Day 14: Fantasy AU
Day 14: fantasy AU
Masterlist flufftober đ
This is a bit (too) long, but I honestly loved writing it. I hope you like it as much as I do, it's my favorite so far!
Living as a magical creature was undoubtedly difficult. But being born a witch was practically a death sentence.
You couldnât boast that your kind had ever been fully accepted by society, but at least you could live in peace with others, and perhaps, out of fear, they wouldnât dare harm you. But now, everything was different with the institution of a new system that aimed to completely exterminate you.
There were no longer safe places, and you were forced to retreat into the forest, stay united in covens, or the boldest among you faced the enemy. Treating you as a threat only turned you into one, sparking an unprecedented war where the kingâs men used all sorts of devices to hunt, torture, and kill witches. On your side, you practiced every spell you knew, cursing them sometimes and even causing entire towns to suffer the consequences.
It was so sad to witness the feud and know that someday you could be the one standing on that stake that had taken so many lives or hanging with your feet floating above the ground as a demonstration of what they were capable of doing: a warning.
You doubted that you could ever kill someone out of spite. Your work had always been about healing, and up until that moment, you hadnât allowed dark magic to corrupt you in any way, adhering to your principle that magic should only be used for altruistic purposes or, at worst, in self-defense.
However, that didnât exempt you from fearing the men tasked with hunting you. You used to travel between towns to sell your healing potions, always careful not to be spotted by anyone who might turn you in. Sometimes, you worked for free for families too poor to afford other services. After all, magic was more effective. It was always more effective, both for good and for evil.
The fireplace burned softly inside your cabin, just enough to warm you but not enough to attract the attention of those who passed through the forest. Honestly, being there sometimes felt like living in a cave. You had covered the few windows to avoid being seen, and to counteract the lack of light, you had placed candles throughout the space.
You were preparing a stew for dinner with vegetables you had bought that afternoon in a neighboring town when a knock at the door startled you. The knocks werenât aggressive but not timid either, and you quickly ran to extinguish most of the candles, hoping whoever was behind the door would go away. No one found your place by accident, so it had to be an intruder. If it were another witch, you would have felt it.
"I know you're in there," said a voice behind the wood. It was deep, and fortunately, not unfamiliar to you. "Let me in, I donât want anyone else noticing Iâm here."
Fearful but determined, you walked to the door to do as he asked. Suddenly, you remembered how the man always complained that your footsteps made no sound, something you found useful all the time.
Before opening, you discreetly peeked through a crack in the wood to make sure no one else was with him. Having a witch hunter at your door was bad enough; more of them would be catastrophic.
You pulled the handle of the old wood to reveal your guest, and he silently walked inside.
You had never met a man as strange as Reid, the witch hunter. You first saw each other during a skirmish you hadnât planned to be part of but unfortunately ended up involved in. Your role wasnât to attack anyone; instead, you helped your injured companions. At some point during the altercation, the man managed to catch you, and, scared but determined not to let him discover who you were, you tried to escape. He attempted to put a pair of shackles on you, but you fought back with all your strength. Although you tried to cast a spell, the man was intelligent. His hands strategically held you to prevent any of your movements, and he was strong enough that you couldnât overpower him.
âWitch, itâll be worse if you resistâŚâ
You didnât know if he said that to convince you or out of frustration from the struggle you were giving him, but you didnât want to find out either. You bit the hand within your reach, and though he groaned, he didnât release you entirely. When one of your feet touched the ground, giving you more stability, you kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to let you go.
You tried to run, but the man was an expert. He quickly reached for his sword, still sheathed at his waist. You looked him in the eye and regretted being in this situation. You didnât want to hurt him, but it was kill or be killed.
Suddenly, you noticed hesitation in him, as if he didnât want to do anything but capture you. His long hair was tangled, and his face was smeared with blood: you didnât want to know if it was his or one of the womenâs.
A crash echoed, and in a split second, a flash of blue light shot through the air, hitting the hunterâs shoulder in front of you. A few inches to the side, and it probably would have killed him instantly.
He collapsed to the ground, dropping his sword to use his hand to try to stop the blood pouring out in torrents. You stood in shock, watching him for a few seconds, stunned by the deep pain on his face. However, there was something else: it looked like hate, but if you looked closely, it was fear. No one wants to die, and in that gaze, there was fear of passing to the other life.
What could you do in that case? The wisest thing would have been to run away and leave him to his fate, but you hesitated for a second. Was that really the right thing to do? He had tried to capture you, but after all, he was a man, a soul.
Cautiously but without wasting time, you stumbled to his side, kneeling, and extended your hands over his body, covered by a leather jacket, pressing on the wound.
âLeave me alone!â
âShut up, Iâm trying to save your life,â you scolded him.
You began to recite a spell, and although he tried to move, the pain wouldnât let him. Little by little, he felt the burning sensation diminishing, along with the feeling of his blood gushing out.
Reid was an expert at remembering faces. Thanks to that, his team of hunters often managed to catch witches, even if they moved from place to place. While you worked, he focused on observing you. Your face was smudged with soot, and you had a small cut at the hairline, but other than that, you were fairly easy to recognize. Your brows were furrowed with concern, and he wondered what kind of crazy person you were to be helping him, even though he had been about to condemn you minutes earlier.
When the pain was completely gone, leaving only a red stain, you knew you were vulnerable again, so you quickly got up to move away from the man. You didnât know how long you ran, but the memory of the tears streaming down your face, thinking about abandoning your own kind, was etched in your memory.
The second time you saw each other was a complete accident. You had gone to town to stock up on some materials you needed, carefully buying from different vendors so that no one could accuse you of practicing witchcraft, when you bumped into someone. Before you could apologize, you saw that golden insignia worn by the most prestigious hunters, and as soon as you looked up, you both recognized each other instantly.
You didnât hesitate to turn and run in the opposite direction, knocking into some people along the way. A few meters ahead, he caught up to you, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a secluded alley.
âDonât kill me,â was the first thing you said, looking at him with an involuntary pleading expression.
Thanks to the daylight, you could observe him better and noticed the hardness in his features. He was intimidating, no doubt, and you understood why there were enough reasons to consider him dangerous.
âWhy did you help me?â
There was a gruffness in his question that made it sound as if he were angry. Was he offended that he had been saved by the enemy? Or did he want to know your reasons before sending you to die?
He still held one of your hands tightly, fully aware that most spells required both your hands. There was silence for a moment as you stared at each other until you dared to speak.
âI donât know.â
âI tried to capture you.â
âI know,â you replied just as seriously. He still hadnât let you go. âBut itâs my job. I help others. And I didnât want the guilt of having left you lying there, although now that I think about it, it probably wouldâve been the smarter thing to do.â
âYou couldâve let me die, but you didnât,â he murmured, almost as if talking to himself rather than to you âYou didnât.â
He sounded incredulous, as if the idea of an act of kindness from you was unimaginable. You remained very still, waiting for him to do something, and after a few seconds, he released your wrist.
âGo,â he said again. âItâs a life for a life.â
Without thinking too much about what he was offering you, you fled once more, and you didnât stop until you reached the forest, completely forgetting the reason you had gone there in the first place. You would buy the ingredients elsewhere, what mattered most now was getting as far away from that hunter as possible.
As if by fate, you continued to run into each other, and each time your panicked glances were ignored by him, as if by not looking directly at you, he was giving you a chance to escape. Months passed this way, and at some point, you found him at your cabin door when you returned from the town.
You thought this would be your end and cursed yourself for not letting him die, sealing your tragic fate. However, he wasnât there to capture you but to make a deal. You couldnât believe it. After all, since when did hunters negotiate with witches?
âYouâre something like a healer, arenât you?â he asked once he had forced you inside the cabin so you wouldnât be discovered.
âI am.â
âAnd do you know how to treat head troubles?â he asked curiously âYou know, things doctors canât?â
You didnât understand what he wanted, and once again, you felt afraid. The enemy knew where you lived; he was standing in your home, not pinning you against a wall to immobilize you. He was seeking your help, which you had every right to refuse if you wished.
âYouâre a witch hunter,â you muttered aloud, your tone bordering on disgust âWhat does it matter if I can do that?â
If you were going to die, you wanted to do it with integrity.
âListen, I can offer you something in exchange for your help. I can protect you. If I hadnât kept quiet, my companions would have already found and killed you because no detail escapes me. If I figure it out, my whole team knows, but on their own, they wonât be able to decipher it. Iâm the one standing between them and you. If I say nothing, youâll be safe.â
Could you trust his word? What if it was all a trap? A million questions crossed your mind at that moment, and you tried to consider whether the risk was worth the reward. Probably no hunter in history had ever sought help from a witch, and you were sure your kind couldnât trust ordinary humans.
