refer to as aftercare? You rather liked it. "It would seem so," you murmured in agreement, hooking your arms around his neck. "So then... you don't mind if I occasionally put up a bit of a fight? Just to keep things interesting?"

He laughed, his lips brushing against your forehead tenderly. "Oh no, not at all." Sun smiled. "In fact... I'd say that the hunt is the most enjoyable. The chase, the play for power. The game. I love the game, I could play it for hours." He chuckled and kissed your neck, his teeth slightly grazing your skin once again, causing you to shiver with delight. "You're my little Star. You're always in my reach and afraid to say..." Sun whispered, his teeth lightly biting you but not piercing skin. "There's no escape for you."

Good thing you had absolutely no desire or need for escape then. "Well, then let me give just a little bit of warning," you said before moving your head and biting his shoulder playfully. "This little star bites back."

Your bite was gentle but he let out a little moan, the muscles under your teeth twitching. "Oh, a feisty one, I see." Sun snickered. "A hunt with fire and brimstone. Fascinating. I must say, as a thrall you're a bit of a handful..." He hummed, stroking his long, nimble fingers along your jaw. "And I like this."

"I can be sweet too," you told him. "I'll admit. All of this is very fast. Faster than I'm used to. It feels like... hmm... like I've been crawling for a long time and now suddenly I'm running. So, do you think you can have the patience to let me stop and catch my breath once in a while?"

In all honesty, Sun was very tempted to just throw you on the bed and do some more enjoyable things with you, but... he could be gentle. He liked what you were playing, he liked the chase.

"We'll take it slow." He murmured and leaned closer so his face was almost touching yours. There was also a very faint glimmer in his eyes, as if he was expecting just one more kiss - hoping even. "Slow and steady."

"Thank you," you told him, smiling. Taking gentle hold of his face, you leaned forward and kissed him, knowing he wanted it as much as you did. You leaned against him, suddenly feeling completely tuckered out. "I think I need a nap."

"It would seem you pushed yourself just a little too hard," Sun chuckled, leaning his chin on your head. He held you in his arms, one hand stroking your hair gently. "You can sleep as much as you want, as long as it's in my arms," he whispered, his eyes glittering with affection and his gaze full of love.

His claws lightly brushed your skin, his eyes scanning your face, studying it like it was something precious. Because, as he said, you were. You were his.

You hummed and leaned against him, closing your eyes and letting loose a yawn. "That sounds nice. "

"I've been told that I'm also a good pillow." Sun chuckled, his voice calm and steady. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, laying down with you resting on top of him. "You can sleep here, sweet thing. I won't let anything happen to you,” he promised, kissing your forehead. “Sleep, rest, feel safe. You deserve all of it, my Star."

"Thank you, Sun," you murmured, curling up on top of him.

He held you closely, his arms hugging you tightly. His fingers were playing with your hair as his eyes were filled with affection. You suddenly realized how exhausted you were. His body felt warm and comforting, perfect to catch some Zs after all of the running and hiding.

"Sweet dreams, my precious little star," he whispered, once again wishing you pleasant rest. "Rest well."

And rest well you did.

#eyem #enthralling you enthralling me #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #sun x reader #sun x y/n #moon x y/n #moon x reader #vampire au #justfangirlwritings

226 notes · View notes

ghuleh-witch · 3 months

Text

Title: Fangs Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, blood drinking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia, Female!Reader Additional Tags: Dracopia, Vampire!Copia, no use of y/n, no beta, pwp Word Count: 3,238 Summary: Your best friend wanted you to come to a club with her. You agreed to go even though the club scene wasn't your thing. While your friend went off to dance, you somehow found your way into the office of the club's owner. Author's Note: This fic was inspired by the couch scene in RHRN.

Ao3 || Masterlist

You didn’t know what you were doing there. Clubs weren’t your scene, especially not goth-vampire-themed ones, but yet there you were, at the bar ordering a club soda while your best friend danced with some other girl on the dance floor. You watched the two women for a moment before you moved away from the bar to an empty spot along the wall. The red lighting and fog gave the space an eerie look as “Fangs” by Dionnysuss started to play.

“Take me through the dark. Hide me from the light. I miss your every touch—”

The music was too loud and you couldn’t hear yourself think. You sipped your club soda and looked around the club again. Your eyes wandered upward to a balcony with privacy shades pulled down over the opening. You briefly wondered what was up there before someone bumped into you and caused you to spill your drink on your dress.

“Hey watch it,” you said. A wet spot began to bloom on the black strapless dress you wore.

“Sorry,” the man dressed in a black Victorian-inspired outfit said before he disappeared into the crowd.

You sighed and moved along the way hoping to find the bathrooms. You slipped through a curtained partition with restroom signs above the entrance. After you dried your dress with paper towels from the bathroom, you reentered the hall to find the light dimmer and the walk to get back into the main part of the club much longer.

“The fuck is going on?” You muttered to yourself as you came up to a door. You looked behind you and the restrooms were out of sight. You knew you were still in the club. You could hear the music thumping right behind the other wall, so where exactly were you and how did you get so lost so fast? You opened the door and hoped it would lead you back onto the dance floor, but instead, it opened up into an office. That’s when you realized somehow you were in the room above the dance floor.

“Can I help you, piccolina?”

You jumped at the voice and looked to your left. A man with mismatched eyes sat on an ornate red velvet and wood-trimmed couch. His face was painted into some sort of skull design with white and black paint. His mousy hair flecked with gray at the temples told you he was some years older than you. He lounged back on the sofa in a black frilly-trimmed shirt and jeans textured with unique stitching and sewn-on bits of fabric. He held a wine glass with very dark red liquid in his black leather gloved hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got lost,” you explained, already trying to back out of the room. There was something about the man that just didn’t seem right to you. It was as though you honed in on ancient instincts that warned you of a predator. At the same time, curiosity got the better of you and you wanted to stay and find out who the exquisite man sat before you was.

“Hmmm,” he responded as he sipped his drink. “You looked bored out there.” He nodded towards the screen that was pulled down over the balcony. You could see out onto the dance floor, but you knew from the floor no one could see inside.

“You were watching me?” You asked as you took a step further into the room.

“I see everything in my club,” he said. He said up and swung his legs off the couch to plant his feed on the ground. “Copia Emeritus. You may call me Copia or Papa, and you are cara?”

“Papa?” You asked curiously.

“Just a title,” Copia said. “Now, what is your name?”

You swallowed and said your name as heat flooded your body. Now that you could see him better in the dimly lit room, you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. There was something about his eyes that bore into you and hypnotized you into approaching. You were so enthralled that you didn’t even hear the door shut behind you.

“And why did you come here tonight, piccolina?” Copia asked. He took another sip of liquid from the wine glass he held. “You’re obviously not having a good time. Why are you still here?”

“My friend wanted to come,” you told him. “She’s been going on and on about this place, so I told her I’d come with her because she didn’t want to come alone.”

“And as soon as she saw a pretty face she forgot all about you?” Copia presumed as he leaned back on the couch with a confidence that you’ve never seen before in someone. “Come sit? No reason to continue standing there.”

You nodded and your feet led you forward on their own accord toward the couch. You sat on the opposite end and looked towards the balcony. “You said this was your club?”

“Si,” Copia answered. “If you want to get technical it belongs to the organization I’m affiliated with, but I do run the place myself.” His eyes roamed your body. It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, but you did feel like a deer in the headlights for a moment. “Can I get you something to drink? I noticed some idiot bumped into you and spilled your drink.”

“No, no I’m okay,” you said. “I should…” You knew you should return your friend. She would look for you once she noticed you were missing, but it was like a magnet kept you rooted in place. Your body refused to move. “I should…”

“Should what, cara?” Copia asked as he leaned closer to you. You could smell his cologne—something earthy and woody that filled your nostrils and caused you to relax. It was then you noticed what was off about him. You got a glimpse of fangs when he opened his mouth to speak. You blinked as though you’d suddenly be able to understand what you saw.

“You seem confused,” he then said.

“I…” You trailed off. “Sorry, I think the lighting is just messing with me.”

Copia smirked. “Sure, let’s say it’s the lighting, eh?”

You didn’t know when he moved from his spot at the end of the couch to the spot right next to you. You had blinked and he was just there like that’s where he sat the whole time. One of his gloved hands came up to your face and gently moved a stray lock behind your ear. “You smell divine,” he rumbled. It sent tingles down your spine as his fingertips traced down your neck. He leaned in close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Divine and downright sinful.”

You knew you were clear-headed. You didn’t have a single drop of alcohol that evening, but nothing made sense. You didn’t understand what was happening. Yet, you still turned your head and pressed your lips to his. It satisfied the sudden urge and lust that had taken you over.

He seemed surprised. He stilled momentarily before one hand wrapped around your waist and dragged you closer and the other cupped your cheek. “You sure you want this,” he murmured against your lips when the kiss broke for a second. “Because I’m going to do more than just kiss you if you say yes.”

“Yes,” you answered. And you did want whatever was to come. You needed to know what it would be like with him and why he was a predator and you the prey.

“Good,” he said. “Because it was going to be a shame if I couldn’t have a taste.” His lips moved down over your cheek and jawline and pressed kisses to your skin as he went. He came to your neck and brushed your hair aside. “You know what I am, si?”

“I—” You began and then things started to click together—the cup of the dark red liquid, the hint of fangs, his whole aesthetic, the theme of the damned club. “You’re a vampire,” you breathed.

“Very good,” Copia purred in your ear. “You’re smart, piccolina .” He pressed a few kisses to your pulse point which made your breath hitch. “I’m going to have a taste now, okay?”

“Okay,” you answered. You trembled in anticipation as you felt the graze of pointed fangs on your skin. A sharp pinch and hot pain caused you to gasp, but the sensation didn’t last. You felt good; a feeling of pure bliss filled you as he drank your blood. You could feel hot rivelets of blood flow down your shoulder, back, and chest. The blood was never going to wash out of your dress, but you didn’t care. It was black and no one would notice. All you cared about was the feeling of his fangs in your neck.

Your hand rested on his chest, fingers gripped into the soft fabric of his shirt. “Fuck,” you breathed. “W-why does that feel so good?”

He chuckled against your skin before you felt his mouth pull away. He stared at you, blood on his lips and chin. “Yeah? Does it feel good, piccolina ?” He asked. A finger traced the blood that trickled down your chest and to your breasts. He smeared it against your skin. “I’m glad it does. You make it hard to control myself.” His finger began to pull down the fabric of your dress. “May I?”

You nodded and watched as he pulled down the top of your dress enough so your breasts spilled out. His tongue was on you then, and he licked the smear of blood clean from your skin before his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as a hand came up to card through his hair.

“So vocal, cara, I like it,” he said. His tongue flicked over your hardened nipple as his hand palmed your other breast. “Be as loud as you want, cara , no one can hear us up here.” His hand moved from your breast and down your body. He pushed up the hem of your dress to reveal the lacey blue panties you wore underneath. His fingers brushed over your clothed center and you involuntary bucked your hips.

“Please,” you breathed. Your heart hammered against your ribs as unfeathered desire and need coursed through your veins. You felt as though you’d die if he didn’t touch you right then and there.

“Please what?” He asked. A sparkle appeared in his eyes as his lips formed a smirk. “Use your words, piccolina .”

“Touch me, fuck me, I don’t care I just need you,” you whined. You knew how desperate and pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. You needed to satisfy the craving for him that clawed at your insides like a rabid animal.

“How about I do both?” He proposed. He slipped down off the couch to his knees between your legs. His fingers found the elastic waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs and around your heels. He bunched them up and stuffed them into his pocket without explanation. His hands pushed your thighs open wider. “Bellissima,” he breathed before leaning forward to capture your lips.

You moaned into his mouth as his tongue swept through your parted lips. You could taste the faintest hints of coppery blood on his lips. Your hands rested on his chest but soon they gripped his shirt as you felt two of his fingers slip through your folds and to your clit.

“Jesus Christ,” you swore against his lips as your hips bucked against his touch.

He hissed. “Maybe refrain from saying that name, cara. It’s blasphemous.”

You didn’t have time to respond as he slipped a finger inside of you. You let out a moan, the leather of his gloves cool on your hot cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you panted as he pumped his finger in and out of you. It curled upward just right so it hit that one spot that drove you wild. “Don’t stop,” you begged.

“I don’t plan on stopping,” Copia chuckled. He slipped a second finger into you and stretched you open with each thrust of his hand. His thumb rubbed tight circles against your clit. “You look so sweet falling apart for me,” he said as he leaned forward and licked at the bite mark on your neck.

You choked out a whimper as the coil in your middle tightened. “Close,” you managed to say, your knuckles white against his black shirt.

“Come for me,” he said in a low rumble. “Come for me, piccolina .”

A few more pumps of his fingers and you came hard. Your walls clenched around his digits before you went limp against the back of the sofa. You looked down at him and watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You bit your lip at the lewd act and met his eyes.

“You taste as decadent as your blood,” Copia purred as he repositioned you to lay back on the sofa. He got up, one knee on the couch between your legs. His erection strained against the laces of his pants, and you couldn’t help but sit up and unlace them. Your mouth found a sliver of skin between his shirt and pants. He let out a pleased hum as his hand came up to stroke your hair.

You chanced a glance up to his face to see him staring down at you. His pupils were blown wide with lust and hunger. The look made you bite back a groan as you opened the laces of his pants and pushed them down his thighs. He didn’t have on underwear under the pants, so once his pants were passed his hips, his cock sprung free. He was thick; thicker than anyone you’ve had before and you knew the stretch would be delicious. Your mouth watered at the thought as you wrapped your hand around his length and began to stroke him slowly. Your other hand fumbled to undo the buttons of his shirt.

He gently batted your hand away and began to undo the buttons himself. His head lulled back as a groan escaped his lips. “Cazzo, così buono per me (Fuck, so good for me),” he muttered as he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. It fell forgotten to the floor.

You admired his figure—from his chest hair that tapered down his torso to his pelvis to the three sixes tattooed on his peck in a swirled pattern and to the little bit of belly he had. You pressed kisses around the soft skin of his belly button as your hand still pumped his cock slowly.

“Keep that up, cara, and I won’t last,” he groaned before he gently pulled your hand off him. “And I want to last.” He positioned you the way he wanted on the couch so that he was between your spread legs and ready to enter you. “Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” you said as you nodded your head. “Please, I need it.”

“And you’ll have it,” Copia said. He leaned down and kissed your lips as the tip of his cock nudged your entrance. “Breathe for me,” he said before slowly pushing into you.

You let out a hiss at the intrusion. The breath was sucked out of you. His cock stretched your walls and it caused a sting that became a pleasant burn. He took his time so you could adjust to his size, and before you knew it, he bottomed out in you with a moan.

“So fucking tight,” he gritted as he held himself above you. “Cazzo, you feel so good. Let me know when I can move.”

“Move,” you panted desperately. “Now.”

“So demanding,” he tutted. He slowly pulled out and thrust back into you.

He kept the pace steady—not too slow or too fast. The sound of both your breaths and moans filled the room as he leaned down to your neck.

“Need another taste,” he grunted before he bit into your neck once more.

You cried out; the pain and the pleasure were nothing like you’d experienced. “Shit,” you moaned. “Feels so good.”

His reply was muffled against your neck as he drank. Between him fucking into you and sucking your blood, you started to feel dizzy which only added to your pleasure. “F-fuck,” you whined as you slipped a hand between your bodies and began to touch yourself. You needed more. You needed every nerve ending in your body to be lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Sì, brava ragazza, toccati per me (Yes, good girl, touch yourself for me),” Copia groaned as his eyes went to the space between the two of you. He watched as his cock disappeared into your cunt before he buried his face in your neck and his fangs pierced your skin again.