But despite knowing this, you accepted. After all, your secret was already exposed, and if you refused, you would only hasten the inevitable result. At least by accepting his deal, you bought time. You could live until he decided you were no longer useful, or when his team of hunters wanted to eliminate more witches.
Months had passed since then. Thatâs how he told you what he was suffering from, and you helped him treat it, giving him various infusions, ointments, and occasionally using some magic directly on him.
âHave you gotten better or worse?â
âIâve improved. On a scale from one to ten, maybe a seven.â
âHave you followed the instructions I gave you? The therapeutic baths, drinking the drops I gave you, all of thatâŚâ
âYes. Sometimes I donât have time, but I try.â
Whenever he visited you, neither of you made eye contact. You pretended to be busy preparing things, while he kept analyzing the wood of your table as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
âAlright. Give me a moment, and Iâll prepare what you need.â
Reid hummed in response, and he stayed calm, drumming his fingers on the surface in front of him. While you mixed ingredients, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing that he was wearing his characteristic black clothes, but this time he looked more relaxed. No sword or visible weapons. He was only wearing a linen shirt and pants, which made you wonder if the nightâs chill would affect him.
Your cabin was exceedingly warm, and although he wouldnât admit it, there was a comforting feeling upon entering.
âI heard you caught the Green Witch.â
âWe did, yes. Just yesterday. By the afternoon, her sentence had already been passed.â
âMay the gods receive her with joy, and may she become magical strength for her coven,â you recited, making a gesture similar to crossing yourself.
Reid assumed that this was what you witches said every time one of your kind died.
âDid you know her?â
âYes. We met a couple of times. She was a bit mad, but not so much that Iâd wish her dead.â
âShe did a lot of bad things.â
âI know. But years ago, she lived in peace with us.â You fell silent for a moment, waiting for a response. None came. âWhat you people do to my sisters is completely inhumane. Did you know that?â
âWeâre just trying to protect people.â
âYes, from something that wasnât dangerous until you decided it was. If you keep telling someone theyâre evil long enough, I think youâll eventually push them into becoming that.â
Admitting it out loud would be a betrayal of the principles on which he worked, but Reid had thought many times about what you had just told him. The first encounter he had with you caused a complete ideological conflict in his mind. The lingering question had started to take shape: What if not all witches were evil?
He had joined the hunters to help achieve a greater good for his people. During those months, he had enjoyed the effects of your remedies, you had taken care of him, and despite who he was, you treated him with respect. He wondered if your behavior was out of fear that he might expose you to the other hunters or if your actions were genuine.
âIf I refused to keep helping youâŚâ you began, breaking the silence. He was deep in thought, and your voice brought him back to reality âWould you send me to the stake?â
As you said this, you still didnât look at him. Focused on your work table, you gave him your back, somehow hoping his response would come directly to that place. You were sure of what he would say, that it would reach you like a stab.
âAre you planning to stop helping me?â
âWould you do it?â you insisted.
Reid thought about it for a moment and decided to answer your question with another.
âWould you be capable of killing me?â When you heard that, you turned with a confused expression. âYou have all the means, to be honest. I drink those things you give me without question. Whoâs to say you couldnât be poisoning me?â
âI would never do that.â
âI canât know that, just as you have doubts, so do I. Itâs a matter of trust. Helping me is your choice, Iâm just offering the benefit of protection in return. But if one day that agreement breaks, it wonât be me accusing you. If you decide to act wrongly, thatâs your responsibility.â
You fell silent, observing him seriously. He was such a strange man.
âSo, itâs our fault that weâre sent to die? Without being given the chance to prove we can help you?â
âDonât think Iâm a fool. I know you travel through the villages selling your potions and healing the poor. Youâre proving your worth by keeping yourself alive, and thatâs why youâre still here. You might live a long life as long as you donât draw attention.â
âBut Iâm still a witch in the end. And youâre a hunter. The outcome for that combination is logical and inevitable.â
âAnd do you think all hunters are monsters?â
âI donât know. Do you think all of us are evil?â
The two of you fell silent. Neither of you would dare say what you really thought. But there was something in the look you shared that felt hopeful.
Sensing the lack of response, you turned back to your work, and the conversation was over. A few minutes later, you placed three jars, a wooden container with ointment, and a plate of hot stew on the table.
âWhatâs this?â
âFood. No poison. If you donât want to join me, then take your remedies, and the door is open.â
You had never invited him to stay longer than necessary, and the proposal felt strange to both of you.
Reidâs silence and his remaining in your home seemed to indicate a positive response, and still without saying anything, you served yourself a plate to join him for dinner. The sound of the fireplace was all that could be heard around you, along with the occasional noises of nature.
Whenever you werenât paying attention, Reid would look up to observe you, as if you were a puzzle he needed to solve. Similarly, you analyzed his behavior, wondering if this man was worth the risks you were taking. Once, your gazes crossed, but as soon as your eyes met, both of you looked away.
âI should go,â he announced after finishing his meal. He wanted to compliment your cooking skills but couldnât find the words. âShould I take the medicine the usual way?â
âYes. The ointment is only if you have a fever.â
âAlright,â he muttered, nodding his head. He needed to leave, but it was as if his feet werenât responding. âThanks. For everything.â
For perhaps the first time, Reid saw a smile on your lips, and he took it as a sign of trust.
âBe careful on your way back.â
You didnât speak of the matter any further, and you tried with all your might not to think about it. But the weeks passed, and you heard no news of Reid. It wasnât as if you wanted to run into him everywhere, of course, but not knowing anything about him left you feeling strangely uneasy this time.
During one of your visits to town, you overheard rumors and couldnât help but get curious. Several people were saying the same thing, both villagers and hunters.
"The hunter Reid is sick."
The women recited prayers, and the men expressed their sympathy for him. Apparently, he was a well-liked figure among the villagers, which made you wonder why and, secondly, why he hadnât come to you for help.
Through whispers, a few questions, and your own deductions, you managed to find out where the man lived, and, trembling, you decided to search for him. Night had already fallen, and you hoped that under the cover of darkness, your identity would remain hidden.
Once you arrived, it wasnât difficult to open the door, but your main fear was that he might have company, which would ruin everything. You noticed that the place was modest, with just a small hallway, a little room with shelves full of books, and a tiny space for preparing and eating meals. In the back, visible from the entrance, was a room dimly lit by a nearly extinguished candle.
How angry would he be if he found you in his home? In his territory, violating the place he likely considered sacred and safe? A witch in the house of a witch hunter.
He was alone in the room, lying on a small bed pushed against the wall, barely fitting his frame. He looked peaceful, but also visibly worn out, and his cheeks were flushed. You had heard of an illness affecting humans, killing them in large numbers: the plague.
Gently, almost maternally, you brushed his hair away from his forehead to check his temperature. He was burning up with fever.
âWho is it?â he asked hoarsely, barely having the strength to speak. When he cracked his eyes open and saw you, you noticed his transition from drowsiness to alarm.
âItâs me. Iâm here. Calm down, youâre not hallucinating,â you murmured. Without wasting time, you searched among his belongings for the ointment you had made for him weeks ago, and without questioning it, you began to apply a layer to his forehead.
âWhat are you doing here?â
âThe whole town is talking about you. I couldnât help but hear, so I thought Iâd come to check if my protection from the gallows was still in place,â you teased lightly.
You were lying. You wanted to see him, and you were worried about him. But you werenât going to admit that.
âIâm just a little sore. Everyoneâs exaggerating.â
âHas anyone given you anything? Food, medicine?â
âNothing. I donât want anything.â
âOh, so you want to go out like a real martyr? Suffering helps you reach heaven, or thatâs what you people say, right?â
âWhy did you come to see me? How⌠how did you know where I live?â
He spoke with difficulty, struggling to string his thoughts together, likely because of the illness. He was completely vulnerable before you.
âDo you want me to leave?â you asked first. âBecause I can.â
âNo offense,â he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. âIt was just a questionâ
âThen, do you want me to stay?â
âIf you want to, then yes.â
Neither of you would back down. Resigned, you found a chair to sit beside the bed and rummaged through your bag for something that could help him. You had a loaf of bread meant for your cabin and some tea, still warm, that you had bought from a farmer. Despite the hardship you'd face, your will allowed you to offer both to the hunter.
âYou need to eat and drink something. Give me a few minutes, and Iâll prepare a potion that will help lessen the symptoms. With that and a little magic, youâll be well by tomorrow or the day after you wonât even remember being sick.â
âArenât you afraid someone will see you?â
âOf course I am. But I trust youâre not so treacherous as to betray me after Iâve risked coming here to help you.â
In that, you were right. And Reid knew it.