Your head swam, but you didn’t know if it was from blood loss or bliss. As you rubbed your clit with your fingertips in time with Copia’s thrusts, you felt your core grow taut. You felt Copia release your neck and raise his head to look down at you.

“You’re getting close,” Copia grunted as his speed picked up. He licked the blood from his lips and moaned. “I can feel it. Are you close, cara ?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

He tutted. “I want to hear you say it. Are you close for me, cara?”

“Yes,” you panted. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

“Good girl,” he responded as he thrust hard and deep into you. “So am I. Come for me again, cara.”

His hips snapped against you and the coil snapped. Your vision whited out for a split second as your back arched off the sofa. You cried out in ecstasy. “Papa! Copia!” You whimpered as your legs shook.

“Sto per venire (I’m gonna come),” Copia grunted as his thrusts became erratic. Four hard and deep pumps later and he came inside of you. His seed flooded you and filled you. His arms shook as he lowered himself to the sofa, careful to not crush you in the process. “Cazzo, you are—you are—” He seemed to struggle to find the words.

You smiled and laughed lightly. “So are you,” you agreed.

He chuckled, fangs visible between his parted lips as he moved a lock of hair from your forehead. “Not what you expected tonight, was it?”

“No, no it wasn’t. I didn’t know what—oh shit, my friend,” you said as she sat up. “I need to go before she notices I’m missing.”

Copia backed off of you and gave you space to fix your dress and make yourself look appropriate. “I suppose I’m not getting my panties back?” She asked him.

“Hmmm not a chance,” Copia smirked. “At least not today. Maybe next time?”

“Next time? That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” you responded as your own smirk played on your lips.

“Go find your friend, cara. And when you want to see me again, all you have to do is step into this club. I’ll make sure you get to where you need to be.”

You heard the door creak open and looked behind you. You never remembered closing it. When you looked back at Copia he was gone and the window behind a large desk was opened to the cool night air.

#ghost #the band ghost #copia #papa emeritus iv #dracopia #dracopia x female reader #dracopia x reader #copia x reader #copia x female reader #copia x you #dracopia x you #papa emeritus iv x female reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x you #ghost fanfic #my fanfic

106 notes · View notes

hellokittyyyysblog · 1 month

Text

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷/ part 5

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

The room seemed to pulse with the low, rhythmic thrum of bass, the sound reverberating through the floors and walls like the heartbeat of some slumbering beast. You forced yourself to breathe, but the air felt thick, almost tangible as if it had been saturated with something dark and ancient.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of the scene before you, but the low lighting and the hazy fog swirling near the ground only added to the sense of disorientation. Shapes moved in the shadows—figures draped in luxurious fabrics, their faces partly obscured by the dim light and the heavy scent of incense that filled the room. It was intoxicating, almost overpowering, and for a moment, you wondered if it was clouding your judgment, dulling your senses to the danger you had just walked into.

At first, you couldn't quite comprehend what you were seeing. The way they lounged on the plush, velvet couches, their movements languid and almost sensual, might have been mistaken for simple indulgence. But as you focused, the horror of it all became unmistakable: a man, his skin impossibly pale, was bent over a woman’s wrist, his lips pressed to her flesh. But it wasn’t a kiss, it was far from it—his mouth was stained with blood, and the woman’s head lolled to the side, her eyes half-closed, as if in some drugged stupor.

A wave of nausea rolled through you as the reality sank in. They were feeding. Not from goblets of wine or some theatrical prop, but from the veins of living, breathing people. The sight of it made your knees weak, your hands trembling at your sides. You had known this would be dangerous, had braced yourself for the possibility of violence, but nothing could have prepared you for the raw, predatory hunger that filled this room.

Your gaze shifted, drawn deeper into the shadows. On the dance floor, people moved with an eerie synchronicity, their bodies swaying in time to the relentless beat. But there was no joy in their movements, no life—only a dull, mechanical rhythm as if they were being controlled by some unseen force. Their eyes were glazed, their faces devoid of expression, and it struck you with chilling clarity: they weren’t dancing because they wanted to, they were dancing because they had to. Because they were compelled. This was your first thought.

Then, in the midst of it all, your eyes caught on a figure slumped in a corner, partially obscured by the thick, dark, velvet curtains that hung from the walls. A girl, her skin pale and her limbs limp, her head resting at an unnatural angle. Her hair fell over her face in a tangled mess, but you could see enough to know something was terribly wrong. She looked lifeless, like a discarded doll, her eyes closed, as a man—tall, thin, and monstrous in his predatory stillness—leaned over her, his mouth fixed to her neck.

The sight of it was a punch to the gut, the breath leaving your lungs in a sharp exhale. This wasn’t just feeding. This was a violation, a brutal theft of life, and the girl—God, she looked dead already. Or if not dead, then so close to it that the difference was negligible. Your mind rebelled against the image, trying to reject what your eyes were seeing, but there was no escaping it. This was real. This was happening.

You forced yourself to move, taking a hesitant step forward, you wanted to help the girl, to do something but the sight of a young boy on the couch—so pale, so still—brought you to a stop once more. The man feeding from him lifted his head, his lips red and wet, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. He turned slightly, and in that brief moment, his gaze swept over the room—and landed on you.

Your blood turned to ice.

In a blink, he was standing right in front of you.

"Lost, are we?" His voice was smooth, almost soothing, but there was an edge to it that made your skin crawl. He was close, too close, and you could feel the air around him, thick with a metallic scent that turned your stomach.

You tried to back away, but your feet were rooted to the spot, every muscle in your body locked in place. You couldn’t even blink, as if his gaze alone had paralyzed you.

"I—I'm not supposed to be here" you stammered, your voice barely a whisper, betraying the fear gripping your entire being.

"On the contrary" he purred, a twisted smile curling at the corners of his lips. "You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. What’s your name?"

Your mind raced, searching for an answer, something to say that wouldn’t betray your sheer terror, but nothing came. The words caught in your throat, and all you could do was stand there, wide-eyed, as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating.

"Don’t be afraid" he continued, his tone almost mocking. "We don’t bite... too hard."

The humor in his voice was a stark contrast to the horror unfolding around you, making the situation all the more surreal. He tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that made your skin crawl.

"What brings you here, hmm?”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather what little courage you had left. "I was just looking for someone... a friend" you managed to say, hoping the lie wasn’t as transparent as it felt.

"A friend?" He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Well, I assure you, you’ve found much more than that."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, cold and almost delicate. You flinched, the contact sending a jolt of panic through you.

"Stay a while…I think you'll find my company—our company... intriguing."

Your mind screamed at you to run, to get out, but his presence held you in place, like a predator toying with its prey. You knew you had to play along, at least until you could find a way out.

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might already be too late.

His cold fingers slid around your wrist, the grip deceptively gentle but unyielding, as if he was inviting you somewhere while simultaneously ensuring you had no choice but to follow. The icy touch of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and your pulse quickened beneath his grasp.

"Come" he murmured, his voice a low, velvety whisper that carried an undercurrent of something darker. "Let me offer you a drink. It’s the least I can do for a new friend."

You tried to pull back, your instincts screaming for you to retreat, but he held firm, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something hypnotic about the way he looked at you—an invitation and a warning all at once.

The woman who had dragged you into this nightmare blinked at you, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Have fun" she purred, the words dripping with a casual indifference; she seemed to disappear into the shadows as quickly as she had appeared, leaving you alone with him.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. "I... I really shouldn’t" you stammered, desperately trying to find a way out of this without provoking him. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"Do you?" His voice was silky, a thread of amusement woven through it. He began to guide you deeper into the room, and you couldn’t help but notice the way the crowd seemed to part for him, people stepping aside as if he was some sort of dark royalty. "I think you’ll find that wherever you were going can wait. After all, it’s not every day you get to experience something truly…unique."

The dim, pulsating lights reflected off his pale skin, casting eerie shadows that danced across his features: he appeared to be in his early twenties, with a youthful, almost boyish charm that belied the darkness in his red eyes. His smooth skin and lean frame suggested the vitality of youth, but you knew better than to trust your eyes.

As he led you further into the dimly lit interior, you passed by more of the strange and unsettling sights you had glimpsed earlier. The music thrummed low and steady in the background, almost in sync with the pounding of your heart. Vampires—there was no doubt in your mind now—lounged on velvet couches, their lips stained with crimson, their eyes half-lidded in predatory pleasure as they drank from the willing or perhaps not-so-willing patrons.

"Here we are" he announced softly as you reached the bar, where a small, ornate table awaited. He released your wrist, but the chill of his touch lingered as you reluctantly took a seat. "What will you have? Something red, perhaps?"

"Oh, I’m not thirsty" you managed, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your composure.

He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips. "Nonsense. Everyone’s thirsty for something." He gestured to a waiter who appeared out of nowhere, pale and silent, with eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the low light. "Two glasses" he ordered, his gaze still locked on yours. "Something of your finest"

The waiter nodded and disappeared as quickly as he had come, leaving you alone with the man once more. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and a tension that set your nerves on edge.

"Why so tense?" he asked, his tone deceptively gentle as he reached across the table, his fingers brushing lightly over the back of your hand. "You’re safe here. No one will harm you… unless you want them to."

The insinuation in his words made your stomach churn. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, trying to appear braver than you felt. "I’m not sure what you want from me" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What do I want?" He tilted his head, as if considering the question. "Perhaps I simply enjoy the company of someone… new. You intrigue me, and I find that refreshing."

The waiter returned, placing two glasses of deep red liquid in front of you. You stared at the glass, the rich color reminding you too much of blood, but you didn’t dare refuse.

"Drink" he urged, lifting his own glass to his lips. "It’s quite delightful, I assure you."

Your hand trembled as you picked up the glass, the cold surface pressing against your skin. You could feel his eyes on you, watching intently, and you knew there was no backing out now. Your mind raced, searching for any way to turn the situation to your advantage, but the fog of fear clouded your thoughts.

You hesitated, every instinct in your body screaming at you to stop, but his gaze pinned you in place, daring you to take that first sip.

As you lifted the glass to your lips, You lifted the glass slowly, your hand trembling slightly as you brought it closer to your mouth; but before the rim could touch your lips, a sudden force wrenched the glass from your hand.

Your head snapped up, and there she was—Natasha, standing at the edge of the shadowed corner, her eyes locked on the man across from you.

You blinked in shock, "Natasha" you breathed, your voice filled with a mix of relief and fear.

What was she doing here? How had she found you? But those questions would have to wait; the look on her face told you that this was not the time to ask.

"Now, is this any way to treat a guest?"

The man across from you raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback but recovering quickly. He leaned back in his chair, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his lips as he regarded Natasha. "Well, well, what an unexpected surprise" he drawled, his voice laced with a mocking undertone. "I wasn’t aware this one belonged to you."

Natasha's eyes flicked to yours for the briefest of moments, a silent reassurance in their depths before she returned her gaze to him. "She doesn't belong to anyone" she corrected him, her tone icy and authoritative.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Is that so? And what brings you here, Natasha? I thought you'd left this sort of place behind."

She ignored his question, stepping closer to you, her presence like a shield against the suffocating darkness that had been closing in. "Come on" she said softly, her hand reaching out to you. "We’re leaving."

You didn’t hesitate, nearly leaping out of your chair to grasp her hand, your heart pounding with a mixture of relief and lingering fear.

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, his amusement giving way to something sharper. "Leaving already? But the night’s just begun. Surely your… friend would like to stay for a little while longer."

Natasha’s smile was cold, devoid of any warmth. "No" she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "She wouldn’t."

He studied her for a long moment, the tension between them thickening the air around you. You could feel the unspoken power struggle, the way he assessed her as a threat. But Natasha didn’t flinch, didn’t waver.

Finally, he sighed, a sound tinged with reluctance. "Very well" he said, waving a hand dismissively.

“It’s been a pleasure, my dear" he said, turning his attention back to you with a leer that made your skin crawl. "I would’ve kept you company for a while longer, but it’s better not to get mixed up with this one." He nodded toward Natasha, his tone edged with grudging respect and sarcasm.

Natasha’s expression didn’t change as she tightened her grip on your hand and turned, leading you away from the table. You could feel the barely restrained anger radiating off her, the cold fury that promised retribution if you so much as hesitated.

You could feel the stares of the other people burning into your back, whispers following in your wake, but no one dared to stop her.

Once you were outside, the heavy door of the club slammed shut behind you, cutting off the muffled music and murmurs from within. Natasha finally released your wrist as if she couldn’t bear to touch you any longer, but the anger in her eyes had not subsided.

The tension between you was thick enough to choke on. But you couldn’t let her stay angry without explaining yourself.

“Natasha, I—“ you began, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to find the right words.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?” she hissed “Do you have a death wish, or are you simply too reckless to understand the danger you were in?”

“I swear, I thought it was just a bar—a seedy, exclusive bar, sure—but not a… not a nest of vampires.”

Natasha didn’t respond immediately. She kept walking, her steps swift and purposeful as she guided you through the dark streets.

“I wasn’t planning to stick around” you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper, trying to keep up with her pace. “I just needed to talk to the owner, to find out why my company was making donations to this place. I thought… I thought if I could get in, if I could just speak with him—”

“You thought you could waltz in and have a nice chat with the devil” Natasha cut in, her tone dripping with disdain. “Do you realize how absurd that sounds?”

“I didn’t know!” you repeated, your frustration bubbling up. “How could I have known? It was just a lead, something I had to follow up on. I didn’t expect—”

“No, you didn’t expect” she said coldly, finally stopping and turning to face you. Her eyes were hard, unyielding, and any warmth they’d ever held was buried deep beneath layers of ice.

“You didn’t think, you never do; and now you’re lucky to be standing here instead of lying in a pool of your own blood.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. The truth was, you hadn’t known—hadn’t had any idea of what you were walking into. And now, faced with Natasha’s anger, the full weight of your mistake pressed down on you, suffocating in its intensity.

Her words stung, but you couldn’t back down. “I’m trying to help” you insisted, though your voice wavered under her gaze. “I thought I could do this on my own.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her expression a mix of anger and something you couldn’t quite place. “You thought wrong. You think you can play in the shadows, dance with demons, and come out unscathed? You are more naive than I imagined.”

“I didn’t know they were vampires” you repeated, your voice rising slightly as your own frustration grew. “I just wanted to talk to the boss, to find out what connection they had. I never planned on getting involved with—”

“You never planned on anything” Natasha cut in sharply. “You acted without thinking, and now you’ve put us both in jeopardy. Do you understand that? Your bravery could have cost you your life.”

You flinched at her words, the weight of them pressing down on you. She was right, of course. You hadn’t known what you were walking into, hadn’t expected to find a den of predators waiting for you. But you also couldn’t ignore the need that had driven you there, the sense that you were close to something important.

“I’m sorry” you said quietly, feeling the full impact of your actions now that you were out of danger. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Sorry won’t save you next time,” Natasha said, her tone unrelenting. “You are fortunate that I was there to pull you out. If you keep putting yourself in danger like this, you won’t be so lucky.”

There was a moment of heavy silence, broken only by your shallow breathing. Finally, Natasha took a step back, the tension in her posture easing just slightly.

“Next time, you will think before you act” she said, her tone still cold, but the edge of anger had dulled. "If you ever put yourself in danger like this again…I will be forced to remove your memories."

You blinked, her words taking a moment to sink in. "What?" you asked, turning to her, hoping you had misheard.

Natasha's gaze remained fixed on the road, her expression unreadable. "You heard me. If you continue to meddle in things you don't understand, I won't have a choice. You're already in deeper than you should be, and if I have to, 'll make sure you forget everything-all of it."

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. She wasn't bluffing; there was no trace of humor or hyperbole in her voice. The weight of her words, the severity of what she was threatening, settled in your chest like a stone.

You opened your mouth to protest, to argue that she couldn't possibly mean it, but the look on her face when she finally turned to you silenced any retort you might have had.

"I'm not doing this to be cruel" she continued, her voice softer but no less firm. "This world... it's not for you. And if you keep pushing, if you keep putting yourself in situations like tonight, you'll leave me with no other option. I would rather erase your memories than let you become a casualty of a war you're not made for."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and started walking again, leaving you to follow in her wake.

Natasha stopped abruptly, and you nearly bumped into her as she halted in front of a sleek black Corvette. The car gleamed under the dim streetlights; without a word, she pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the doors with a press of a button. The soft click of the locks was the only sound between you as she opened the driver's side door.

"Get in" she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for just a second, taking in the car's imposing presence, before obeying. Sliding into the passenger seat, you felt the cold leather beneath you and glanced around the interior, which was as meticulously maintained as the woman beside you. Natasha climbed in after you, and the door shut with a solid thud. She turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life, purring with restrained power.

"Seatbelt" she reminded you curtly, not looking at you as she adjusted the rearview mirror.

You fumbled for the seatbelt and clicked it into place, the reality of the situation settling in as the Corvette smoothly pulled away from the curb. The streetlights blurred into streaks of gold as she navigated the car through the city with an ease that was both impressive and intimidating.

You could feel the tension simmering, but Natasha kept her focus on the road, her grip on the steering wheel tight. The silence between you was thick, but you knew the conversation from earlier wasn’t over.

“How did you even get into that place? How did you know where to go?” she said, finally breaking the silence, her voice cutting through the stillness with a sharp edge.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I found some documents. Davis’s files. They led me to it.”

Natasha shot you a quick glance, her eyes narrowing. “Documents? What documents?”

“After Davis died, I went through his case files. I found some financial records buried in there—odd donations and money transfers to this club. It didn’t make sense, so I dug a little deeper...and found the tickets in Bowman’s money clip”

Natasha’s expression darkened. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have your number” you said, attempting a small smile, hoping to break the tension.

Natasha’s eyes flicked toward you, her gaze piercing. She didn’t seem amused. “This isn’t a joke” she said coldly. “You’re dealing with things you don’t understand. You had no business going in there alone.”

“I know” you admitted, your voice softer. “But I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. I needed to know what was going on, what Davis had uncovered. And besides, I didn’t know there would be—” you paused, unsure how to even finish the sentence “—vampires. I thought it was just a bar with some shady dealings.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, clearly trying to rein in her frustration. “You could’ve been killed, or worse. Do you realize that? This isn’t a game.”

You nodded, the gravity of her words settling in. “I do now” you said quietly. “But what was I supposed to do? I can’t just ignore it.”

Natasha’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she processed your words. “You should’ve trusted me enough to bring this to me”

“But how was I supposed to do that?” you asked, frustration creeping into your tone. “You swoop in and out of my life without a trace. I didn’t even know how to contact you if I wanted to.”

Natasha was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “You’re right” she admitted, almost grudgingly. “But that’s going to change. From now on, if you find something, anything, you come to me first. No more playing detective on your own.”

You glanced over at her, sensing the shift in her demeanor. She wasn’t just angry; there was something else—something almost protective in the way she spoke, as if she felt responsible for what had happened tonight.

“Okay” you agreed, sensing there was no point in arguing.

You weren’t sure where this left you—whether Natasha would actually include you in whatever came next, or if she’d simply try to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Where are we going now?” you asked after a long pause, trying to shift the conversation away from the tension.

“I'm bringing you home” Natasha stated, her voice carrying a finality that made you sigh in reluctant agreement.

“great” you replied quietly, sinking back into the leather seat.

Natasha remained silent beside you, her eyes fixed on the road, though she occasionally glanced your way, her expression unreadable.

The rhythm of the car, the warmth of the seat, and the overwhelming events of the night soon became too much to fight against. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, until finally, sleep took over.

When you next opened your eyes, you were greeted by the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the window. Natasha’s hand was on your shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle for someone usually so guarded.

“Hey” she said quietly, her voice a low murmur in the quiet car. “We’re here.”

You blinked, disoriented, and slowly sat up, realizing you had fallen asleep. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, rubbing your eyes as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

“It’s fine” Natasha replied, her voice softer than usual. For a brief moment, her gaze lingered on you, and though her face remained stoic, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that almost looked like concern.

The lines of tension in her face softened, and she seemed to pause, as if caught off guard by your vulnerability.

“Come on” she said, her voice a little quieter, as if the sight of you had tempered some of her earlier anger. “Let’s get you inside.”

Nodding, you unbuckled your seatbelt and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool night air. Natasha was already at your side, her presence steady and reassuring, even if she’d never admit it out loud. She walked you to the door, her hand hovering just behind your back as if she were ready to catch you should you stumble.

“Thanks” you mumbled, your voice heavy with the remnants of sleep as you reached for your keys.

Natasha didn’t reply, just watched as you fumbled with the lock. When you finally managed to get the door open, you turned back to her, expecting her to say something—maybe a final warning or a reminder of how reckless you’d been. But she just stood there, her eyes tracing your features with an intensity that made your breath catch.

But then, after a moment of tense silence, she spoke.

“Could you show me those documents?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “The documents?” you echoed, trying to piece together what she was asking. The fog of sleep was still clouding your thoughts, but then it clicked—the files you had found that led you to the club in the first place.

“Yes” Natasha confirmed, her tone firm.

You were still trying to process everything when a voice from the living room called out.

"Look who finally decided to show up!"

You turned to see Kate lounging on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table, a mischievous grin on her face. She was twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, clearly amused.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Kate? what are you doing here?"

Natasha, who had been standing just behind you, raised an eyebrow at the unexpected presence.

"Well, I wanted to surprise you, I’m back!!”

Kate’s grin widened as she eyed Natasha up and down, her expression turning playful. “So, this is why you weren’t answering my calls? You’ve been out with a hottie all night?”

Your face immediately flushed with embarrassment. “Kate, it’s not like that—” you started, but Kate was already on a roll.

“Oh, come on!” she teased, sitting up and leaning forward. “I was beginning to worry you’d been abducted, but now I see you’ve been… occupied.” She winked exaggeratedly.

Natasha’s stoic expression remained unchanged, but you could’ve sworn you saw the tiniest hint of amusement in her eyes. “I see your friend has quite the imagination” she said dryly, glancing at you.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it” you muttered, giving Kate a look that screamed ‘please stop talking’.

But Kate wasn’t done. She stood up and sauntered over, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, are you gonna introduce me? Or do I have to figure out who miss mysterious is all by myself?”

“Kate, this is Natasha,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “Natasha, this is Kate.”

Kate held out her hand, her grin still firmly in place. “Nice to meet you, Natasha”

Natasha took Kate’s hand, her grip firm but polite.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your mortification. “Kate, seriously, it’s not what you think. Natasha was just—”

“Just bringing her home” Natasha cut in, her tone a little more serious now. “We had some business to discuss, and it’s late. I’ll be heading out now.”

Kate looked between the two of you, her teasing expression faltering for a moment. “Oh… okay. Well, don’t let me keep you.” She shot you a look that clearly said ‘we’re going to talk about this later’ .

"ll bring the documents to you" you offered, trying to keep your voice steady. "Tomorrow, when l've had a chance to go through them again."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment you thought she might argue. But then she nodded, though her gaze remained sharp, as if she were measuring your resolve.

"First thing in the morning, I’ll text you" she said, taking a step closer, her presence suddenly more imposing.

“Remember what we talked about” she said, her voice low but firm.

“I will” you promised, feeling the weight of her words.

“Good”

Natasha stepped toward the door, turning back to give you a brief, lingering look. "Good night" she said softly.

As she opened the door, Kate, still lounging on the couch with a teasing grin, couldn’t resist one last quip. "Good night, Natasha”

Natasha paused, her hand on the doorknob, and a small, smile touched her lips. "Good night, Kate."

With that, she nodded once more to you, her gaze lingering just a moment longer, before slipping out the door; once the door clicked shut, Kate turned to you, her eyes wide with excitement. “Okay, spill. Who is she?”

You sighed, flopping down onto the couch. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated, huh?” Kate smirked. “Well, I’m all ears. But seriously, she’s hot. If you don’t go after that, I might.”

You buried your face in a pillow, groaning. “Kate…”

Kate just laughed, flopping down beside you. “Come on, you’ve got to tell me everything. This is way more interesting than anything else I had planned tonight.”

"Kate, it’s not what you think. She’s… just someone helping me with Davis’s cases."

Kate’s grin only widened. "Oh, sure. Helping you with cases” Kate repeated, her tone full of amusement. "You know, I took an early flight to get back here because I thought you might need some company after everything that happened with Davis. But it looks like you’ve already found someone to keep you company."

"You came back early… for me?"

"Of course I did" Kate said, her expression softening for a moment before she switched back to her teasing mode. "But I see I was worried for nothing. I mean, I was expecting to find you all sad and brooding, and instead, I walk in on you and miss mysterious having a moment. Didn’t know you had it in you!"

"Kate!" you exclaimed, feeling your face burn even more. "It’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with this one case. I didn’t even know you were coming back early."

Kate chuckled, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Yeah, well, you’ve been dodging my calls, so I figured I’d better check in on you in person. But I guess I should’ve just stayed out for another night. Maybe then you’d have had the place to yourselves."

You buried your face in your hands, half in embarrassment and half trying to hide your growing smile. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Kate laughed, her tone affectionate. "Hey, what are friends for if not to give you a hard time? But seriously, I’m glad you’re okay. And if this Natasha is really just helping you, then I guess I’ll back off. For now."

You peeked at her from between your fingers, seeing the warmth in her eyes beneath the teasing. "Thanks, Kate. I mean it."

Kate stood up from the couch, her playful grin softening into a more genuine expression as she walked over to you. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, a gesture so familiar and comforting that it made your heart swell with affection.

"You know what we need?" she said, her voice warm and soothing. "A glass of wine. I think we both deserve it."

"That sounds perfect, actually."

"Good" Kate said, patting your shoulder before heading to the kitchen. "You get comfortable. I’ll take care of the wine."

You watched her go, feeling a rush of gratitude for how she always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t. As she moved around the kitchen, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension from the night’s events.

You leaned back into the cushions, letting out a contented sigh. There was still so much you didn’t understand, so much that you needed to figure out.

One final move, you thought to yourself. Just one more step forward, and you’d be closer to uncovering the truth.

But for tonight, that could wait.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The morning sun barely broke through the heavy clouds, casting a muted light over the quiet street as you made your way down the cobblestone path. You glanced at your phone again, double-checking the address Natasha had sent you. It led you here, to this almost deserted street lined with quaint houses that looked as if they had been plucked from a different time. And at the end of it, a small, unassuming church.

You paused in front of the church, its old stone walls covered in ivy. The heavy wooden door seemed out of place compared to the sleek modern buildings you were used to seeing, and for a moment, you hesitated. Why would Natasha want to meet here, of all places? You had expected a dimly lit office or a secluded corner of a café—not a church.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The scent of aged wood and faint incense greeted you, along with the soft echo of your footsteps on the stone floor. The interior was dimly lit by a series of stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the worn pews. It was peaceful, almost too peaceful given the turmoil that had been your life lately.

At the far end, near the altar, you spotted Natasha. She was standing by a tall candle, the flickering flame casting shadows across her face. She looked different here, more at ease, as if this place held some sort of significance for her.

"Morning" you called out softly as you approached, trying to keep your voice from echoing too much in the vast space.

Natasha turned to you, a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips. "Good morning. I see you found the place."

"I did. Are we here to pray for guidance, or is this where you bring all your potential accomplices?"

Natasha chuckled, the sound low and smooth like velvet. "Only the special ones" she replied with a hint of teasing in her voice. "I find it’s easier to talk business when one is reminded of the weight of their choices."

“Never took you for the religious type.” You raised an eyebrow, surprised at her answer.

“I’m not, however I do like to admire the architecture”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And here I thought you just wanted to get me alone in a quiet place."

"Maybe a little of both" she countered with a sly smile, her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling a strange mix of comfort and unease in her presence. There was something about her that made your pulse quicken, but you were careful not to let it show.

"Alright" you said, pulling out the file you had brought with you, flipping it open to the pages that had stood out to you the most.

Natasha’s playful demeanor shifted as she studied the documents you handed her. The change was subtle—just a slight narrowing of her eyes, the tightening of her jaw—but it was enough to remind you that beneath her cool exterior, Natasha was always calculating.

"My company’s been making these huge donations to the club”

Natasha’s eyes flicked over the papers, her expression unreadable. "And you think this is connected to Davis’ murder?"

You nodded. "Yeah. My company’s financials are a mess because of these donations. It’s like we’re bleeding money. If Davis found out about it and confronted Bowman… well, we know how that could’ve ended."

She hummed thoughtfully, her gaze lifting from the papers to meet yours. "It’s possible. But this is circumstantial at best. We need more than this."

You sighed, feeling a bit deflated. "I know. But it’s a start, right?"

Natasha didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she folded the papers back into the file and handed it to you, her fingers brushing yours briefly. The contact sent a spark of something through you—surprise, perhaps, or maybe anticipation. Whatever it was, it made your breath hitch for a split second.

"Right" Natasha said, her tone returning to that cool detachment you had come to expect from her. She started to turn toward the door, but then paused, glancing back at you. "Shall we?"

"Shall we… what?" you asked, momentarily confused.

"Continue this discussion somewhere a bit more comfortable?" she suggested, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Unless you’d rather stay here all day."

"Lead the way."

Natasha led you out of the church and down the street to a small café you hadn’t noticed before. It was quiet, with only a few people scattered around the cozy interior. She chose a table in the back, away from prying eyes, and you both settled in, the atmosphere between you shifting slightly as you sat across from each other.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence, but charged with an undercurrent of something else—something that made your pulse quicken slightly.

"So" you finally said, breaking the silence. "What’s our next move?"

Natasha studied you for a moment, as if trying to decide how much to say. "Well, I need to find out who’s currently handling the club."

"Viktor" you interjected, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop yourself.

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across her usually composed features. "Viktor?" she repeated, her voice edged with caution. "How do you know that name?"

"The woman who tried to make me...volunteer," you began carefully, "she mentioned his name. She said something about him being the boss"

Natasha's expression darkened, her eyes flickering with concern.

A chill ran down your spine at the seriousness in her tone. "Who is he?"

Natasha sighed, glancing away for a moment as if trying to find the right words. "he’s ... an old acquaintance, and one with a very dangerous reputation. He’s been around for a long time, and he’s known for being ruthless and unpredictable. If he’s involved with the club, that complicates things." "I’ll handle Viktor. You just focus on staying safe."

You nodded again, though a part of you bristled at being told to stay out of it.

"Why are you so invested in this? It’s not just about Davis, is it?"

Natasha’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read—pain, maybe, or something deeper. But she quickly masked it, giving you a small, enigmatic smile. "Let’s just say I have my reasons."

"You’re not going to tell me, are you?" you asked, though there was no real bite in your tone. You were starting to realize that Natasha wasn’t the type to reveal her cards too easily. If anything, the more time you spent with her, the more you realized just how much she kept hidden behind that cool, collected exterior.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she regarded you with a hint of amusement. "I've already shared more with you than I usually do with anyone. Consider that a compliment."

“Oh im so honored”

You ordered an almond milk cappuccino, hoping it would shake off the lingering fatigue of the last few days. When the barista turned to Natasha, she simply ordered a black coffee, her voice steady and sure.

“Black coffee?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you raised an eyebrow. “Black as your soul, I take it?”