Without saying anything, you placed the food and the steaming tea on a little table beside the bed, then went to another area to start your work. Even though you didnât have all your ingredients with you, you could prepare something decent with the supplies in your bag.
When you returned to the room, he had already devoured half of the bread and nearly finished the tea. You noticed that he was struggling to stay seated, so you encouraged him to lie down again, ready to begin your work.
Reid watched closely as you moved your hands and the faint sparks that appeared each time you twitched your fingers. It seemed as if you were pulling something from within him, and the manâs curious nature emerged.
âWhat exactly are you doing with that?â
âIâm pulling the illness from your system. Your soul is infected, so I have to cleanse it.â
âAnd the illness? Where does it go?â
âI absorb it,â you explained. Seeing his disbelief, you continued, âMagic always requires you to give something. Thatâs why so many witches who use dark magic end up corrupting themselves. Committing evildoings requires absorbing that pain.â
âHave you ever used dark magic?â
Suddenly, the conversation felt kind, intimate, almost like that of a pair of friends... or even lovers. You were terrified but didnât let him notice.
âNo. I practice Wicca: nature grants me power, and I am at peace with it. Without harming others.â
âItâs fascinating to hear someone talk about it. We know how to capture, contain, and kill your kind... I mean, witches. But I never really thought about what you all practice or believe.â
His voice was soft, tired, while you continued your work.
âDo all of you have the same mark?â
His hand reached up to touch your forearm, and you felt a shiver run through your body. His finger rested lightly on your birthmark, a reddish spot.
âWitches who are born with magic do. Well, most of them. For those who turn evil, the mark darkens, and often their fingers start to turn black, as if they have soot on their hands. Itâs part of the transformation.â
âAnd is it true that youâre daughters of the devil?â
You let out a scoff, incredulous, wondering how many more lies had been told to tarnish your peopleâs image and turn you into monsters.
âWe are daughters of Mother Nature, descendants of the oldest magical lineages. We have nothing to do with Lucifer.â
âAnd how is a witch born? Do you need... to be intimate with someone of your kind?â
âI think thatâs a bit too personal of a question,â you murmured disapprovingly. With one final movement, you eliminated the sickness from his soul, and you felt that even his appearance had changed. âBetter?â
âA little.â
âYou need to drink this all day tomorrow and if possible, the day after. Dissolve it in enough water, and as the hours pass, youâll notice improvement. But the most important thing now is for you to rest.â
âAnd where are you going?â
âTo my cabin. You donât expect me to stay in town, do you?â
âThe night is dangerous,â he tried to warn, but you responded with a laugh.
âSo what? Afraid Iâll run into a witch?â
Reid didnât miss the teasing tone in your voice, and for a moment, he felt the same connection, that sense of familiarity you had felt before.
âYouâll be fine. Just follow the instructions and find me when youâre better,â you murmured, hoping that would suffice as a farewell.
However, the man stretched out his hand to stop you from leaving, gently taking your fingers. You correctly assumed that no witch had ever received such a soft touch from a hunter, and your breath caught in your throat.
âWhy do you insist on proving youâre good?â he asked, reflecting aloud. You looked puzzled by his statement. âYou saved my life even though I sought to take yours. You help me stay sane with your herbs, and now you come here and assist me even though no one asked you to.â
âAre you dissatisfied?â
âIâm confused. How am I supposed to capture more witches, knowing they could be like you? That they could be kind, sweet⌠that they could be so human?â
His monologue seemed more like he was trying to understand things himself, rather than asking you. But if he was recognizing you as human, was he suggesting he saw you as an equal?
You were walking on very thin ice. Ice that could easily crack under the heat of emotions... of passion, and something strange that was brewing inside both of you.
âJust donât do it,â you said, shrugging your shoulders. Without waiting any longer, afraid that his touch would overwhelm you, you pulled your hand away and walked toward the door. âKeep me updated. If you die, my protection dies too.â
You tried to make your words sound indifferent, but the truth was, they came out with a mixture of concern and plea. Reid felt a sense of pride, thinking that you were implying you needed him. That for one reason or another, you wanted him to stay alive.
âThank you,â he murmured, delirious. In your heart, you hoped for his recovery, or you would never forgive yourself.
You waved goodbye and then made your way to the door of the house. Luck was on your side, there wasnât a soul in sight. Cautiously, using those silent steps the hunter often complained about, you walked into the forest and disappeared into the undergrowth.
Throughout the night, perhaps due to fever or perhaps due to desire, Reid dreamed of you.
The months passed. Everyone was amazed at the sudden recovery of the hunter, and most attributed it to a miracle, not knowing that the magic they so despised had actually saved him.
Apparently, that second act of compassion on your part had softened his heart, and his visits became more frequent, almost always lacking any real purpose. He excused himself by saying that he wanted to learn more about witches, to see if there was a less violent way to deal with those who were evil. You had basically become the subject of his research.
Part of you was terrified at the thought that someone might discover your meetings or that he might dare to use against you all the information you were giving him. However, over time, the trust between you both grew considerably.
Titles had been lost somewhere along the way. Suddenly, you were no longer a witch, and he was no longer a hunter. You were simply two people, curious about discovering the secrets of the other's nature, beginning to learn that perhaps the beliefs you both had grown up with could be wrong.
Reid took it upon himself to warn you every time a hunt was going to start, making sure you didnât leave your place until it was safe, trying desperately to keep the hunters away from the section of the forest where you lived.
Time was the only culprit for you growing fond of him. You didnât want to; you never planned for it, but gradually, the feeling crept under your skin, and you couldnât avoid it. It was terrifying just to think about it.
âIt's beautiful, isnât it?â
Reid was mesmerized by the view in front of him. Your curious friend had asked if it was true that fairies existed since he had never seen one, and you promised to take him to meet them. So, one afternoon, you ended up at a stunning crystal-clear lagoon surrounded by trees, with colorful lights flitting from one side to the other.
âWeâve explored this forest so many times. How come Iâve never seen this?â
âSometimes, you humans only see what you need to see. The fairies are very protective of their territory, so not just anyone finds them,â you said, smiling slightly.
The idea of him being so excited to meet the fairies surprised you a lot. You had spent so much time with him that your perception of humans had inevitably changed too. Maybe not all of them were destined to hate magical beings⌠perhaps some could even grow to admire you.
But sometimes, you had mixed feelings about it. He visited you, protected you, trusted you⌠but he was still a hunter, wasnât he? He still helped send witches like you to their deaths.
Only the evil ones, he always justified.
âThose little lights⌠Are they them?â
You hummed in agreement and carefully extended your palms, hoping one of them would approach. When one finally did, Reid was able to see it.
Fairies, contrary to what many humans believed, werenât tiny, beautiful versions of a person with transparent wings. In reality, fairies were brown-colored creatures with moth-like wings and hair that looked like a birdâs nest.
âArenât they curious?â
âVery fascinating,â he admitted, a smile forming on his face. Lately, watching him smile had become one of your favorite activities.
He observed the scenery for a while, trying to register as many details as possible, while you gathered some plants that you would use to prepare potions or infusions.
Seeing you amid nature awakened a strange feeling in Reid. Kneeling, dressed in a white gown that gave you a certain aura of purity, your hair fell like a curtain over your face.
What was that feeling? Why did he feel this way, watching you so peacefully?
You said something, but honestly, Reid didnât hear you. He was too distracted by the glow of your face and wondering where the little flowers in your hair had come from. It was probably the fairies, he thought, during the time he hadnât been watching you.
âI asked if you know how to swim,â you repeated with a small smile âThere are some who say this lagoon has healing properties. There are nymphs, too, but I havenât seen any lately. Theyâre a bit possessive, to be honest.â
âNymphs?â he asked, astonished, which only made you laugh.
Without saying another word, you set your basket aside, and Reid was shocked to see you start taking off your dress, leaving yourself in nothing but a very thin undergarment that was too indecent to be considered proper. But he couldnât expect modesty from someone like you; after all, you had already shown that you didnât follow conventional rules.
You gracefully dove into the lagoon, and Reid watched you disappear into the water, only to resurface a few seconds later.
âCome on!â
Reid hesitated for a minute, but eventually, he gave in and joined you in the water under the same conditions as you: in his underwear.
âIsnât it wonderful?â you spoke again, floating on your back in the clear water.
You had your eyes closed, as the sun was shining directly on your face, and Reid tried to avert his gaze from the curves of your body, which were now visible through your soaked clothes. He felt slightly embarrassed by the improper thoughts that crossed his mind, thoughts he couldnât control.