“It’s straightforward and efficient” she replied, her tone light but with an edge of dry humor. “Much like myself.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “Efficient, huh? I’m not sure if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Oh?” she asked, one elegant brow arching in curiosity. “What word would you use, then?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think hard. “Mysterious? Intimidating? Maybe just a tad bit scary?”

“Scary? I thought you weren’t afraid of me.”

“Who said I was afraid?” you shot back with a laugh. “But seriously, do vampires even need coffee? Or is this just for the sake of blending in with us mortals?”

Natasha took a moment before answering, as if weighing how much she wanted to let you in on. “We can eat and drink, yes” she finally said. “But it doesn’t sustain us the way it does for humans. The taste is there, but it’s... a hollow experience, more for show than necessity.”

You raised your cappuccino to your lips, intrigued. “So you’re saying that while I’m here savoring this” you gestured to your cup, “you’re just pretending to enjoy yours?”

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s not about the coffee. It’s about the company.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, if that’s what it was. Natasha, seeing your reaction, continued with a smirk. “But yes, keeping up appearances is a necessary part of the game. It’s always amusing to see what humans assume.”

“Like how you pretend to be civilized?” you teased, feeling more at ease now that the conversation had taken on this lighter tone.

“Darling, I don’t pretend. I’m more civilized than most humans, I assure you. But,” she added, lifting her coffee cup as if in a toast “it’s entertaining to play along.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “So, let me get this straight. You’re sitting here, drinking a coffee you don’t really need, pretending to be just another customer, while secretly being... well, whatever you are.”

“Correct” she said, with an almost imperceptible nod. “It’s part of the charm, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know…but I guess I have to give you credit for trying.”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving yours. “Trying is for amateurs. I simply excel.”

“And here I was, thinking I could keep up with you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short” Natasha responded, a note of something almost warm in her voice. “You’re doing quite well... for a human.”

You pretended to look offended. “Gee, thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should” she said, “It’s not something I hand out freely.”

“So, what other human habits have you picked up?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. “Do you watch Netflix, too? Maybe do some online shopping?”

“I’m not quite that immersed in human culture. But I’ve learned to navigate it well enough. Though” she added with a sly grin, “I have been watching ‘Sex and the city’ on repeat”

“Now that I didn’t expect.”

“Why not?”

“I guess I just imagined you doing... I don’t know, more vampire-y things?”

“Like lurking in the shadows and feeding on the unsuspecting?” she teased.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say that,” you replied, smiling. “But now that you mention it...”

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. “Humans and their stereotypes.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure you out” you said, lifting your hands in mock defense. “You’re not exactly easy to read, you know.”

“Good, I’d hate to be boring.”

“Boring is definitely not the word I’d use” you muttered, almost to yourself.

Natasha didn’t respond to that, but the slight curve of her lips told you she’d heard it anyway.

You glanced at the clock on your phone, realizing how much time had slipped away while you were engrossed in conversation with Natasha. "Oh, it’s getting late" you said, a hint of urgency in your voice. "I need to get to work."

Natasha followed your gaze to the clock, her expression unreadable. "You’re right" she said, then paused for a moment. "I’ll walk you there."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Natasha was already reaching for the bill. Before you could even think about offering to split it, she’d placed a few crisp bills on the table and stood up.

“I got this” you said, pulling out your card.

Natasha’s hand shot out, gently but firmly pushing yours away. “Nonsense” she said smoothly. “Allow me.”

"I can pay for my own coffee, you know."

Natasha shot you a bemused look. "Not today. Consider it a gesture of goodwill."

You frowned playfully "I don’t need charity. I’m perfectly capable of paying for my own coffee, thank you very much."

Natasha’s laugh was soft but genuine as she held the door open for you. "Oh, I’m sure you are. But let me indulge in this little old-fashioned courtesy."

“Wow, chivalrous too?” you quipped, not entirely succeeding in hiding your surprise.

“I told you, I’m more civilized than most,” she replied, her tone half-serious, half-teasing. “Shall we?”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll owe you one.”

Natasha gave you a pointed look. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t” you shot back, grinning as you followed her out the door. “I like to keep things even.”

The cool air outside was refreshing, and as you both walked down the street, you couldn’t resist asking “So, what’s the deal with you always having to be in control? Can’t even let someone buy you a coffee?”

Natasha glanced sideways at you, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Control is something I’m very fond of. It keeps things... orderly.”

“Orderly, huh? and here I was thinking you liked a little chaos.”

“Only the kind I can manage” she replied smoothly.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You really are something else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told” she said, her tone casual, though her eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"Next thing I know, you’ll be insisting on opening every door for me."

Natasha raised an eyebrow as she fell into step beside you. "Would that be so bad?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. "You know, for someone who claims not to be stuck in the past, you certainly have some old-school tendencies."

"Whatever pleases you" Natasha replied with a playful smirk.

"Are you sure you don't have other important vampire business to attend to?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a half-smile. "Oh, l've cleared my morning schedule just for you. Consider yourself lucky."

"Lucky, huh?" you replied, matching her tone. "I guess I should be flattered."

"It's not every day I offer to walk someone to work. But I figured it would be... interesting to see how you handle yourself in the daylight."

"Is that so?" You glanced over at her, your curiosity piqued. "And how do I measure up so far?"

Natasha gave you a sidelong glance, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You haven't burst into flames yet, so l'd say you're doing alright."

You chuckled, as you continued down the street, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—your favorite places in the city, Natasha’s apparent disdain for modern coffee culture "It’s like they forgot how to make a proper cup of tea" she had grumbled.

"Soo" you began, turning to look at her. "Where exactly do you live? Or is that another one of your big secrets?"

Natasha glanced at you, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Wouldn’t you like to know!?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Come on, you can't keep everything a secret. Give me something."

She seemed to consider this for a moment before responding. "Let's just say l've been around long enough to know how to stay under the radar. I've had many homes over the years, but I'm currently staying somewhere... discreet."

"Discreet, huh?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. "And what does that mean? A gothic mansion with hidden rooms? A castle on a hill?"

Natasha laughed softly. "You’ve got quite the imagination. But no, nothing quite so dramatic”

"That sounds like code for ‘I’m not going to tell you.’"

"Maybe it is" Natasha said with a teasing glint in her eye. "Or maybe I just like keeping you on your toes."

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Fair enough. I suppose I'll just have to keep prying until you slip up."

"Good luck with that"

"What exactly did you tell Kate about me?" You glanced at her, caught off guard by the question. "Oh, I just told her you were helping me with a case" you replied, trying to keep your voice nonchalant.

"Helping you with a case? That’s all?"

You nodded, feeling a bit defensive under her gaze. "Yeah, that’s all. I didn’t see the need to go into details. She was just... curious, that’s all."

"Curious?" Natasha repeated, her smirk growing. "Is that what she calls it?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "She’s just looking out for me"

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. "I suppose that’s understandable…It’s better she doesn’t know too much. For her own sake."

"Don't worry" you said, smiling to yourself. "I'm not about to go telling her you're a vampire or anything."

"That would certainly complicate things."

"Yeah, and I don't think she'd handle that very well."

"You're more perceptive than I gave you credit for."

"Well, I have my moments." You shrugged, trying to play it cool. You sighed softly, glancing up at the sky as you walked. "I’m starting to realize that there are a lot of things people are better off not knowing."

As you approached your office building, the conversation naturally began to wind down. Natasha stopped with you at the entrance, her expression softening slightly as she turned to you.

“Now, go on. You have a mundane life to get back to."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you turned to the door. "Thanks for the walk, Natasha. And for the coffee, even though I could've paid for it myself."

"Anytime" she said smoothly, watching as you pushed open the door. "And do try to stay out of trouble. I'd hate to have to come rescue you again."

You shot her a playful glare over your shoulder. "I'll do my best."

She glanced at you, her smirk returning. "And remember, if Kate asks—"

"Got it." you interrupted with a grin.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You were never an obsessive person

Well, you were the kind of person who could buy a tub of ice cream, eat a few spoonfuls, and then shove it back into the freezer like it was no big deal. You could binge-watch an entire season of a show, and when it ended on a cliffhanger, you’d just shrug and say, “Eh, I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

Feelings? Those were something you kept neatly folded in a drawer, to be pulled out and dealt with when absolutely necessary, like taxes or dentist appointments.

You’d prided yourself on being laid-back, easygoing—a “no big deal” kind of person. Emotions, drama, obsession? Those were for people who cried at movie trailers or checked their phones every five seconds to see if someone had texted back. Not you. You were cool, calm, collected. You were the master of brushing things off.

But then Natasha walked into your life like a rogue wave crashing against the shore, and suddenly, you were the person checking your phone every five seconds. You were the person who couldn’t focus on anything because your mind kept drifting back to the same pair of emerald eyes.

It was ridiculous, really. You’d gone from being the kind of person who could forget about an unopened package for weeks to someone who couldn’t go an hour without wondering what Natasha was doing, where she was, or why she hadn’t texted.

And it wasn’t just a simple curiosity. No, this was a full-blown, brain-consuming obsession that you never saw coming. You’d gone from “I can totally handle this” to “I’m not handling this at all” faster than you could say, “I’m not a crazy person.”

Which, of course, you weren’t. Crazy people did things like show up at someone’s house uninvited, or write their names together in a heart in their notebooks, or Google the appropriate number of hours to wait before texting someone back to avoid looking desperate.

You, on the other hand, were just… interested. Curious, maybe. Concerned, even.

Okay, fine, you were totally obsessing. But only a little. A healthy amount.

Right?

Days had drifted by since you last saw Natasha, but her presence lingered like a shadow. Each morning, you’d reach for your phone, hoping for a message, something to anchor you to her, but there was nothing. Just silence.

You and Kate were sitting at a quaint little café near your office, but you were only half-listening to whatever she was saying.

Kate’s laughter broke through your thoughts, and you looked up, startled. She was watching you with a knowing grin, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Okay, spill it.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What?”

Kate rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “You’ve been staring off into space for the last ten minutes, and trust me, I’ve been talking about some pretty juicy stuff. So, what’s distracting you? A certain redhead, maybe?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked down at your coffee. “It’s not like that, Kate”

“Uh-huh” she replied, her voice dripping with disbelief. “So, you’re telling me you’ve just been zoning out for fun? Come on, you’ve got that look.”

“What look?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice betrayed you.

“The look that says you’ve got a massive crush and you’re trying not to admit it” Kate teased, leaning forward with a wicked grin.

You sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. “Its…complicated.”

“Complicated?” Kate echoed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so complicated about her? Is she married? got kids?”

You nearly choked on your coffee at that last word, but Kate was laughing, clearly enjoying herself. “Kate, stop” you said, trying to sound stern, but it only made her laugh harder.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I embarrassing you?” she asked, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s just, I haven’t seen you like this in… well, EVER. I mean, who knew you had a thing for redheads?”

“I don’t!”

“Sure, sure” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “So, what did you tell her about me? That I’m your incredibly charming best friend who’s been trying to drag you out of your funk?”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Nope. You didn’t come up.”

"Ouch," Kate said, clutching her chest dramatically. "You wound me."

"Yeah, yeah”

Kate pouted playfully. “Wow, that hurts. Here I am, being the best wingwoman you could ask for, and you don’t even brag about me? What kind of friend are you?”

“The kind who appreciates you, even if you’re a pain”

“A pain? Me?” Kate gasped, pretending to be offended. “I’m a delight, thank you very much.”

“You keep telling yourself that”

“Look, I’m just saying, if this Natasha woman’s got you all worked up, maybe there’s something there. And maybe… just maybe…you should go for it.”

The idea sent a flutter of nerves through you, but you pushed it aside. “It’s not that simple, Kate. There’s… a lot I don’t know about her.”

“Well, when you figure it out, you know where to find me. Just don’t keep me in the dark, okay? I need details. All the juicy ones.”

“Yeah”

“Ugh, I don’t know what’s going on with this Natasha chick, but whatever it is, don’t let it eat you up. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nodded, grateful for her support, even if you couldn’t explain everything. “Yeah, thanks, Kate.”

She gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “No problem. Just don’t forget, you’ve got me in your corner. And if she’s giving you trouble, I’ll take her down. Or, at the very least, I’ll make you laugh about it.”

You chuckled, grateful for her support, even if it came with a side of relentless teasing.

You didn’t answer, but the truth was, you were dying to know more about Natasha too. Who was she, really? And why did it feel like she was slipping through your fingers?

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

99 notes · View notes

mercymaker · 3 months

Text

RUIN - Astarion x Tav fic

A little treat i wrote inspired by a prompt from this list.

Rating: E

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Word count: 2,6k

Content: smut, established relationship, post-game, drow tav, mutual masturbation, sex, blood drinking.

Summary: Astarion wants to see his lover touch herself for him as he does the same. It's no surprise, however, when one thing leads to another, and soon both of them are melting in each other's embrace.

Link to AO3.

They both sat at the opposite ends: Maleane’s back was pressed against the intricately-carved headboard, while Astarion lounged on a pile of burgundy-colored pillows at the foot of the bed. He had instructed the drow to undress just mere minutes ago, in response to her less-than-subtle attempt to drag him back into the bed. It wasn’t common for her to initiate things of such nature, and so, Astarion used this as an opportunity to try something that had been slithering in his mind for days. He wanted to watch her pleasure herself as he did the same, to be parted only by some magic mirror that was reflecting the depraved lust they felt for each other.

As soon as the loose blouse she’d wear to bed joined the set of underwear carelessly tossed on the floor, the vampire spawn motioned for her to begin.

“Go on, darling,” Astarion purred, lazily undoing the lacing of his breeches as he settled comfortably atop the sheets.

His lover followed the command, parting her legs as she smirked, eager to give him a show that he’d been so desperate to receive. In line with his own ever-teasing pace, Maleane moved with deliberate sluggishness, her fingers slowly gliding down her abdomen, as if time was a currency she had no trouble wasting. Yet, it was desire that was moving her hand down to where her thighs met, and as much as she enjoyed teasing Astarion, she wanted to relieve the hunger nestling at the bottom of her belly, feel the pressure on the parts that craved nothing but touch. Seeing her lover pull his cock out his pants was all the encouragement she needed to start touching herself.

“Mmm, that’s more like it.”

His voice felt like velvet around her already hazy mind, and it only deepened the craving to be touched, and felt, and tasted. Mal closed her eyes, focusing on that sensation, allowing her mind to wander freely in the maze of lustful longing. And as her fingers parted her lips, the sorcerer let out a shaky breath that made Astarion’s core tighten.

He watched her carefully, eyes shifting between the soft movements of Maleane’s hand and her face, yet soon a different source of disturbance caught his eye. The drow’s other hand shifted to her chest, soon sinking into the soft flesh of her breast as she fondled herself, tips of her fingers finding the sensitive nub at the top and squeezing gently. That sight was enough to move the vampire’s hips. Astarion didn’t hesitate to wrap his own digits around himself, slowly stroking the length in tandem with his lover’s gentle actions. And when she slipped two fingers inside, he bit his lip in response, fighting the temptation to pounce at her.

“Gods, you’re almost impossible to resist, you know that?” Astarion’s voice was soft, low, wrapped in a ribbon of a whisper. “Every fiber in my body screams to take you, taste you, ruin you.”

Those words rolling out of her lover’s mouth were like an aphrodisiac to Mal. She closed her eyes again and let her imagination guide her hands, conjuring up all those delicious memories from the times that he’d fucked her before.

“Don’t stop talking, please.” It was almost a whimper, how sudden and desperate the sentence sounded as it spilled out between her lips.

And all it did was made the spawn smirk. He knew just how much she loved hearing him spew absolute filth, pulling her into his most depraved fantasies with ease, and what sort of lover would Astarion be if he did not occasionally indulge her?

“My, my, you want me to confess all of my depravities just like that?”

As much as Maleane enjoyed hearing the pale elf detail his many fantasies, Astarion loved teasing her just a little bit more. There was something almost intoxicating about taking the drow on a journey, watching how her body responded to his words, the vivid pictures that he’d been painting in thick brushstrokes dripping only sin.

“You want me to tell you all the things I’d do to you, hm?” Astarion was deliberate in the slow pace he was setting. He wished to build anticipation, to feed her morsel by morsel, until she was a shaking mess, ready to unravel in front of him.

Hearing his words, Maleane opened her eyes and, for a brief moment, she could only focus on his hand lazily working his erection. The sight alone made the walls around her fingers tighten momentarily as pleasure shot up her core, sending a breathy whine up her throat.

“Yes,” the sorcerer pleaded, her fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her breast with more hunger than before, “please...”

It was more than obvious that she was growing desperate for more stimulation, any sort of help that would take her just a notch closer to the ever-desired ledge of a climax. And yet, no matter how fast she moved her fingers between her folds, it just wasn’t enough to grow the budding tendrils of pleasure slowly creeping down her tummy.

“I do enjoy hearing that word coming out of your mouth, darling.”

As playful as the vampire spawn wanted to be, his teasing seemed to only hinder whatever journey he’d set his partner on by requesting her to undress and touch herself in the first place. And just like that, Maleane was getting frustrated, chasing a loose thread of pleasure that kept slipping out of her reach with every move. And soon, it was all the sorcerer could focus on.

“I can’t… I can’t fucking do this,” she spat out angrily, unsure whether her irritation was aimed at Astarion or herself.

All it took was a single stray thought, a jab at her pride, a notion that he would make her beg for something that he himself wanted to see, and all the buildup was melting away faster than the wax candles illuminating their room. Mal pulled her hands away from herself, instead leaning back into the headboard of the bed in a frustrated thud.

She was angry at herself, at how easily distracted she was in moments like this, at the ever-brewing chaos of her own thoughts that made disconnecting from all the anxiety and stress a gargantuan task. And above it all, it was her own inexperience, the inescapable maze that was her body and the fact that she struggled to find what truly gave her relief.

Witnessing his lover’s turmoil, Astarion quickly rose from his nest of pillows, closing the distance between them in what felt like a single heartbeat. She was such a fickle thing at times, but—in an odd way—the spawn enjoyed the challenge.

“Mal, darling, look at me,” he whispered as his hand cupped her cheek, lifting the drow’s face up in an attempt to bring back the connection that they’d shared just moments ago.

He could see that thread of arousal slipping outside the perimeter of their bed, but he’d be a rather poor rogue if he wasn’t able to catch it and pull the fabric back together before it was lost for the night. So, instead of wasting the precious seconds yapping about—no matter how seductive his voice sounded—the spawn leaned forward and kissed her with enough passion to ignite a pile of ash.

He pried her lips open with his tongue, slithering inside her mouth like a snake, tasting the sweetness and the warmth within. And when Maleane responded to his kiss with a soft moan, he knew that any doubts or frustrations that had previously threatened to undo all of their work, were—once again—replaced by desire.

“Let me do it,” Astarion finally uttered, parting their lips just enough to be able to speak, “let me ruin you, my love.”

Her mouth reached for his before the spawn even finished talking, desperate to reunite, to taste the lust and the hunger sitting at the tip of his tongue once more. And as they resumed the passionate kiss, Maleane’s hands reached for his body, one grasping his jaw with enough yearning to chafe the skin, while the other sunk into the soft tangle of his white curls, both pushing him closer to her.

“Yes... please,” she repeated those same words once again, her voice desperate and breathless. “Please...”

And just like that, as quickly as her arousal had slipped before, it returned, this time a thousandfold and more obvious than ever.

It was intoxicating—her warmth, her taste, the soft little sounds coming out of Mal’s throat in response to his touch—and soon Astarion felt his own head grow dizzy from the desire to lose himself in her. He touched Maleane, fingers hungrily digging into the soft flesh of her bottom, mapping every single inch of the drow’s skin as if he were a blind man desperately tracing the pages of a book.

As soon as the vampire’s fingers reached the delicate folds nestling between her legs, Mal shuddered, hot air slipping out of her open mouth, warming his own in turn.

“Please,” the sorcerer repeated the word, yet again, closing her eyes as the last remaining traces of stiffness and control melted away from her body.

It was no lie when he told her how much he loved the sound of her voice behind that word, yet Astarion did not expect it to drive him this crazy. Like a primal urge, he felt the need to pin her down and take her, bite into her, relieve that craving scratching at his insides and pooling between his thighs.

All those years of masking and restraint meant nothing when faced with something this raw, this real.

Maleane was warm and alive and entirely his. That thought was enough to completely enrapture him.

He followed the sinful craving, swiftly pushing his fingers into her warmth with ease, making Mal squirm under him as pleasure tingled through every part that he touched. And she was so deliciously wet, that for just a moment it was all the spawn could think of.

“Gods…” Astarion exhaled the word, his mind growing foggy from arousal.

Instead of fighting the surge of lust, the vampire leaned into it, leaving all those trained responses to compose himself and perform behind. He wished to taste her, feel her, replace his fingers with his cock and let her heat envelop him. He wanted to let go of all the thoughts just as much as his lover wished to abandon hers.

For just a mere second, Astarion pulled back—lips blushed and wet from all the hungry kisses—finding Mal’s face as she panted, desperately trying to catch her breath after smooching a man who had no use of breathing. The drow looked back at him, those pale purple eyes begging wordlessly. Maleane didn’t need to say anything, he knew exactly what words were hanging at the tip of her tongue.

Ruin me. Please.

And so the spawn did—pulling her hips towards him as he moved back—giving Maleane enough space to get as comfortable as the short space of time allowed, before he plunged himself inside her, making her gasp in response.

Astarion watched her—the way her fingers grasped at the sheets, the way her breasts moved atop her rib cage, the way her wet mouth opened to allow the most succulent moans to escape her throat—as he fucked her with increasing greed. And yet, no matter how satisfying just plowing into his lover was, it seemed like the frenzied rolling of his hips was only increasing the pale elf’s appetite.

The spawn pushed her sweat-lined thighs even further apart as he leaned forward and into her, one hand gripping Maleane’s jaw as he kissed her open lips, tongue slipping inside her mouth like a slimy eel. He licked and he sucked and he nibbled on Maleane’s flushed lips and she—utterly lost in the lustful maze of pleasure—responded in turn, lifting her head off the burgundy pillow to push her face into his.

As her warmth seeped into his own tepid skin, Astarion couldn’t resist the temptation to take more, swiftly shifting his attention—as well as his lips—to her neck, greedily tracing a line down her gray throat with his tongue. And his hands were just as ravenous, fingers soon gripping the tender flesh of her breasts as his whole body sank into hers, pressing the drow against the silky sheets underneath. It was suffocating in the best way possible, all the sensations pulling Maleane deeper and deeper into the engulfing sea of ecstasy.

She grasped her lover with the same amount of desperation, one hand digging into his back while the other found its place in the damp mess of his white curls. It wasn’t long before Mal felt his teeth softly pressing into her collarbone—one spot, then the other—in what could only be perceived as a silent, yet urgent request to taste more.

“Yes, yes,” the drow uttered with need, a hint of pleading not lost behind her tone.

Maleane craved the sharp pang of his fangs piercing her skin and wished to melt into the bliss she knew would follow. And when he bit into the firm muscle of her shoulder, Astarion felt her walls tighten around his length in a telltale sign of the incoming climax.

He drank—hungrily, greedily—tasting the rich blood on his tongue as if he was a man dying of thirst, letting the ruby liquid unfold inside him like a scroll hiding all of her secrets. Soon, the vampire felt all the pleasure coursing through Maleane’s body as it mixed with his own desire in the most delicious combination two bodies melting into one another could produce.

And she—in turn—could feel his own approaching peak that only enhanced the wave of her pleasure and within seconds, Mal was shaking under him like an aspen leaf.

“Oh, gods, oh, Ast- Astarion.” Maleane’s voice was half a cry and half a moan: whispery, desperate, and almost broken.

He held her close as she unraveled underneath him, as her lifeblood gushed into his mouth, as her nails dug into his back. And in that moment, it was as if they became one—with her essence coursing through his veins, igniting every inch of his undead body.

All it took was a single heartbeat, a deep thrust into her dripping cunt, and the vampire spawn came undone, burying his face in the crook of Maleane’s neck as he filled her with his seed.

They lay there for a moment—hands glued to each other’s skin—allowing their bodies to recover from the height of the intensity that they’d pushed each other to.

Astarion savored the traces of Mal’s blood still sitting on his tongue, the heat radiating off her body, the soothing rise of her chest as she inhaled, again and again. And the drow found comfort in the weight of her lover’s body atop hers, the still-lingering tingle slowly pulsing through her core, the soft numbness in her muscles.

It was euphoric, in a diluted, warm, and comforting way.

“Well,” Astarion spoke after a minute, “that is certainly something I would consider a proper ruination.”

When Maleane opened her eyes she saw the vampire looking back at her, with a half-lidded stare and a smug grin stretched across his pale lips. At times she couldn’t decide if she loved or hated the way he would switch from sincere, genuine moments to something cocky and nonchalant. This time, it seemed like a fair exchange, however, especially as it made her chuckle at his words.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Mal responded, trying her best not feed his ego any more than it needed.

Her fingers combed through the mop of Astarion’s curls, lingering on the back of his head for just a moment, before Maleane gently pushed him to the side.

“Now, if you’d excuse me, I’d like to clean up the ‘ruin’ between my legs,” she added, trying to hold back her laughter.

106 notes · View notes

nectar-cellar · 4 months

Text

the red velvet lounge was completely dead 🙄 yeah it definitely needed some baddies to liven up the place.

pauline: don't you think the decor is kinda, like, dated?

tamara: why would you have a vampire-themed bar in a town with no vampires?

bartender: listen i just work here ok

#ts3 #the sims 3

77 notes · View notes

waterdeep-weavemoss · 2 months

Text

Elven Poetry

For @crimson-and-lavender 💜 Astarion x Tav. A little bit of cuteness.

Tav walked into the Elfsong tavern and hobbled up to the party’s rented rooms. Astarion lounged on one of the red velvet sofas, long legs stretched out on a footrest, ankles crossed. He was engrossed in a book. Nobody else was here; Minsc, Halsin and Jaheira were at her home gathering supplies, Shadowheart and Gale had wandered off to Sorcerous Sundries with Wyll, and Karlach had insisted on visiting the tiefling refugees. Lae’zel was gods knew where, probably trying to sniff out any gith in the city. Tav was exhausted; her feet ached, her shoulders were sore, and all she wanted to do was soak in a hot bath. But Astarion was here. It would have to wait.

‘Hello, my sweet,’ he said, lifting a hand and throwing her a small smile. He paused, eyes narrowing as he examined her. ‘You’re in pain.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said. She was leaning a little heavily on her cane, true, but other than that she felt as she always did. The heat and tenderness was simply part of her.

‘No,’ he said, raising a brow at her. ‘What do you need?’

She dithered on the spot, cheeks going pink. ‘Well, usually I’d take a bath…’

‘Fine,’ he said, holding out his book. ‘Read to me while I run it for you.’

‘What?’ She set the cane against the wall and hobbled over, taking the hand he offered her for balance.

‘I’m reading this utterly insane fellow,’ he said with a conspiratorial smile, ‘from another dimension. He thinks vampires are real, can you believe?’ He winked, sweeping across the room to fill the bath.

‘I can’t bathe in front of you.’

‘Oh darling don’t be absurd. I’ve seen thousands of bodies in my time, do you really think I care what you look like with your clothes off? Not that I’d say no to you of course. I have taste.’

‘Oh, stop,’ she said. Her eyes scanned the book. ‘Hang on. Is this poetry?’

‘Hm? Yes of course. Now read some to me, damn you.’

She raised her brows in surprise and began to read, putting as much passion into it as she could. Astarion busied himself with drawing the bath but was clearly listening intently, because when she paused nervously he picked it up from memory, the words falling in a silken ribbon of language off his tongue. As she held the book, he moved behind her in a silent question. She nodded, breath catching a little on the words as he unlaced her armour, plucking the book from her hands so she could divest herself entirely.

‘At the baring of body like winter trees,’ Astarion purred, ‘the sun averts his warming eye, dimming the sky to please his lonely love, gentle as a dove.’

Tav sank into the hot water, watching the vampire close his eyes and lose himself in the wash of words. Her pain began to ease, and only more so when he whispered a curative spell in the guise of poetry. He moved to her, gently soaped her hair and massaged her scalp, all the while reciting. She closed her eyes, feeling more content than she had perhaps ever.

When she was clean, Astarion helped her from the water and bid her sit by the fire, on the floor. She perched on a cushion, and he sat behind her on a velvet chair, so she was nestled between his knees. He combed her hair with soft attentive hands, pulling it into a gentle braid. ‘There you go,’ he murmured finally.

‘You read beautifully.’

‘So do you,’ he said, kissing her temple. ‘We must do this again, love.’

Tags:

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@netherese0rb @crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

#astarion x tav #mine

42 notes · View notes

hangesdarling · 6 months

Note

Request for a oneshot of Hange who gets really horny and flustered from their vampire fem s/o feeding from them. Thanks 🥰!

a crimson kiss — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You were a vampire lurking in the dark streets when you met Hange. CONTENT. a bit of slow burn to build their relationship, very suggestive, blood, biting, implied sex, light angst, open-ended hehe WORD COUNT. 2.6k A/N. fic request from @malorey-ethster :D this reminds me a lot of the vampire!hange series lingering in my head omggg

Dark shadows loomed over the village, making the darkest shade of black among the streets. People feared the night when criminals and monsters lurked as what rumors in the streets have told tales about. But as you stood perfectly still on a deserted alleyway among the darkness, you saw this strange being walking slowly, book in hand while the other held a small lamp.

People don't walk the streets late this hour but then again, this one is different. The perfect prey, too distracted by a book to think that you're standing still right across from them. Your claws clenched against your skirt, and the taste of blood from your previous meal still lingered, only prompting your hunger to take action.

You were about to pounce in that person's direction, trying to swallow your regret for another life lost in your hands but you felt a blinding light crossing past your eyes, making you retract from your stance.

Your arm shielded your eyes as the yellow glow of the lamp illuminated your face in the darkness.

"Oh, there you are," you heard the person mutter, a smile creeping across their face at the sight of you. But before you could run and disappear in the darkness once more, you felt a pair of arms restraining you.

The coach you were riding on had its small curtains drawn as you rode into the early dawn. You silently thanked how the velvet, embroidered fabric was thick enough to cover whatever sliver of sunlight began to creep in the sky. You tightened the thick shoal wrapped around you despite your bound wrists. This person who told you their name right after abducting you helped to fix your shoal so only a portion of your face could be seen. Hange.

"Sorry about tying you up like that," they muttered, almost apologetic as they offered you a smile. "But I won't hurt you, I promise. I was just tasked to investigate, that's all."

When the coach halted, Hange pulled you outside in wary carefulness, not letting the sun damage you. You found yourself in what seemed to be a library with a few laboratory materials, perhaps Hange's room.

Their table was strewn with sketches, and several stacks of reports detailing your nightly appearances and words from witnesses. It was clear that Hange had enough knowledge of all the forms you could take and even your whereabouts even before they crossed that alleyway last night.

In the days that followed, Hange fed and observed you, wondering to themself why you always requested animal blood even when it wasn't well-suited to satisfy your hunger. You tried to scare them off with a cold, obscure persona but nothing seemed to deter them even after your several attempts to bite their nose off.