âSwimming?â
âThe nature. The village is so gray and sad⌠everything here is better.â
The man hummed, as if to say that he agreed with you. Suddenly, he felt a couple of fairies fluttering around him, and the movement of their wings tickled him, making him laugh.
âDo mermaids exist?â
âThey do, but only in the open sea. You should be careful with the sirens.â
âWhatâs the difference?â
âMermaids can be benevolent if they wish. But sirensâ sole task is to seduce sailors and lure them to the bottom of the sea; they attract them with their song and beauty.â
âI didnât know there were so many creatures I had to worry about, not just witches. No offense.â
âOh, Reid. You humans are missing out on a whole world,â you teased, swimming right up to him âThe difference is that witches donât try to seduce you. Weâre a bit more practical.â
âThat would be a good strategy.â
âDo you want a witch to seduce you?â you asked, tilting your head slightly to one side to look at him.
âNo! I mean⌠using beauty to attract people with reason might be effective. I suppose.â
âUnfortunately, there arenât too many candidates who interest us. Most of them are grouchy, horrible old men. Although, well⌠there are always exceptions to the rule.â
Were you flirting with him? From the way you were looking at him, he thought it was entirely possible.
âAnyway, all it would take to make a man fall for us is putting a bit of love potion in his tea. It wouldnât be hard.â
âNow I understand why my tea tastes weird lately.â
There was something unspoken in your teasing, something suggestive, even sinful. Yes, because the idea that a witch and a witch hunter could have that kind of tension was ridiculous. Unthinkable.
You both stared at each other for a second, waiting for the other to say something, but that didnât happen.
âAre our things still where we left them? There are goblins in this forest too, and they tend to be quite mischievous.â
âThey are,â he quickly answered.
You smiled and, with a nod of your head, invited him to follow you, then began swimming in an unknown direction.
You chatted for a while as you swam, and little by little, the sky turned orange, signaling that sunset was approaching. You were in an area surrounded by grass, where more fairies sparkled around than Reid had ever seen before, making the atmosphere visually stunning.
âWe should head back. They might wonder where you are,â you suggested, glancing at the sky âTonight is a full moon. A perfect occasion for a human sacrifice, and I donât want any speculation.â
Your tone was playful, and just as he was about to respond, everything suddenly seemed to slow down. Behind you, there was a whirlpool in the water, and by the time he tried to warn you, it was too late. The natural phenomenon swallowed you up immediately, almost as if your body were in free fall.
Reid was seized by panic. His area of expertise didnât involve bodies of water, but he knew how dangerous a whirlpool could be, as it could cause you to drown.
Without wasting time, he dove underwater and spent almost a painful minute trying to grab one of your limbs to pull you toward him. When he finally succeeded, your body was heavy and limp, making him fear the worst.
When he managed to resurface, he swam with you to the shore, carefully laying you down. While lying next to you, he called your name several times, moving your head to get you to respond, but nothing happened.
âCome on! Wake up!â he urged, his voice filled with evident desperation.
Suddenly, he remembered some of his knowledge of the human body and, albeit fearfully, began pressing on your chest to try to expel the water from your lungs. Every few compressions, he leaned in to give you mouth-to-mouth, hoping it would be enough to revive you.
When he finally heard you gasp and saw you roll onto your side to vomit all the water, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.
âAre you okay?â
âWhat happened?â you asked, disoriented.
Reid was nearly hovering over you, holding your cheeks with both hands as if to assess your condition, his honey-colored eyes locked onto yours.
âA whirlpool. I tried to warn you, but it already had you.â
âOhâŚâ you exhaled, still coughing a bit. It took you a second to process it âAnd you saved me?â
âOf course. Who else would it be?â he muttered, almost in a reproachful tone.
A small smile crossed your lips.
âSo, is this going to become a habit? Saving each otherâs lives?â
It wasnât until that moment that you both became aware of how close you were. His wet body was pressed against yours, and Reid could feel your chest firmly against his. He was still holding your cheeks.
You stared at each other. His eyes, his beautiful and gentle eyes, were fixed on yours. Just breathing a little heavier would have allowed you to feel each otherâs breath, your noses practically brushing.
Once again, you faced a dilemma. You could have gotten rid of him a long time ago. Not once, but many times. And he could have done the same without consequences. But that was never your intention; it was useless to keep pretending.
And then, it just happened. It felt natural for both of you to lean in and close the distance, sealing your lips together without any need for explanation.
Your kisses said it all. They said: I care about you. They said: I was afraid I was going to lose you. They said: I know youâre not evil like the others. And they said: I know youâre not ruthless like them.
Suddenly, the contact didnât seem to be enough, and Reid positioned himself over you to continue kissing you, with no protest from your side. You could feel the heat beneath you, and he undoubtedly felt the same. His free hand firmly gripped your side, almost massaging the soft parts of your torso. You held him tightly, your fingers tangled in the wet curls of his hair.
And so, within a matter of minutes, you both gave in to the unrestrained passion that had been growing inside you for the past few months.
He was good to you, careful. You reciprocated, caressing him gracefully and whispering sweet words in his ear.
The thin ice you had both been walking on didnât even exist anymore. It had shattered at that moment, and all that remained was an intense fire engulfing the both of you.
You just had to be careful that a heat like that didnât turn into a pyre.
More Posts from Kitty-kei and Others
Thinking about being some sort of psychic of telepath- and when you sleep your subconscious bleeds into the parallel worlds, always when your mind in that world is active.
Turns out thatâs when your friends are fucking you dumb.
Well your clearly more than friends in these worlds, the way they so clearly worship the ground you walk on.
The first time it happened you thought it was a sex dream.
Your eyes opening to the pleasurable feeling flooding your body, onto to find todoroki shoto hovering over you, his thighs are outside of yours, holding them together as his hips rapidly fuck the in between, one of his hands rubbing aggressively on your clit. Your immediately gasping because- it feels so real- and oh god so good. He doesnât stop but presses his lips to yours, moving his fingers faster as he apologizes.
âCouldnât wait- mâ love. Feels so good.â ďżź
You had never cum that hard before. Your orgasm to much for your tired body, as you slowly slipped out of consciousness, allowing his lips to kiss up and down your neck while your fingers tangled in his hair.
When you woke again, you figured out what is was, and although you thought it was a one time thing, you couldnât stop imagining the things that happened between you and your former classmate. Your friend, had looked at you like you were some kind of goddess, to be worshiped and pleased.
It refused to leave your mind.
Until something replaced it.
About a week later, your mind slipped once again.
Your eyes fluttering open just as a thick cock slipped into you- so easily. Large hands held your thighs up, as your ankles rested on the manâs shoulders. The hands quickly slipped down and to the front of your legs, settling his cock fully inside you.
You were in to much of a trance to figure out who is was as their hands wondered up your body, groping and feeling you up. The thick cock that pressed against the deepest parts of you. Lips on your jaw grounded you as your eyes fluttered lightly. Quickly turning to see the male, a glasses-less face stared back at you with a soft look.
Iida Tenya?
Fingertips brushed through dark hair that threatened to fall in your eyes. Lips gently pressed against yours before he smiled at you before suddenly grinding his hips into yours, watching your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his cock pressed heavily against your cervix, desperately trying to break through.
â*groan*- gonna put a baby in you-â
And it kept happening.
Eyes opening on all fours with Kirishima Eijiro. Feeling his hands desperately grip your hips as he fucked you into the mattress.
âOooh fuck- pretty baby-â
Feeling intense pressure from Sero Hanta fucking your against the wall of a locked room somewhere, shushing you as you tried not to scream at how good he felt.
âShh-hhh got- hah- gotta be quiet sweetheart.â
Laying on the couch with Kaminari Denki on top of you as he desperately sucked on your tits. Marking the skin with hickeys and bite marks as he grinds hopelessly against your clothed pussy.
âMph- please- I- I wanna cum-â
Shinso Hitoshi who wakes you up between your thighs, hungrily sucking your clit while lazily pumping his fingers in and out of your wet cunt. Overstimulating you until heâs finally had his fill of your cum.
âJust one more- come on. Canât you give me just one more , kitten?â
Giving a boob-job to a pussy drunk Midoriya Izuku, whoâs on his knees as he holds onto the headboard. Your panties stuffed in his mouth as he cums on your chest and neck.
â*whining* please- please- please- please- oh god-â
Christening his new office at his new agency but getting fucking by Bakugo Katsuki on his desk. Burying himself in you over and over, violently fucking your cervix as you cum on his now stained wooden desk. Before finally riding his dick in his new chair, tears in your eyes from how tired your body is.
âHmp- oooooh shit- shit- shit- keep going- fuck!! Keep going , princess.â
Recreating porn videos with Monoma Neito, the lewd sounds playing out as his eyes zero in on the screen, going from eating you out to fucking your brain dumb, attempting to act out everything he sees. Did I mention that the videos were all around an hour long?
âCome on baby. I have a few more I want to try⌠you have to stay awake.â
Violently fingered by Shindo Yo as he holds you from behind, three fingers pumping as deep into you as they can go as his thumb holds your clit, his entire hand vibrating nonstop.
âItâs okay to cum, babe. Thats the goal here.â
Tamaki Amajiki who fully makes out with your cunt. One of his hands is morphed into a tentacle that sits unmoving inside you, yet bulges your stomach as you almost beg for cum. He gives soft kitten licks to your clit before fully taking a good portion of your lips in his as he sucks gently. Only to repeat the action over and over before he gets the desire to latch his large mouth over your cub entirely, leaving you empty inside as he sucks violently at your clit. He doesnât let you cum yet though, he goes through and then goes back to making out with your cunt, repeating the action randomly until your hit with a major orgasm.
âSo pretty, smells like you-, tastes so good, pretty.â
Getting fucked in mid air by Shoji Mezo, who stands at full height, two of his hands on your hips as your seated with him inside of you, another two are holding your feet in the air around his head, the last two doing as he pleases, fucking you harshly as you have to rely on him completely.
â*groans* stop squirming sweetheart.â
Dry humping at some hero event with Ojiro Mashirao. In the locked bathrooms as your dress is pulled up. Telling you not to cum as youâll ruin his suit and give you both away. Shoves the tip of himself in just to fill you with his hot, sticky, bucket load of cum as your thighs clench around him, trying not to cum yourself as he fixed you up, swiping the bit that leaked out from your pussy and pushing it between your lips before pulling down your dress and making your hair look good again.
âBreathe darling, Iâll make sure you cum more than enough at home.â
Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu groping you into cumming. Shoving you face first against the wall as he presses his body against yours. His cock hard against your ass as he flips your skirt up to nuzzle it between your cheeks. One of his hands groping your chest, hard, after your shirt if pulled up, stuffed into your mouth to keep up. His hand slipping under your bra and squeezes, before hardening his skin to hurt you, all while he grinds against your ass. He uses the momentum he got to force you to grind into his other hand, fully cupping your pussy and grinding the heel of his hand into your clit. Until your head falls onto his shoulder, eyes rolled back as your hips buck on their own to orgasm,
âGo ahead cupcake. Cum for me- use me to make yourself cum.â
and oh god- the most memorable one. The one that out of all the new experiences you felt. All the friends you couldnât look in the eye. He was the worst one. Because it was clearly so wrong.
Fuck.
Aizawa Shota.
Oh god you remember when your mind surfaced. Everything was still so vivid, more so than any other experience from your mind.
You surfaced right in front of him, about a second later her lips were on you. Your former teacher, your mentor. Your sensei.
Within seconds you were being pushed up onto something, his tongue slipping between your lips as he pushed himself between your thighs. You shoved his hair out of his face, allowing him full control as he pushed your back down against whatever your were sitting on, his hands sliding up your thighs to flip up your skirt.
God. He let you go, allowing your head to fall back and off the small⌠desk. Your desk, from UA. You teacher is fucking you in your old uniform, on your old desk. A loud moan left your lips as he slipped inside of you, since when was he so big?Your button up shirt was ripped open, untucked to give the male the most access to your body. He forced you on his cock over and over, lips staining your skin as you cried out. His pelvis grinding harshly against your clit as he fucked your cervix, fucking his cum into your womb over and over, not allowing you a break from the constant bullying. You didnât know how long it lasted. His grunt words a mix of praise and humiliation as he moved at a brutal pace. This was so wrong. He was so much older, he taught you in school. And yet your eyes rolled back as you came again, your body weak and the man showing no sign of stopping anytime soon.
âFeeling so good for me. I taught you didnât I? You should have more stamina than this.â
But oh- as the cherry on top of it all.
Your not the only one connected to these other worlds. Every last one of them has been having the same dreams you have, their just not in control of theirs.
served my duty as an autistic artist and made a bunch of autism creature reaction images
"a joy to have in class" aka This Child Will Not Be Diagnosed for at least Eight Years
My husband won Christmas this year.
But then if that wasn't enough, he got this.
Holy shit you guys.
good boy
nsfw!!! sub!xiao x f!reader
edging, breeding, (very) mild possessive behavior, public sex, praise kink, blowjob, handjob, voyeurism (sort of??), kitty is used as a nickname i think, heâs wearing the collar from this fic
Xiao is a good boy.
Always listens and behaves himself, letting you play with him however you wish. Especially after the collar incident, heâs very pliant, allowing you to do more because you both know he loves it.
Speaking of the collar incident, he hasnât taken it off since. Every time you see him now, that thick leather band is wrapped snuggly around his neck, with the four golden letters attached glinting whenever the light touches it. Purple splotches adorn the space all around the collar from time spent with you sucking on his skin while riding him until he cries.
His neck, you think, looks like a piece of art. You quite like it that way, and continue to darken the marks anytime they seem to fade.
Today is no different than any day. You go up to the top balcony at Wangshu Inn where he resides and expect to see him gazing out at the sky, looking as pretty as ever, and youâll get to spend the day together.
Except thatâs not where he is at all.
Walking out on him slumped back in a chair with that black collar around his neck and a hand pumping furiously at his cock was far from anything you thought youâd come across him doing, but there he is.
He notices you quick, eyes that are as wide as saucers staring up at you from his spot. You give him a small, teasing look and go to sit in the chair beside him.
Itâs quiet for a few moments - his body completely rigid while you relax into your seat - until you break the silence.
âArenât you going to show me how to do it?â Of course, you already know, but youâd never miss an opportunity to see Xiao take himself apart.
He does, his hand wrapping back around himself to give a few shaky tugs. Seeing the way his hand shook, he must be nervous - heâs never had anyone watch him get off before.
Once he starts feeling it, though - lips parting for small whimpers to fit out, grip around himself tightening while he moves it faster up and down his length - he seems to calm back down.
You watch him quietly, letting him enjoy himself a little, bask in the feeling of his hand jacking himself off.
Heâll look up once in a while, as if wondering whether youâre still there and looking, but immediately whips his head back down to stare at his hard cock when you meet his eyes.
What a good boy. So sweet and shy despite being taken apart by you nearly every time you visit.
Once his hips start canting upwards and his breaths begin to speed up you stop him, gripping his wrist in order to cease his movements. Heâs flushed and his chest rises and falls, hand falling down to his side.
You pat his thigh, âgood kitty.â
Itâs your turn now, both of your eyes glued to your own hand that turns into a fist and gives one single pull.
âA little dry, donât you think?â You question, and he makes a noise of confusion when your hand releases his cock. âNeed to get it wet.â
A look of realization flashes in his lidded eyes as he watches you lean down to spit onto the head of his length. It runs down the sides, all the way down to drip onto his balls. He shivers and whines at the sensation.
You take your job of getting him nice and slick a step further and lean the rest of the way down to take him into your mouth. Slowly, your head slides down, all the way until your lips touch the base.
âOh god,â he practically sobs, moving lightning fast to grip at the back of your head. âOh god oh god oh god oh god-â
You hold your head there as long as you can, his dick pushing against the back of your throat. Itâs a lot for him, his hips would be kicking into your mouth if you hadnât taken him all the way in already. A constant stream of moans leave him while you have your mouth around him.
After a quick decision to have a little fun, your head begins to bob up and down, tongue gliding wet along the side of his shaft. The hands that gripped at the back of your head pushed now, and his hips jumped to get himself further inside your warm mouth.
Again, you let him enjoy it for a while, his noises like music to your ears.
He must have been close from his first edge, and began to climb in volume, alerting you that he was getting close once more.
You indulge him, giving him sucks that had him crying out your name. He got really close this time, thighs and abdominals tensing with the oncoming orgasm.
The sensation of wet lips leave him right in that minute and he almost sobs. Your thumb and pointer go to squeeze the base of his cock, successfully cutting off his orgasm right before it came.
He falls back against his chair, eyes closed shut tight while he catches his breath and tries to go away from the edge. You rub comfortingly at the top of his thigh.
âYou got really close there, huh?â He gulps in another big breath and nods in response.
A praise leaves you before you even though about it. âYou held on so well. Good boy.â
His cock twitches at that and you grin, giving his thigh a pat.
Really, he is such a good boy. All for you, too - you love it.