Hange believed you would eventually soften up, earning your trust by encouraging you to talk without coercion. And even when you're trying hard enough not to yield, you find your mouth running, detailing what went before you became a heinous creature up to this day. Hange succeeded in pulling the words out of your mouth, even ones that you wouldn't want a soul to hear. Their presence felt like a dewy morning, a light breeze eager to get to know you out of pure curiosity.

"Ah, to think that there are more fascinating things than titans," Hange would smile at you, trusting you enough this time to untie your wrists. "Let's be friends, Y/N."

During the following days, Hange lets you lounge on their bed, keeping you comfortable as you lie down under their thick blankets. They don't sleep much themself as you have observed, maybe taking a few hours to sleep at their desk during the night and that was it. After a week of being together, you found them to be a heavy sleeper and took that advantage to carry them back to bed. You stared outside the window for the rest of that night, measuring how easy it would be to try and escape from this floor but decided against it. After all, only danger awaits you outside. If the townsfolk won't burn you at the stake, they would tear you apart bit by bit. Leaving you under the sun would be the least harsh punishment.

Hange was alerted the moment you disappeared from the bed, looking everywhere for you and thinking you might have escaped but they silently chucked to themself when they found you curled under their bed among the darkness. Hange crawled next to you despite the dusty floorboards.

"You seem a lot more comfortable in the darkness, huh?" they asked, tapping the underside of the bed frame and pulling away some webs from it. "We'll get this cleaned up if you like."

"Hm, thank you..." you mumbled.

Hange had gotten to know you better from then on. Physical contact became less strange as you let Hange touch your cold hands or felt the lack of pulse on your neck. A living dead creature. And even then as you lack the properties of a human, Hange never failed to make the space safe for you. They let you hug them at night, even if their warmth cannot meet yours, and let you hold their hand despite your insusceptibility to coldness. Every day, Hange brings a variation of animal blood to know what you like best. All felt like cold and tasteless cream crawling down your throat but you prefer them, knowing that your hunger wasn't hurting people anymore.

One night, Hange handed you a cup of blood, a shade darker than what they always give you. Your keen eye found the bandage poking beneath their shirt.

"Hange, is this your blood?"

"Uh, well, it is. I do think it's better if you drink directly from me but your insistence on drinking animal blood may cause a bit of shock to your system when you drink human blood again so try sipping from it first," Hange responded.

When you tilted the cup to your lips, it was cold but a sudden taste burst in your mouth, a hint of sweetness permeating the usual buttery taste of human blood. It has never been sweet before so what made it different now?

You told Hange how it tasted, quite in detail, and used several comparisons to help their research. However, the subtle smile and blush on their face couldn't escape your eyes. Maybe it was their excitement from the new information, but it's undeniable that there is something else.

Whenever night falls, your body does not crave long hours of sleep so you spend the night staring outside, counting people on the streets, or perhaps judging who the weakest prey may be just from their stance. But that night, Hange wanted to sit with you by the window, trading their few hours of sleep to be with you for longer. Your budding relationship came slow and subtle, the way midnight shifts to dawn to let the rosy rays of the sun appear in the sky once more. The hugs, the touch, the comfort within each other. Vampires cannot love humans this way but so are other things people tried to set rules upon. The peculiar cannot love or marry, forced to stay in the shadows and linger in their loneliness.

But even living organisms without consciousness like plants still sought companionship, you know, Hange told you one time, flipping through a book showing symbiotic relationships among living organisms. One has a better chance of survival with the other so it's only right for them to be together, right?

Hange leaned on your shoulder as they read by the moonlight. Your eyes followed the words and illustrations closed, exchanging a smile of two with them before trying to resist the urge to kiss them. Hange's rapid heartbeats near you only amplified that temptation as you turned away slightly. Hange may not have your keen sense, or hear a heartbeat and feel human warmth from you but their sharp intuition cannot deny what you both felt at that moment. Hange dropped their book by the side before turning you to face them in a soft, gentle kiss. Their warm lips linked with your cold ones and yet you found yourself pulling closer, as the companionship you desired all those years ago materialized before you. Hange kept a trail of kisses on your neck, pulling you towards the bed until you both collapsed on the soft mattress.

The curtains fluttered close as the wind outside calmed, little by little the moonlight could only bleed through an inch in that window. The flame on Hange's lamp by the table slowly extinguished but Hange kept kissing you in the darkness. Every touch, every time their fingers gripped yours against the mattress was a proclamation of the affection you've both tried to ignore. Both your worlds felt so distant but even if Hange could taste the blood from your mouth, they never wanted this kiss to end any sooner.

Hange had you spooned in their arms for the rest of the morning as they slept soundly against your neck. You wiped the blood beading on their lower lip from last night when your kisses got too passionate. Hange didn't mind and only laughed off their wounded lip, teasing you that it made them look more appealing in your eyes. You watched a drop of their blood dissipate through your finger, creating an intricate maroon pattern against your skin. You could taste that familiar hint of sweetness even as you brought it to your lips. And when you kissed Hange's lips, you felt their blood grazing your mouth, your tongue gently licking their wound until the bleeding stopped. Their blood tasted like a thin sheen of sweetened butter coating your mouth. However, the sweet taste only brought upon the bitter memories of your past. Of the human blood dripping from your chin as a victim lay lifeless on your lap, the sound of their diminishing heartbeat against your ear, and their last scream of help before becoming the food to satisfy your hunger.

You pulled away from their lips before they could even wake up, situating yourself to their chest so you wouldn't see their bloodied lip. You wrapped your arms tightly against their body, ear pressed to their bare chest where you could hear the rhythmic sound of the heartbeat you came to love.

"Y/N, why don't you feed from me this time?"

Hange's question broke the silence sitting between the two of you. Their eyes remained contemplative, bored through the wooden ceiling of their room.

"Why would you want that?" you asked cautiously.

Hange turned to give you a small smile. "I just noticed that you look healthier when you drink human blood. Your cheeks weren't so pale and you seemed a lot energized. It's your natural food after all so you don't have to insist on drinking animal blood."

Your mind wanted to protest, but all the reasons you shouldn't feed from them were stuck in your throat.

"But I don't want to hurt you..." you mumbled.

Hange tilted your chin so you could look at their reassuring face once more. "Come on, dear. You won't hurt me. It takes a few liters before a human could die from blood loss. If we regulate this properly, I won't die."

Their offer sounded tempting, after all, you were in a considerably better state after ingesting their blood. Almost like you have regained twofold of your strength from their blood alone.

Hange was overjoyed when you finally agreed, they pulled you into their lap before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. Hange's face was flushed when you began licking the spot on their neck you wanted to puncture with your teeth. Your mouth gently nibbled on their neck, leaving shallow bite marks that blossomed pink on their neck. Their hands roamed around your body, rubbing your thighs under that skirt until they wandered under your shirt.

You moaned softly against their neck with the way Hange was tugging on your clothes as if in permission to take them off.

"You're enjoying this a lot, Hange," you smiled as you helped them by unbuttoning your shirt. Hange groaned as you gave their neck another playful bite enough to turn them on even more.

"You bet I do," they chuckled, their voice shifting into a sultry tone as they brought both your bodies closer to the headboard. Hange leaned their head back, poising their neck where you could feed from them properly.

Your tongue glided along their reddening bitemarks, grazing your teeth to that particular spot before slowly digging in. Hange winced as they felt the puncture through their skin, their blood pooling on your mouth even before it dripped down their chest. Hange gripped your hips tightly, snaking down your rear to squeeze the flesh as your teeth dug in even more. Curses and praises spilled from their lips, suppressing an occasional moan or two as their hands were filled with the flesh of your bottom. Your tongue lapped desperately against the sweet buttery taste of their blood, the crimson gliding in thick gulps against your throat. Hange only pushed your head further into their angled neck as an encouragement, their every moan telling you how aroused they felt.

When you drank enough, your bloodied lips kissed their wound, patching it up with a cloth to staunch the bleeding. Hange captured your lips on theirs, their slender fingers wrapping gently around your throat. They could taste iron in your mouth, intoxicated and lightheaded from the blood you fed from them. Hange sucked on your plump lip, flipping you over onto your back before sliding their tongue in to lick along yours. As your kisses grew passionate, both your lips turned a crimson shade.

Hange stripped off the rest of your clothing, enraptured by your lips against theirs, and of the healthy color appearing in your cheeks. They wanted a taste of you, to return the bliss you gave them.

Hange's notes lay ignored by the bedside, discarded somewhere else along the pile of your clothes and theirs. Your intimacy was bloodied, full of bites and traces of drying blood after you finished. But you could care less about the thin sheen of blood coating your breasts or thighs as your lips rested on Hange's for the final time before they collapsed in exhaustion in your arms. The warm, bubbly bath you soon had washed away all the crimson and pinkish traces on both of your skins. You washed and nursed their wound, enclosing the fresh bite in a soft and dry bandage.

Hange slept on your chest until evening, perhaps tired from the ordeal. But as you stroked their hair's brown locks into neat strands, you remembered that familiar hunger coming in occasional visits, one that was never satisfied until the prey was lifeless. But Hange was never your prey, and you never wanted to be the monster to end them. You placed a long kiss on their forehead, gaze lingering on their sleeping form for a few seconds before pulling away to sit up on the bed.

The idea of departing from this place tarried your mind ever since you discovered the taste of Hange's blood. I trust you, Hange said multiple times, and yet you could never trust yourself to that extent. After all, you were still a monster of the night, even if you wore a human appearance. No matter how much Hange loved and cherished you like a breathing, living being deserving of good things, you couldn't keep them forever. You never wanted to subject them to this cursed life of aimless wandering and feeding on humans to save yourself.

You held Hange's hand around yours, cold diminishing against their warmth as you began to think and decide before the sun rose once again.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

68 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Note

The idea of a yandere vampire who uses you as a bloodbag yes but also a screen of normalcy in between polite society, he dresses you up as finely as he sees fit, instructing you when and where to touch them, what titles to use with who, making you vouch for their innocence, and little by little merely through habit you become used to it, no longer needing their guidance, maybe one day youll learn to love them the way they want you to

tw - imprisonment, mentions of blood/death, unbalanced power dynamics.

i mean, it can get a little hard to keep up with the outside world when you're an unaging being, prone to locking yourself in an isolated mansion for decades at a time and fond of picking off lost mortals who stray too far into the forest. you're their newest ambassador; a walking, talking blood bag they keep only nearly empty in exchange for acting as a buffer between them and modernity. they don't ask you to do a lot - stay by their side as they venture into cities more populated than they've ever seen before, show them how to use the newest type of phone (it'll take a while, they don't really get the whole 'cordless' thing), do your best to bear with the peculiarities of a creature with infinite time and infinite funding and attention that can be stolen away by the sound of your pulse beating just underneath your flesh, just within reach of their pointed fangs.

hang off their arms as they visit with old friends who came out of hiding a few years sooner, throw your legs across their lap as they watch the patrons of a velvet-coated restaurant with a sort of predatory curiosity, try to brush it off as the quirks of an eccentric captor when they stop asking you what they should wear to better blend-in and start introducing new articles to your wardrobe, ruby-studded rings and silver hairclips and lace chockers that cling to your throat like a second skin. believe their sweetened lies about a death that will come quick and painlessly, as soon as they've learned all they need to know from you, and try not to struggle in a way they won't like when they bury their face in the crook of your neck in the back of a dimly lit lounge, when they bare their fangs in public and leave it to their precious little envoy to hide their gluttony. maybe, if you're lucky, they'll be kind enough to drop the act before they go back into hiding, before you're forced to realize just how little you've aged in the time you've been with them, just how long it's been since they last asked for your advice.

maybe, if you're lucky, you'll have enough time to learn as much from them as they have from you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere theory #general

511 notes · View notes

pursuitseternal · 4 months

Text

“Our Blood is Thicker: Into the Fire,” first sequel quest for the Ascendant and his Raven

Astarion x Cordehlia | E | 3.5 K of exposition and throne sex

🎨 by @marimosalad , co-parent creator

NSFW version on X 🍒🍆

Summary: A favor once given to ensure Ascension is finally owed in turn. Raphael arrives from Avernus to negotiate the aid of his much-adored Bone Picker on the front lines of the Blood War, but the Ascendant won’t let her go alone. With the thrill of another battle on the horizon, Astarion and his Raven steal a moment just for the two of them. Lust and bloodlust aren’t quite so diffent.

CW: another deal with the devil, hints of voyeurism, pre-battle sex, male receiving oral, assplay, rim job, romantic PiV throne sex, semi-public sex, possessive Astarion

Original Fic | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 1: “Where Two Raging Fires…”

🔥💞🔥💞🔥💞🔥💞🔥💞🔥💞🔥💞🔥💞🔥

Air had grown warmer in the palace, then the slight stink of sulphur. Astarion sat up from the back of his throne, glancing at Cordehlia who lounged against the arm of his massive chair, her favorite place.

At his literal right hand. That hand that usually toyed sneakily over her back or up her thigh when eyes weren’t watching too closely. Or even when they were.

This… this stung them both, made both their hearts rap faster in trepidation at the memories of those similar times.

Slowly, the cloud of shadow and fire dissipated, and an all-too-familiar face leered up at the royal couple from the floor beneath their dais. “They say… uneasy lies the head that wears the crown…” that deep velvet voice crooned, “but I suspect it is because of the crown now, you’re receiving head much more easily, isn’t that right, Lord Astarion…”

Astarion sneered, holding up Cordehlia’s hand in his, resting it on the arm of his throne. “What do you want Raphael?” he sneered. “And you can skip whatever questionable poetry you’ve rehearsed for the occasion.”

The devil looked at his nails, placing one foot on the bottom step of the dais. “Why else would I come back into this realm than to say it’s time to cash in on my favor to you, Lord Astarion, Vampire Ascendant, saviour of Baldur’s Gate and overthrower of his erstwhile master…” His deep set face drew into a smirk and he climbed right up to the throne, making a growl rumble in Astarion’s chest. His fangs bared as he watched the Cambion scoop up Cordehlia’s hand to press it in greeting to his lips. “The favor I ask, however is not for you to fulfill, mighty master. It is for your lovely and fearsome bride, for the Bone Picker.”

“I no longer answer to that title, devil,” she snipped, ripping her fingers from his burning touch. “I am my Lord’s Raven, now…”

“And bride,” Raphael smirked darkly. “You reek of him…. Somehow worse than before the fall of the Absolute.”

“You say that as if it’s a problem,” Astarion sneered deeply, hackles raised if he had them, as every muscle in his body wound tight to attack.

“Of course not, what’s yours you’ve won, fair and square, and so hard-earned as well. A victory with every advantage that was generously bestowed upon you.” Raphael straightened and withdrew a step. “I do require your Right Hand’s many talented skills in the hells, however. The Blood War reaches a pinnacle, and her ferocity should turn the tide in our favor.”

“That sounds like a devil of a problem…” Astarion smirked, placing his hand on Cordhelia’s thigh where it rested over the arm of his throne, softly teasing the leather of her breeches. An extra loud drag of his nail over its soft leather caught Raphael’s attention. “You should know, better than anyone, I won’t be letting my darling Raven out of my sights.” He gave a polite but toothy smile. “You will have to rethink your favor, then if you wish it to be satisfied.”

“Very well,” Raphael bowed his head in deference. “As the Vampire Ascendant, your efforts would go a long way as well in battle. I would be remiss not to have you join in the fray, beside your beloved of course.”