When his heavy breathing finally devolves into lighter pants is when you choose to continue pleasuring him. With your hand in a circle shape, you hover right above his length.
âReady?â You didnât wait for a response, basking in the sound that rips from his throat when your fist slides down onto him.
This must feel much better than when he first jacked his cock, because the slide is smoother and allows you to create a fast rhythm that has his head falling backwards.
ââS good, âs so good.â He moans so prettily with your hand around him, crying out pleas for more whilst his hands find purchase on the arms of the chair.
âYeah?â You ask, closing your hold on him a little tighter. âItâs good? I bet youâre already close, huh?â
You didnât need to ask that, already knew he could probably come any minute - but the way he reacts to your words, the way he answers your questions makes you speak often.
âMnh-â Any response he had dies quickly. Glancing up to him, you see his mouth open, moans and words getting caught in his heavy breaths and pants.
âOh, look at you,â you coo, quickening your pace until his hips were fucking up into your fist and he was tensing with another oncoming orgasm.
Such a good boy, you think while your hand slips up the shaft of his wet cock.
âI can come this time? Please?â
Heâs so sweet that you feel a bit bad making him hold back longer. Your hand slows and desperately he shakes his head at you.
âNot yet, kitty.â When he attempts to make your hand speed back up by covering it with his and pulling it up, you let go of him completely.
âSo greedy today,â you tut, finger going to tap teasingly at his tip. âWe havenât even gotten to the main event.â
His head perks up a little at that.
Normally, you would straddle and ride him until the two of you were coming, but today you wanted to do things a little different.
Luckily you had brought a blanket along with you the last time you visited him. It had been night, a little chilly and so you had taken a soft fleece-y material blanket in your bag so you could relax on the balcony with Xiao without being cold.
It was folded atop the little table near where you sat, so you snatched it up and laid it out on the wooden balcony floor. It wouldnât be the most comfortable but it would suffice - youâre sure your level of comfort wonât matter once the two of you finally start what you had planned.
You shed your clothes, fighting a smile when you catch him staring from the corner of your eye. Your head tilts slightly when you turn to face him. âAre you going to join me?â
His eyes were wide and he looked a little distant, but he followed suit, fumbling out of his clothes and joining you onto the blanket you had laid out.
âKiss me,â you advise, pulling his head away from its spot against your neck, where heâd been sucking and biting at.
âI donât want to kiss.â
The way his eyes follow your lips tell a different story than his words. He always does that - claims that he doesnât want to kiss you, as if heâs playing hard to get. As if he doesnât melt against you right when you place your lips on his.
Unconsciously, his lips chased yours after you pulled away. You laughed into another kiss, murmuring âyouâre so needy,â against him.
He whines, not even denying what you told him.
âKitty,â you call him to attention. âYouâre going to do something for me, okay?â
He nods, enthusiastic to do whatever you needed. When you lean down onto your back and spread your legs, though, his brain malfunctions.
âYou want to fuck me?â
Xiao hasnât ever fucked you before. You were always atop him, grinding and riding his cock while he sat brainless and on the edge beneath you. It was somewhat of a reward to him for being such a good boy all the time - you were curious to see how heâd react.
A small shuffle forward, unsure of the new position that put him in some position of control. You widened the space between your legs more to accommodate him, having him slide forward all the way until his cock was resting on top of your cunt.
âGo ahead,â you encourage lightly.
You hear him take a small, steadying breath, before you feel the press of his head against your hole. Youâre wet and ready for him so he slips in without a hitch.
As soon as heâs inside, he canât seem to stop the noises he makes. âWet, nâ tight, itâs so good- I-â
His hips slid back and bumped forward and he let out a long moan.
âI wonât last. Iâll come, Iâll come.â
A small coo, reaching out to wrap your hand lightly around his neck. âNot yet, kitty. Can you fuck me?â
You donât need to ask him twice. The feel of your hot cunt around his cock is always so much for him, so once he starts thrusting you know he wonât last long.
âYou know,â you murmur into his ear, âi was thinking. You should come inside me.â
Even though he always come inside, the thought still has him whimpering out a plea.
âYou can breed me,â you add, âand make me all yours.â
That was new. He must like the idea of that, because he pistons in harder, faster, in a way that has your head falling back in pleasure.
âAll mine,â he repeats, âall mine.â
âMhm, all yours.â You regain your composure as best you can so you can continue speaking. âWouldnât that be nice? Breed and fill me up so much itâs leaking out. Do you want that?â
You wish there was a way you could record his reaction. He had paused half-thrust, whole body shuddering at the thought of doing what you suggested. It was so sweet, the minute he had to take so he didnât come right on the spot.
Already, he was close, voice high and loud while he keeps fucking you. You assume he isnât used to the work it takes to fuck into you repeatedly like this, but heâs doing so well that you give him some sweet praises that mix with your breathy moans.
Heâs such a good boy.
âCan I come, cân I come, please- oh fuck.â
âAw, you want to fill me up?â He whines high at that, collapsing into you while his hips work hard against yours.
You donât give him permission, letting him get desperate while you get closer to the edge yourself. For not being experienced in doing the fucking, he was hitting so good inside you, so good that you were clamping down onto his cock.
He was so loud you were surprised no one came up here worried and wondering what was going on - truthfully this has been going on long enough for them to have figured it out.
More please spew from him, and, a little out of it, you nod.
With a few harsh final pushes inside, he releases, and the feeling of his load inside you has you tipping over as well. The rhythmic pulses of your cunt around him, milking him of every last drop makes his hips kick and a pathetic little overstimulated sob leave him.
âMine,â he says breathlessly to nobody in particular - just voicing it.
What a good boy.
Fiery Familiarity - Prologue
hey yâall! i havenât written anything in a couple years, so please be kind if my writing isnât the best. this is going to be a multiple part series about secret firebender reader and their adventures with the gaang (and eventually zuko), so let me know if youâre interested in the premise. words: ~ 1.1k
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
When you were younger, things seemed so much easier. Before all the weight of the world came crashing down. Growing up a noble in the fire nation had its perks, especially when your father was one of Fire Lord Ozaiâs commanders. You spent a lot of time visiting the palace. While your father sat in what you thought were boring meetings, you got to run around and explore. Fire Lady Ursa was always so kind to you, it was hard not to enjoy your time there.
âNow, remember to be gentle, Zuko,â you heard a voice saying to the young prince. You peeked out from behind a pillar, watching as Lady Ursa knelt with Prince Zuko. They were crouched in front of a pond, though you couldnât quite see what they were doing.
You crept a little closer, trying to lean forward enough to catch a glimpse. This, however, only ended in you stumbling over yourself. You whined quietly, causing Ursa and Zuko to turn at the sound. You scrambled to your feet, bowing to them with an apology. No matter how kind she was, Lady Ursa was still a ruler of the fire nation.
âNo need to apologize, my dear.â Ursa hummed, giving you a smile. She looked down at Zuko, giving an almost teasing grin. âZuko, is there something youâd like to ask your friend?â
Zukoâs head whipped up to glare at his mother, a flushed pout on his face. He grumbled something before turning to you, eyes not quite meeting yours. âWould you like to feed the turtle ducks with us?â
Your eyes lit up, âokay!â You ran to sit beside Zuko, smiling when he handed you half of his loaf of bread. You sat side by side, chatting and laughing happily as you watched the turtle ducks paddle their little feet to get the bread. You were both so caught up that you failed to notice the way Lady Ursaâs smile faded as she watched as the commanders came out of the meeting.
âCome now children, I believe the meeting is over. It would be best if your friend gets back to their father. Run along now my dear, Iâm sure you can feed the turtle ducks together again some other day.â Ursa placed a hand on your back, gently nudging you in the direction of your waiting father.
You heard Ursaâs voice whispering before Zuko spoke, âb-bye Y/n. I hope to see you again soon.â His head dipped in a polite nod, a shy smile on his face.
You let out a giggle at his awkward disposition, giving a wide wave as you ran toward your father. You couldnât hide your smile as you walked toward the palace entrance. You threw one last look over your shoulder, watching as a flushed Zuko said something to his mother before he disappeared from view.
The next time you were at the palace, it wasnât as pleasant as the last few times. Youâd been busy feeding turtle ducks, practicing firebending, and running through the yards with Zuko. This time, the meeting was going to run into the late hours of the night, so Lady Ursa offered to let you stay in one of the spare rooms of the palace. Your father gratefully accepted, urging you to behave yourself and not cause trouble any trouble. You promised you would, taking your time to run and explore the palace. You had never truly realized how huge it was.
You took extra care to avoid Azula and her âfriends.â Truth be told, youâd never been much of a fan, you saw the way she treated others and how little she seemed to value the life of other beings. Plus, you loved the turtle ducks too much to respect her after you saw the way she threw things at them.
You ran through room after room, giggling to yourself as you looked at all the stuffy old people in the portrait room. You made faces, mocking them as you rushed to the next room. You hadnât realized where you were until you stumbled into a small alcove. You could hear voices coming from just beyond the wall.
âThereâs an Earth village here, they have abundant coal mines. If we were to take over their village, we could use those mines to power our ships, Fire Lord Ozai.â
Another man chimed in, âthey have earthbenders at the ready, but they are no match for the might of your armies. If you would allow me, Fire Lord, I would be honored to lead our warriors to victory for you.â
You heard murmured agreement before the Fire Lordâs booming voice reached you. âVery well, Commander Takei. You will lead our troops to overpower their forces and take control of their village. I will leave it in your capable hands.â
You could hear the grin in his voice when the commander spoke, âShould they resist, we will cut them down like the scum they are. Any who survive will be put to work in those very mines.â
You had heard enough. How could your father just sit back and agree to this? All those people⌠They were going to be killed, cut down and enslaved just for their resources? Why couldnât they just ask to share them, or at least make a deal? Your father had always refused to tell you what he did during those meetings. You had heard stories of the war and what the fire nation had done to the other nations. You never liked them, you thought they were just dramatics meant to entertain the children and reinforce how powerful the nation was.
You could feel yourself beginning to panic, fear clawing its way up your throat as you stumbled through the halls. You had to find your room, you had to get out of here. You couldnât stay with people who would do things like this. You loved your father, but you couldnât stand by and watch this happen.
As soon as you reached your room, you began packing your bag. You shoved as much as you could into it, realizing youâd need food if you were going to make it anywhere. You waited until dark before you crept into the kitchen, packing a small bag of food. Just enough that they wouldnât notice, but it would at least last you a few days. You tucked it into your belt, peeking out the door. You began to sneak out but caught sight of someone.
It was Zuko, you could only assume he was out for a midnight snack. You could tell he saw you, even with his eyes bleary from sleep. They widened slightly, and you ducked down another hall. Just before you left, you heard a voice call out.
âY/n?â
You couldnât help the tears that fell as you rushed out into the night.
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Sevika x f!reader
Synopsis: You are worker in the brothel who had recently gotten attached to your client, Sevika, after countless nights of more passionate sessions. Until they suddenly stopped, leaving you with an aching heart.
A/N: Honestly forgot I had this in my documents, but thought I should post it (since we all love Sevika).
The first time she came to you, she was all easy smirks and smooth charm, her prosthetic hand cool against your waist as she pulled you onto her lap. Sevika had the kind of presence that demanded attention, the kind that made others shrink in her shadow or lean in closer just for a taste of her heat. You had been the latter.
She paid well. That was all that mattered at first. A client with deep pockets and a reputation that ensured no one would bother you when you left her room, skin flushed and legs weak. It was a simple arrangement: pleasure given, coin exchanged. Nothing more.
But then she kept coming back.
And you let her.
At first, it was nothing but indulgenceânights filled with laughter and the scrape of her teeth against your throat, her hand gripping your thigh in a way that made your stomach coil with something dangerous. She made you laugh, too, in a way few did. There was something intoxicating about her presence, the roughness of her voice, the heat of her gaze when she dragged it over your body like she was memorizing you.
Then something shifted.
One night, she stayed after. No rush to pull on her coat, no tossing coins onto the nightstand with a smirk before disappearing into the Undercityâs streets. She lingered, arm draped over her stomach, watching the ceiling like it held answers she wasnât ready to share. You didnât ask. But when she turned her head and found you watching her, something in her expression softened.
"What?" you asked, your voice quieter than usual.
She exhaled, long and slow. "Nothing. Just... comfortable."
The next time, she brought you a drink, one she swore youâd like. You sipped it from her fingers, let the burn of it settle behind your ribs, and tried to ignore the warmth curling beneath your skin at the way she watched you. She stayed again that night, but this time, she talked. Stories about fights she had won, men she had bested, but also things she shouldnât have sharedâmemories from before she was who she was now. You shouldnât have asked, but you did. And she answered.
It got harder to pretend you werenât waiting for her. Harder to ignore the way your heart stumbled when she walked through the door, or the way your body leaned into her touch like it was instinct rather than necessity, like it had been there since your first breath.
And then came the night she kissed you slow. Not the usual rough, greedy clash of lips and teeth, but something deliberate, something aching. Something that made your fingers twist in the fabric of her shirt, made you press closer, desperate to chase whatever this was before it slipped through your fingers.
"This ain't what you do," she muttered against your lips, almost like she was warning you. "Ain't what I do either."
You knew that. You should have let it go, let her leave before the line between transaction and intimacy blurred any further. But instead, you whispered, "Then what is this?"
Sevika didnât answer. Instead, she pulled you back in, and for the first time, she made love to you rather than just taking. Slow hands, lingering kisses, eyes that held something more than want. It was terrifying. It was thrilling.
When it was over, she didnât leave. She laid beside you, arm draped over her stomach, staring at the ceiling again. The silence stretched between you, thick with unsaid things. You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow, and ran your fingers through the short strands of her hair.
"Are you staying?" you finally asked.
Her eyes flicked to yours, unreadable. "Do you want me to?"
You swallowed, throat dry. "Yeah."
She let out a soft breath, something close to a chuckle but not quite. "Then Iâll stay."
You knew this had become something dangerous. Because you had let yourself believe, even just for a moment, that she might stay for good.
As attachments grew, you slowly stopped giving much passion to your job with other clients. You knew you needed the money, but the feeling no longer sat right in your chest. It only felt right when she came every night, when her hands traced over you in a way that no longer felt like a simple transaction.
But then, the visits slowly stopped.
At first, they became shorter. A hurried touch, a quick drink shared between you before she left, murmuring something about business. Then entire nights passed without her at all. The ache in your chest started as a whisper, then grew, a quiet panic every time the door opened and it wasnât her.
One night, you waited longer than usual, fingers curled in your lap, stomach twisted in knots. The creak of the door had you looking up, heart leapingâonly for disappointment to crush it just as quickly when you saw it was just another client. You forced a smile, but it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
Days passed. Then a week. Then two.
She was gone.
You told yourself you shouldnât have expected anything else. That this was inevitable. That she was never yours to keep.
But it didnât stop the tightness in your chest, the sting behind your eyes as you sat in an empty bed, wondering if she had ever truly meant to stay at all.
As you dwelled on it further, the confusion gnawed at you until you couldnât take it anymore. You sought out Babette, the woman who ran the brothelâthe woman who had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. She was the closest thing to family you had, and if anyone knew what was going on, it would be her.
"Sheâs still coming around," Babette said, her gaze softening in concern. "Just not to you, sweetheart.â
The words hit like a gut punch. You blinked, feeling the air leave your lungs. "What?"
"Sheâs been with the others," Babette continued gently. "Sometimes just one. Sometimes more than one. But not you."
Your stomach twisted into something sharp, something ugly. You willed yourself not to cry, not to let the tremor in your hands show. But Babette saw it anyway. Her brows knit together as she reached out, fingertips grazing your arm in silent comfort.
"Maybe itâs better this way," she murmured, her voice almost hesitant. "You know how she is, sweetheart. She doesnâtâ"
"Itâs fine," you interrupted, your voice too quiet, too fragile. You forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "I was just curious. Thatâs all."
Babette sighed, her hand fully resting over yours now, warm and grounding. "You donât have to pretend with me. I know what she meant to you."
You swallowed, hard, but the lump in your throat didnât go away. "She didnât mean anything to me. She was just a client."
The lie sat bitter on your tongue. Babette didnât call you out on it, only squeezed your hand and nodded, her expression unreadable. But her silence told you she didnât believe it any more than you did.
Whatever you thought you had with Sevikaâit had only ever been a game to her. You were nothing more than a warm body, a convenient distraction. And when things started feeling too real, she had sought out others, made sure to remind you of exactly what you were: an option, not a priority.
The belief that you could be loved for more than your body had been foolish. And now, the ache in your heart was proof of just how deeply you had let yourself hope.
Days passed, each one bleeding into the next in a haze of exhaustion and quiet heartache. You went through the motions, welcoming clients with hollow smiles and empty touches, but the passion, the illusion, was gone. It didnât feel right. It didnât feel like anything at all.
You tried not to linger on the thought of her, but it was impossible when every shadow in the brothel seemed to whisper her name, when every quiet moment left space for memories you wished you could carve out of your mind.
Eventually, you couldnât take it anymore.