The way his dark eyes glinted made Cordehlia’s brow furrow, her chin jutted out a bit more in a vision of confidence, even as her mind ran over and over again through her suspicions. “Tell us more about the battle, the enemy, the terrain, before we consent to your request,” she hissed at the devil, the commanding voice and experience of the Bone Picker coming full force. “There is something you aren’t telling us, devil.”

And it made Raphael noticeably shiver. “I swear it’s just a bunch of pesky demons and imps. I’m sure you and your lover will make quick work of them while my forces decimate the bulk of their ranks.”

Astarion’s brows raised high. “My my, you must be desperate if you’re going to be fighting too.”

“I would hate to make a request of your illustrious selves I wouldn’t also… indulge in,” the devil grinned.

“Oh I’m sure there is much you would indulge in….” Astarion sneered. Then, his eyes looked up into Cordehlia’s, those matching crimson irises sparkling as they fell silent. Little expressions crossed their faces, their thoughts clearly unified, that fabled marriage bond between Sire and Bride clearly not stuff of legends only. A playful smirk dallied across her full lips before Astarion’s gaze returned to the devil at his feet. “Very well, you have our pledge of strength. We will leave…”

“Now,” Raphael interrupted. “We must go now, this instant. Or else all will fail.”

Cordehlia stood from the arm of his throne, blades already spinning in her palms. Testing their weight and grinning all the while. “We need an hour to prepare. You ready your portal to the hells, Raphael.”

As the devil bowed low, she let one dagger sing just over the top of his head before it embedded in the wall behind. His dark eyes stared in insulted, aroused fear as he instantly looked up.

Cordhelia only narrowed her glare more. “And if this proves more difficult of a favor than you paid us… if this poses a risk to me or my lord, I’ll have your cambion testicles brined as a trophy, do you understand?”

Raphael gave that well-practiced, wicked smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t let any harm befall my favorite legend or the new favorite of Mephistopheles… there would be literal hell to pay.”

“Oh…” Astarion sat up, hand splayed across the buckles of his jacket, “is that me? Am I the favorite?” He smirked, that one that was dripping with arrogance and self-conceit.

“I wont waste my breath spouting off your praises, Lord Astarion, for they are so well-sung. My humble additions would do nothing—”

“You’re wasting precious time to prepare, Raphael,” Cordehlia’s voice sliced through his oily accolades.

A slight twitch of the devil’s eye, a subtle raise of his mouth and a pause of his breath, and wordlessly, Raphael bowed. With that, the Ascendant and his Raven watched as he receded, both managing to perceive that sly little turn of his mouth as he left the throne room.

After a breath, Astarion looked up at his bride, eyes softer as he scanned her face. “I don’t like it,” he said coolly.

“Hmm,” Cordehlia shifted her legs around, sliding off the wide arc of his throne and settling herself on his lap in one fluid motion. “The only thing better than the devil you do know is if we rid ourselves of any lingering bargains, don’t you agree?” She met his gaze, his breath warm as he sighed, two-hundred years of betrayal, of abuse, years brimming with the pain of owing everything to others still shined in those faintly glowing depths. “I had nothing for so long, not even my own body…” he had once said. “You want freedom, my love,” she whispered, nuzzling against the pulse point of his neck to hear his heart racing, “we need to satisfy this last agreement, and then all of that is behind us.”

Closing his eyes, Astarion could see the memory of his Ascension from her hazy, venom-clouded sight. Memories were filled with her darkening gaze as she watch that red light bathing his pale skin, sad eyes glowing with Ascended power before her own closed almost for good. Her thoughts swirled inside her own head right now, thoughts racing with images and emotions to reach him down their tethered bond.

“I’d do it all again,” he whispered, stroking her flowing, fiery hair, “I’d give all that again, make the same decisions, just to have this moment with you, my darling. The chance to hold you on my lap again… to keep your soul in this realm and bind your heart to mine as my bride…” A sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “worth every sacrifice made.”

Cordehlia swallowed past the lump of tears in her throat. “Helps that you have me right on your cock…” she teased, ignoring the damp fluttering of her voice, “on a throne no less, you spoiled lordling.”

He gave a single laugh, damp on his breath with nearly-shed tears at the memory of almost losing her. “Where you belong for eternity now, my darling Cordehlia,” he rasped. His nose pressed into that soft skin behind her ear, breath hot as he whispered more. “Think your preparations will take the full hour, my Raven? Or is there some room for… indulgent activity before we leave for uncertain danger and battle again?”

“You know I don’t believe in any more what-if-we-die-today fucks,” she whispered, voice deep and needy in her throat as she turned her lips to brush his. “But if you’re asking just because… then say the word, my love, and I’ll have you right here on your throne.”

His warm lips suckled the bottom of her own pointed ear, making her squirm and soak her under things all at once. “Please,” he whispered, that gravely undertone in his voice. “Having you always gets me in the right frame of mind for a fight,” he goaded her, a little thrust of his hips to grind his hardening cock against her left thigh.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Cordehlia ran her hand beneath the hem of his jacket, sliding her cool touch to tease the buttons of his breaches, the supple velvet doing him no favors to hide his erection.

“Come now,” he purred in the same dulcet tones that still made shivers race down her spine, “we both know you want this too. Let me help you clear your head before we enter back into battle. He slipped the buttons of her tunic open to expose those voluptuous breasts of hers, “I’d hate to leave you wanting, to leave you stuck dreaming instead of doing.”

She arched her back, letting her tunic fall open for both of those hardening mounds to touch the air. A sigh on her lips escaped as his mouth closed around that pretty pink nipple to suck. “It’s a fine line between lust and bloodlust,” she rasped.

“Don’t we know it, my love,” he spoke, swiping his tongue through her bosom to capture the other aching nipple.

Fingers freeing his cock, she lovingly stroked him until every vein raised hard and its head flushed hot and pink with need.

A growl in his throat, and Astarion’s hands fussed for her own laces to her leathers. “Why couldn’t you wear the dresses I’ve bought you?” he hissed, chastising. “It would make this so much faster for both of us,” he grunted.

“Oh, poor baby, needing to work a little to get to the rewards of his labors,” she snickered, sweeping her thumb over his cock’s weeping slit. “I can’t spoil you too much or you would be positively insufferable.” She whispered into his ear, only to suck his earlobe into her mouth, jeweled earring and all. Warm precum seeped out over her hand as he shuddered beneath her.

“Are you my raven or are you a minx?” he rasped, breath forced from his lungs.

“Can’t I be both?” she murmured against the shell of his pointy ear, running the barest tip of her tongue up it just the once.

“You are both,” he corrected bluntly as he choked on his words. He spasmed against her, and Cordhelia laughed slowly, settling her body, fluid and smooth, to sit on the floor of their dais, nestled between his thighs. She fished out his balls too, widening that gap of his breeches and prying his thighs all the wider for her. Astarion shifted, a contented sigh in his throat. “Always the good soldier, aren’t you, my darling? Beginning with a proper weapons inspection?”

“Shhh,” she gave him a peeved, twisted smile. “Save your razor wit and authority for the battlefield.” Her thumb swept up and down that hardening length, but her rosy lips pressed in little suckles and licks over the loose skin of his balls. That hiss from between his fangs as she nipped that velvet skin with her own blunted teeth was music to her ears. Just a tease of danger, just a hint of dominance and threat to make him whimper. Her hand worked his marble-hard and vein-ridged shaft, her mouth easily sucked one ball between her cheeks to suckle and then the other.

“And to think, those hands of yours are about to tear their talons through some demonic forces,” he sighed, voice strained in his throat, hips bucking as he looked down at those bright, vermilion eyes glinting at him with adoring mischief.

Those hands tugged his trousers to his ankles, efficiently pulling off one boot before she had freed his leg completely. “Why don’t you let me pamper you, my lovely lordling, one more time before we face death and destruction again…” her voice was molten with desire, those lips barely off from sucking his cock.

He groaned his approval, never one to turn down being spoiled. Those lithe hands of her guided his leg up and over the arm of his throne. That touch pulled him closer to the edge of his throne. His cock throbbed from need, her lips having yet to close around it completely. But that tongue laved around his balls until, finger and mouth explored his tight hole at the back, suddenly making him ache with pleasure. Fists gripped the arms of his throne, and he was glad they were metal, not wood, that they would bend and not shatter under the force he now clutched them with. “Easy, Cordehlia,” he panted. “Do you want the devil to come back and give us an audience?”

“I think you can bite your tongue,” she chuckled against his sensitive flesh before diving in for a bit more.

Bite his tongue, he did. Or his knuckle rather. The copper of his own blood covered his teeth, his core flooding with heat and tightening with pleasure with every lick and teasing touch she made around his ass. “Love,” he croaked in a single breath. A warning as he approached his own climax so quickly.

Licking her lips, she sat back on her heels, her hands slowly undoing the laces to her black tunic, letting that deep collar open to reveal her breasts. His cock twitched, untouched, at the sight of their fullness, those rosy nipples just barely visible in the cloth’s gap.

“I might have been a touch aggressive, my love,” she purred as she slid her body up, dragging her breasts up over his weeping cock first, pausing to let it glide slightly between their warm curves. That length jolted at the contact, his back arching, his hands gripping subtly against the nape of her neck.

“Save your aggression,” he chided her back with a suck of his teeth. “I’d prefer your adoration, my darling,” he asked, voice soft with love and yet edged with need. Her brows raised, that look in his eyes the same as it had always been, centuries of longing never to be sated. A look of pure love that could never be given or reciprocated enough.

Her elven body moved with all its grace, climbing to rest in his lap, her forehead pressed to his. Even with her crimson eyes closed, she could see his smile, feel his warm breath on her own lips. His skilled fingers wove intricate patterns against her neck, teasing and spinning her coppery red hair.

“I could hold you like this forever,” he whispered, that sweet confession from his now-beating heart. “And even still, forever wouldn’t be enough.”

Cordehlia leaned just slightly, lips pressing the cool fullness against his own. “My eternal lover,” she whispered, “my husband and sire by blood, a blood thicker than time itself.”

“Tch,” he broke from the kiss with a taunting tone, “my fighter has a bit of the poetic bard inside her.”

Oh, that smirk on her pale face and that glint in her scarlet eyes, it made him gasp as she lined up his cock with her entrance and sank down on him at long last. “No, I only let insufferable elvish rogues inside me,” she replied in a voice of purest desire.

“Fuck, Cordehlia, you know what I meant,” he rasped against her grinning lips, hand still heavy at the nape of her neck as she slowly began to ride him.

One hand braced into the thick gold filigree of the throne’s back, the other caressed his cheek, keeping his forehead pressed tenderly against her own. Those now-crimson eyes closed, fluttered shut to savor the way his warm breath panted over her awaiting tongue. When she closed her eyes, it was as if no time had passed, as if his pulse thrummed in her veins, as if his breath carried life into her soul. This, this was when she felt whole, completed.

This was when she lost herself in the warmth of who he was, in his love and passion and power. A sigh on his lips against his own, and she dove her tongue in to taste him, that comforting feeling that transported her back centuries and leagues away to the very beginnings of their love.

This was no rough fuck, no bloodlust driven blind drive for release. A union of two souls, battered and bruised as they were, shared between one beating heart.

It was enough for her to slip her mind into his, to flood his every waking and subconscious thought with every moment shared between them. With ragged breath and aching legs, she rode him, his hands rocking her hips to bring her somehow even closer.

“Look at me, Cordehlia,” his lips whispered noiselessly against her gaping mouth.

Eyes wide, dark and dilated, his gaze flickered over her beautiful face. His reflection was mirrored almost infinitesimally in those vermillion eyes of his Bride. His gut twisted in a mix of grief as he missed those star-kissed silver ones and a mix of reassurance to see her made forever in his own image and under his eternal protection.

“Astarion,” her voice barely more than a breath. “Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid in battle…”

“Only if you make the same promise, my queen of battle and blood,” he rumbled in reply, lips barely breaking from the taste of her own. His hips rolled in perfect union with her, stealing her breath until all she could do was nod her assurance. “Good,” he grunted, eyes still locked into hers, hungry to watch her come apart for him one more time. “Now, I’m going to fill you so that when that devil comes sniffing after my Lady Corvus, he can’t help but scent me,” his voice rough and gravely in his throat.

She pushed herself harder, hand gripping her nails into the back of his neck too to keep his damp forehead pressed hard against hers, her tongue tangled in the warmth of his until her breath stopped as she came. Her taste flooded with the tang of her blood as he bit the corner of her lip accidentally. His own body was lost in the waves of pleasure she commanded as he came, hard and sudden and shaking as he filled her. Grunting, his fangs released her lip, tongue lapping the wound closed out of habit as his hips gave a few softer rolls until he finally stilled.

Fingers ran through her hair, one last kiss on her bloodied lips and he released her. She made quick work of her trousers again, and Astarion did the same, belts fastened not a moment too soon as the doors to the chambers opened again. Raphael entered, a smug sort of grin twisting his swarthy, deepest face. An armload of items, Raphael set them down in the center of the receiving chamber. A snap of his fingers, and salt began to pour along the floor in patterns, the arcs and points required for a portal into Avernus. Then he turned that sinister smirk on the two vampires, a blush covering both their pale cheeks. “I figured salt was a safer bet to use in place of blood in the presence of two ravenous vampires, but it smells like you’ve already sated your… appetites.”

Astarion gave that low, rolling chuckle, eyes watching as the devil started setting out items for the rite. “My house, my rules…” his voice dropped to an intimidating growl, “my consort.”

“Your house, indeed, and master of all that resides in it, I’m sure,” Raphael’s thick lips grinned over his shoulder. “As for me, I would never allow for such… relations… outside of my chambers, as Master of my house.”

“Well, how fortunate we are under my palatial roof where I am Master,” Astarion sneered with bold confidence. He stood, making his way with abject determination. “Now that necessities are taken care of,” he threw at Raphael as he passed, “a simple trip to our armory and we will be ready for whatever fresh hell awaits us.”

Even Cordehlia snickered at that one, shaking out her red hair and following in her lover’s wake.

66 notes · View notes

honeycollectswhump · 8 months

Note

PLEASE aftermath of the shock collar piece?👉👈 back to normal? back to ashtray being loved and lovingly used for his normal standard purpose? so he knows he in fact didn't do anything wrong? and he's a good boy? MAYBE... MAYBE EVEN... merciful mistress mireille checking on him to make sure he's gonna be alright?🥺 because maybe she's worried she went a bit too far with all the shocks?🥺

-🪷

Citrine Kisses

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, cigarette burns, past torture (referenced)

When her servants carry in the ashtray the next day, no amount of makeup they have desperately seemed to apply can hide his condition. As Mireille lounges on her velvet couch, worth someone’s fortune, she can’t help but notice his sickly sweet, pale tone and the occasional twitch he tries and fails to hide. It’s unbecoming of such a luxurious good as him, laughable for the price she paid for him to be pretty.

It almost makes her want to ring her stupid servants back and have someone, anyone, answer for ruining her scene with a pathetic excuse for a golden ashtray. And yet…

And yet she doesn’t.

Despite it all, he still looks beautiful, doesn’t he? There is beauty to be found in his alabaster skin, no matter if it was caused by the thick collar around his pretty thin neck, which has still left imprints like two pricks of a vampire. The thought makes her laugh, elegantly like chiming bells, like candlelight and a passionate kiss. No, Mireille wouldn’t mind being a vampire.

Twirling a lush black lock around her finger, a cigarette between her lips, she leans forward, taking in the sight of her ashtray. If he were a diamond, she’d hold him in her hand against the light, letting rays of sun play with the rainbow. What happened yesterday, it too was like seeing a rainbow illuminate her walls, each gasping scream echoing in her mind like a marvellous symphony.

Under her gaze, the ashtray goes still like a marble statue. He never raises his eyes, just like it should be. Silently worshipping but never being brash enough to gaze upon her.

Mireille bathes in the knowledge that the ashtray’s biggest fear must be displeasing her. That is all he was made for after all. Maybe… maybe that is why he now holds himself differently, but it’s not like she could expect a simple thing like him to understand the aesthetic intention behind the shock collar, the joy and entertainment so unlike a punishment. Of course, the ashtray is too simple to get that.

It almost makes her feel bad, if only for the unappreciated amusement getting drowned out by his pleading devotion. He had been good yesterday, had been less an ashtray and more a diamond yet to be polished. She is merciful, Mireille thinks with a slight smile, and his pretty screams have earned him a reward.

Gracefully, she takes her cigarette from her lips, gazing at it for a moment, before delicately placing a hand on his shining golden locks. Immediately, the ashtray leans into her touch, imperceptively stretching himself to press himself into her palm.

He was made mindless but a simple drawled “Ashtray” is enough to get his attention fully on her. Melting under her gracious touch, her thing turns towards her, lowered and on his knees. Mireille pets his head a couple of times, like she has seen with her friend’s lapdog. She much prefers love as an act of passion, of art and burning.

The ashtray shivers under her touch, as she lets her long fingers glide down his jaw and tilt his head up to meet her eyes. “You love that, huh?”, she chuckles, and that alone seems to give him to strength to hold himself straighter.

“You’ve been a good boy, a very good boy. Your screams have been delightful, you’ve done so well.”

A hazy smile appears on his lips as if drugged, and for a moment she considers the fun in that. Instead, though, she holds out her hand, beckoning him to lay his hand in hers. Of course, the ashtray complies, it is all he knows, eager to please like a dog or something less.

Holding eye contact makes her ashtray flush sweetly, and he shivers again. This, she thinks, is also art.

“You are my favourite toy, I want you to never forget that.” Mireille purrs, lightly holding his hand like a prince would a princess’, his fingers curled around hers. “A reward would only be fitting, don’t you think? Something to commemorate this?”

She turns the cigarette between her fingers until it feels right, before placing the glowing end of it on the ashtray's pale skin, pressing down until the citrine gets swallowed up by ash.

Never once does he flinch, steadily looking at her. A practice of worship, the greatest price of them all.

Soon, when her servants wash away the dirty ash, a bright red spot will remain, burning through skin and tissue, a kiss his body will never be able to heal. And her ashtray, her stupid little ashtray, will look at it in doglike adoration, his most precious possessions are the scars she allows him, and he will be thankful.

Sometimes Mireille wonders if the ashtray pities her servants for their lack of burning, wonders if her little lamb prides itself in the red scarf wrapped around its neck, telling a story of how the butcher will one day cut its throat.

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox, @whumpshaped, @clickerflight let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

106 notes · View notes

violettduchess · 11 months

Note

Yay! I'm excited for this idea of yours!! Could I ask for Silvio + Vampire/Detective (either works!) + Fluff? I felt like Pirate was too obvious 😂😌

A/N: We talked about this and the request changed a wee bit. So here is your Silvio, a vampire MC and something spicy! I hope you enjoy it my sweet @xbalayage 💜

Silvio x female vampire Reader

WC: 2.7 k

It is a night of gleaming silver stars and a sharp sliver of moon. The ancient manor, hidden within the protective shadows of the forest, stands regal, with its seven gables and heavy velvet curtains. Inside, its occupants yawn, rising to greet the darkness, readying themselves for an evening of meetings, treaties and hopefully, revelry.

You’re in the banquet room, watching the others eat merely for the pleasure of it. None of them actually needs food. Mortal cuisine is appealing every now and then but it’s been so long since you were human, you hardly ever feel the need to indulge in such nostalgia.

Although…..maybe indulging would be better than….this. Lifting the crystal goblet to your lips, you tell yourself it won’t be that bad. Just give it a chance. This time the blood substitute given to all the vampires attending the gathering could actually taste good. You tilt it upwards and the cool, thickly-clotted, crimson liquid creeps down the glass in fits and stops, crossing the line of your red lips and coating your tongue.

Your body heaves and your throat closes in a gag. A full body shudder runs through your limbs from the top of your head to the tips of your toes in their black boots.

Ugh, enough of this.

The goblet is set down in one violent motion, clanging as it hits the polished onyx of the banquet table. Ignoring the curious gazes of other clan members, you push your chair away and flounce from the extravagant dining room in a flash of dark satin and black leather.

“Still revolting,” you mutter to yourself as you storm through the manor, down hallways lined with oversized, dour portraits of vampire nobility, lush carpeting absorbing the fall of your heels. In a cloud of indignation you fume all the way back to your guest suite where you throw open the ornate wooden door……

…..to find Silvio lounging on your bed, sipping a glass of the vile liquid you just rejected while thumbing through your black, leather-bound notebook.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He glances up, not one ounce of shame on his extraordinarily handsome face.

“You told me I should read your notes on all the other clan members. So I’m readin’ ‘em.”

“Oh for fucks sake, I didn’t mean break into my room and take over my bed.”

You’ve known Silvio Ricci for so long. A century ago, you worked together to broker a trade deal/ peace agreement between the Benitoite vampire clans and those of your native Rhodolite. Its massive success ensured that you have been working together ever since.

He sits up, stretching out his long body, his impossibly blue eyes still scanning your notebook.

“You got the better room. And you keep annoyin’ me about learnin’ more about these Jadean vamp clans so-” He stops talking when he notices you lifting your velvet travel cloak from the armchair it had been draped over.

“What do you think you’re doin’? “

The dark cloak falls over your shoulders, settling with a soft, satisfying whoosh around you. Turning, you view your reflection in the mirrored front of the wardrobe, smoothing down the front of your elegant, sable blouse.

“I’m going out for a real drink.” A pat to your hair and then you spin on your heel, already feeling that prickling thrill that rushes through you at the beginning of any hunt.

But when you face the door to the bedroom, Silvio is there, blocking your exit. He must have shadow-jumped, moving in seconds from one place to another, using the shadows of the bedroom as conduits. Your notebook is facedown on the brocade carpet, abandoned.

“You’re not goin’ out there.”

Despite the height of your boots, you’re still forced to tip your head up in order to meet his gaze. You forget how tall he is sometimes. His moonlight hair falls forward, the tips brushing the tops of his slanted cheekbones, a celestial curtain behind which his ocean eyes burn bright.

Your brow arches in question as you force yourself to look into all that endless blue.

“The hell I’m not. Silvio. Move.”

“No fuckin’ way.” His jaw tightens, the words spit out through clenched teeth.

No, don’t throttle him yet. You draw a patient breath. “Why not?”

He rolls his eyes with a huff that tells you how very idiotic he finds that question and your fingers curl inwards, red nails pressing into the palms of your hands. Maybe time to throttle him?

“You know the woods outside this place are crawlin’ with Slayers, just lookin’ for a prize.”

A soft hiss escapes you. Fucking Vampire Slayers. They know the clans meet once a year and somehow they always find out exactly where that is. It makes arrivals and departures especially challenging and not every vampire survives it.

But you are not every vampire.

You fasten your cloak with one hand, the large rose-shaped ruby of your signet ring twinkling in the wan candlelight. “I’m a big girl, Silvio. I can handle myself.”

He growls as he shakes his head. “Stop being so fuckin’ stupid. Just drink the substitute for a few days and feed once we’re outta here.”

What is going on? Why does it even matter to him whether or not you take the risk of going out into the night?

"Silvio…..what the fuck? So I want to find some real blood. So it may be a bit dangerous. Who cares?!" Your voice is sharp with frustration, bright with an annoyance ready to ignite into anger.

"I do!! I fucking care!"

Silvio's words are torn from his throat by raw emotion, swift and fierce. Something in his eyes flashes, the piercing shine of a lighthouse beacon skimming the unknown darkness of the sea. His cheeks are uncharacteristically flushed, as if he’s embarrassed himself with his own outburst.

You’re stunned into silence. You can hardly breathe. All you feel right now is the atomic fallout of a heart suddenly blown to pieces by the most unexpected, shocking wave of desire. The world as you know it, have known it for ages, tilts, breaks into a million tiny pieces as you move towards him. Your hand slides over the rich silk of his shirt where you feel his heartbeat thunder against your palm. This is Silvio Ricci. He’s the most aggravating man you have ever known. Arrogant. Commanding. Excessive.

Your hand slides up, gripping the nape of his neck, your gaze never leaving his.

So many hours of correspondence. So many days over so many decades in each other’s company. And while you always had to admit that he was attractive, never had you felt the need to know what his mouth feels like under yours, to find out what sounds he makes when he surrenders to you, to hear the rasp of exhausted desire in his voice as it stutters your name.

And yet…..here, on a night when you expected to be battling enemies for a drink of fresh blood, here you are, your blood practically singing in your veins as you stare into his eyes, now dark as the sea in winter.

“Silvio…..” His name slips from your lips, unbidden, a whisper rounded by yearning.

It is oil to the smoldering heat in his veins. His strong hands reach for you, pull you against him as he dips his head to capture your mouth with his. You gasp at the feel of the strong lines of his body, how well they fit against yours. And you gasp at the feel of his lips, his tongue. Hesitation dies, burned to ash by lust. His fingers press into you, greedy, almost needy. His mouth is demanding, hardly giving you a moment to adjust before he moves, head tilting from one side to another, tongue demanding access over and over. He kisses you as if he is drowning man and you are oxygen, as if you are the lifeblood essential to all vampires. You feel the sharp scrape of his teeth against your lips, the way his skin grows warmer under the hand that still grips his neck.

With a throaty growl, you jerk out of his arms, stepping back. He hisses, taking a step toward you. He can’t drink in the sight of you fast enough. Your electric gaze, your lips, red and kiss-swollen, the graceful movement of your hand as you unhook your cloak in a single motion. It falls to the carpet soundlessly.

And then, with vampiric speed, you are back in his arms and he’s lifting you, carrying you to the bed he had been lazily lounging on not that long ago. He lays you down on your back, one hand reaching down to brush away several locks of hair that have fallen across your neck and shoulders. His gaze follows his own fingers as they brush over your skin as if entranced by the sight, as if he can’t believe that he’s actually touching you. When you reach up and take his hand, he blinks, his cheeks flushing as if he’s been caught doing something too private, too intimate. He lowers his body, burying his heated face in the curve where neck meets your shoulder. Your fingers slide through his moon-spun hair and the aesthetic of your sharp, crimson nails dragging through all that silver pleases you deeply.

“I knew it,” he murmurs, his nimble fingers somehow already nearly finished undoing the front lacing of your blouse. “I knew you wanted me.” His tongue traces each new expanse of skin as it is revealed. But the blouse only opens so far. He curses the innocent piece of clothing, impatiently grabbing the hem and pulls it over your head.

“You are such an idiot,” you gasp, fingers curling inward of their own accord as he leaves a string of heated kisses down your abdomen, his eager fingers already skimming over the waistband of your leather pants.

He lifts his head, pushing himself up with one hand, his eyes as bright as twin stars. His fingers pause and it is torture.

“There’s no shame in it, ya know. Lots of people want me. You probably wanted me for centuries, huh.”

Oh this jerk, this ridiculous, infuriating, beautiful vampire jerk.

You tilt your head, your hands roaming over the luxurious material of his sleeves. A corner of your mind pulsing with want wonders if he would mind you tearing it to shreds. Ah but he needs to be taught a lesson for such arrogant talk. Using your supernatural strength and speed, you roll, easily flipping him onto his back, pinning him down with one hand even as you straddle him invitingly.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me leave. Who told me….what was it? How much you care. And then started kissing me like the world is ending.” You run your thumb over his lips, slowly enough to feel the way they tremble.

His breath hitches in his throat and you watch, fascinated and oddly turned on by how red his cheeks suddenly glow. Who knew he blushed so easily? He looks away, brow scrunched in irritation even as his hands slide over the curve of your hips, over the leather that is molded to your form, holding you firmly in place against him.

“The fuck you talkin’ about…,” he mutters before reaching up for you, pulling you back down towards him. “Shuddup and let's get back to how much you want me.”

You pause, your lips scant centimeters away from his. “I believe the evidence of how much you want me is much…..clearer.” You roll your hips against his, demonstratively and there is no denying the hard truth of your words.

He groans, shaking his head and the world tilts again as he flips your positions, covering you with the lean, muscular length of his body. The bed groans at all this gymnastics.

Your pants join your discarded blouse and travel cloak in a forlorn heap on the floor. How he managed that between kisses that leave you dizzy and aching and fighting for air is a mystery for the ages.

You’ve managed to wrangle him out of most of his clothing, without tearing anything, when suddenly you grow still, your eyes closing as a wave of true, overwhelming dizziness crashes over you. Silvio feels the way your body stiffens and freezes, his hand growing still on the inside of your thigh. He raises his disheveled head from the line of red marks he was leaving along your lower stomach.

“You ok?”

You blink, trying to clear the sloshing in your head.

“I….I think I’m just hungry.” You try to smile, to lighten the violent shift in mood. “I was trying to go get something to eat when you so….expertly distracted me.”

He scrambles into a sitting position and then carefully, almost tenderly, reaches down to help you sit up as well, propping you up against the pillows.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t had a drink since we got here?” The paleness of your face, the way you’re holding yourself is answer enough. “The fuck?? We’ve been here a week! You ain’t really that stupid, are ya?”

You wince at his justified admonishment and he sighs heavily. He reaches down, grabbing a handful of his own billowy white shirt from off the floor and pulls it over your head, covering the body he had so eagerly uncovered just moments ago. The sight of you in his shirt has him swallowing, a tangle of complicated emotions tumbling through him.

Standing, he crosses the room in nothing but his silken braies, heading for the table next to the dresser and even through your light-headedness you can’t help but admire the lean cut of his body. He reaches for the crystal decanter, the one filled every evening for all attendees with fresh blood substitute, the one you have ignored for days despite how often they refresh it. The liquid flows from the lip of the decanter into the intricate glass that has lived untouched on that same table and with a determined set to his jaw, he strolls back to you, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. He shoves the glass in your direction, his expression a scowl draped in the embarrassment of caring.

“I know you can’t stand this shit but you ain’t gonna be able to handle all the things I’m wanna do to you unless you got some strength in ya. So stop actin’ like a stubborn jackass and-”

You yank the glass from his hand and, your gaze never leaving his, knock down the contents in one long swallow. You almost manage to hide your revulsion.

Silvio takes the glass from you, his fingers brushing yours, softly, like small flames licking at your skin. He grins slowly and any lingering feeling of disgust is incinerated by the sudden desire that flares through your body.

“Ya want me that bad, huh?”

The blood substitute has renewed you, has sparks exploding like tiny supernovas through the pathways of your veins. You feel reborn, a phoenix bursting from the ashes in a fiery explosion of wings and want. You move faster than a human eye could see, too fast for his own enhanced vision. One moment he’s grinning at you, licking his lips like a cat that’s caught the canary and the next he’s pinned beneath you again, looking up into a face bright with eagerness, eyes glowing with satisfaction.

And when your fangs slowly protract, it’s all he can do to stop himself from taking you then and there.

“The lady is still hungry,” he rasps as your hands slide over his chest, your strong fingers curling around the hard muscles of his shoulders, sharp red nails biting pleasurably into his skin.

You lower yourself down, tracing the shape of his ear with your tongue, fangs scraping the delicate skin. Beneath your body, you feel the tremor of lust that rolls through him and you smile, the apex predator clutching its prey within possessive talons as you whisper in a voice raw with yearning, “The lady is absolutely…..famished.”

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @queen-dahlia @nightghoul381 @bubblexly @ozalysss

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen silvio #vampire au #ikepri halloween costume challenge #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #violettwrites

97 notes · View notes