âBabette,â you said one night, standing in the doorway of her office. She looked up from her desk, her sharp eyes softening the moment she saw you.
âCome in, sweetheart,â she murmured, setting down her pen. You hesitated, shifting on your feet, trying to find the right words. She noticed. Of course, she noticed. âWhat is it?â
You swallowed, forcing down the lump in your throat. âI need a few days,â you finally said. âJust some time.â
Babette leaned back in her chair, studying you the way a mother does when she already knows the answer but waits for you to say it anyway.
âYou havenât been yourself,â she said simply. âNot sinceââ She didnât say her name. She didnât have to.
You dropped your gaze to the floor. âI just need a few days,â you repeated, quieter this time.
She sighed, then stood, walking around the desk until she was in front of you. A warm hand cupped your cheek, gentle but firm. âYou take all the time you need, baby,â she said, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. âBut donât let this break you. You hear me?â
You nodded, though you werenât sure if you believed it.
That night, you left the brothel and retreated to the small apartment Babette had helped you get years ago. The space felt both foreign and suffocating all at once, too quiet, too empty. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the floor, willing yourself not to cry.
This was supposed to be temporary. A few days to pull yourself together, to forget.
Because you had to forget.
Sevika was just a client.
She was never supposed to be anything more.
And yet, the ache in your chest told you that she had been.
And that she still was.
Sevika stepped through the familiar doors of the brothel, the heavy scent of perfume and liquor thick in the air. It was the same as alwaysâsoft laughter spilling from plush lounges, the low murmur of conversation, the occasional moan slipping past velvet curtains.
But it didnât feel the same.
She had been here almost every night, distracting herself with fleeting warmth, with lips that werenât yours, with the burn of whiskey numbing the gnawing in her chest. She convinced herself it was working.
Until now.
Her feet carried her straight to the bar where Babette stood, drying a glass with slow, practiced movements. The moment she saw Sevika approach, something flickered behind her sharp eyesâsomething knowing. Something unreadable.
Sevika didnât care to decipher it. She exhaled sharply, leaning one forearm against the counter.
âIs she available tonight?â she asked, the words coming out rougher than she meant.
Babette didnât answer right away. Instead, she set the glass down and folded the rag over her shoulder. Only then did she meet Sevikaâs gaze, her expression unreadable.
âSheâs not here,â Babette finally said, voice even.
Sevikaâs brow furrowed. âShe got a client already?â
âNo.â A pause. âSheâs been taking time off.â
Something in Sevikaâs chest tightened.
âTime off?â She frowned. âSince when?â
âA few days now.â
Sevikaâs fingers drummed against the counter, a growing unease curling in her gut. You never took time off. You needed the money, just like everyone else here.
âWhy?â she asked.
Babette just looked at her. A slow, knowing look, one that made Sevika shift under the weight of it. And then, to her surprise, Babette let out a dry, humorless chuckle and shook her head.
Sevikaâs eyes narrowed. âWhat?â
âFunny, you askinâ that,â Babette mused, picking up her rag again, wiping at a spot on the counter that wasnât even there.
Sevikaâs jaw tightened. âJust tell me.â
Babette stopped wiping, meeting her gaze dead-on. The look in her eyes was almost pitying. Almost.
âYou really donât get it, do you?â she said, voice blunt.
Sevika stayed silent, waiting.
Babette sighed through her nose before finally giving her the truthâthe one Sevika hadnât let herself consider.
âShe got too attached,â Babette said, folding her arms across her chest. âAnd now sheâs trying to wear that off.â
The words hit Sevika like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs.
Too attached.
Trying to wear that off.
For a moment, she just stood there, staring, unable to process what she had just heard. Because that meantâ
That meant you had felt it too.
The thing she had been running from, numbing herself against, drowning in booze and other women just to avoid facing.
You had felt it too.
And instead of dealing with it like she had, you had done the opposite. You had left.
Sevikaâs fingers curled into a fist against the counter. The guilt, the frustration, the regretâit all slammed into her at once, a crashing tide she wasnât prepared for.
Babette watched her, eyes sharp, knowing.
âYou asked,â she said simply.
Sevika swallowed, her throat dry. She pushed off the counter, turning toward the door without another word.
She needed air. She needed a drink. She neededâ
She didnât know what she needed.
All she knew was that she should have never asked.
Because now, she couldnât ignore it anymore.
Now, she knew the truth.
And there was no running from it.
Sevika stood outside your apartment door, exhaling a slow breath. The hallway smelled of damp wood and old cigarette smoke, the dim lighting flickering overhead. She had stood in front of many doors beforeâsome with intent, some withoutâbut this one felt different. This one made her hesitate.
She had spent days, weeks, running from this, burying herself in distractions. But Babetteâs words echoed in her head, stubborn and unrelenting.
âShe got too attached.â
Sevika clenched her jaw and lifted her hand, knocking twice.
A long pause.
For a moment, she thought you wouldnât answer. Maybe you were asleep. Maybe youâd left. Maybe you wouldnât want to see her at all.
But then, the door creaked open.
And fuckâ
You looked wrecked.
Your hair was undone, tangled from nights of restless tossing. The clothes you wore were loose and rumpled, as if they had been thrown on days ago and never changed. And your eyesâpuffy, red-rimmed, still glossy with the remains of sleepless nights and silent tears.
Sevika had seen you in every state imaginableâlaughing, breathless, flushed from pleasure. But never like this. Never broken.
Her stomach twisted.
For a second, you just stared at her, like you werenât sure if she was real or just some cruel figment of your exhausted mind. Then, slowly, your expression hardened, and you began to push the door closed.
Sevikaâs hand shot out, gripping the edge before it could fully shut. âWait.â
Your lips pressed into a thin line. âWhat do you want, Sevika?â Your voice was hoarse, quiet, so unlike the teasing lilt she had grown used to hearing.
She swallowed, forcing herself to meet your gaze. âI just need to talk.â
A humorless chuckle escaped you, void of warmth. âTalk?â you repeated. âLike how you suddenly stopped coming to me? Like how youâve been fucking around with everyone else?â
Sevika flinched at the bitterness in your voice. She had earned that.
You scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to close the door again. âNo. I canât do this, Sevika. Justâjust leave.â
Panic shot through her.
Her hand pressed harder against the door, a crack of desperation in her tone. âPlease.â
You froze.
Sevika never begged. Not for anything. Not for anyone.
But she wasnât too proud to now.
âPlease,â she repeated, softer this time. âJust let me explain.â
Your fingers trembled slightly where they gripped the doorframe. You didnât move for a long moment, weighing your choices, weighing her.
Then, with a quiet exhale, you stepped aside.
Sevika took a slow breath and walked in.
She didnât know how to fix this. She didnât know if she even could.
But she hoped that she could at least try to.
The silence stretched between you as you both settled into the living room. You sat on the couch, curling your legs under yourself, arms wrapped tightly around your torso like you were trying to hold yourself together. Sevika hesitated before lowering herself into the chair across from you, elbows resting on her knees.
For a moment, she said nothing. She just looked at you, at the exhaustion on your face, at the way your fingers picked idly at the hem of your sleeve, at the hurt she had put there.
She exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand down her face before finally speaking.
âI didnât mean to hurt you,â she muttered, voice rough, tired. âThatâthat was never my intent.â
You scoffed quietly, shaking your head. âReally?â
Sevika winced but didnât argue.
She let out another breath, staring at her hands as she tried to put words to the mess in her head. âIâthis isnât something I know how to do,â she admitted. âFeelings, loveâany of that shit. Itâs never been something I was meant for. The things Iâve done, the life I live⌠it doesnât make me the kind of person who gets this. Who deserves it.â
Your brow furrowed, but you stayed quiet.
Sevika clenched her jaw. âI was scared,â she admitted, the words almost foreign on her tongue. âScared of what it meant. Scared of how easy it was with you. How much I wanted it to be real.â
She finally looked up, and the weight of her gaze settled heavy between you.
âI thought if I put distance between us, itâd go away. That I could just bury it, move on.â A humorless chuckle left her. âGuess I fucked that up too, huh?â
You swallowed, shifting slightly on the couch. âYou couldâve just talked to me,â you murmured, voice quieter now, the sharp edges dulling.
Sevika nodded, dragging a hand down her face. âYeah. I shouldâve. But I was so caught up in running from it, I didnât stop to think about what it was doing to you.â She let out a slow breath. âI didnât realizeââ
She stopped herself short, like saying it out loud would make it too real.
But then, she forced herself to look at you again.
âYou liked me back.â
Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, looking away, suddenly finding the floor far more interesting.
âOf course I did,â you muttered, voice thick. âI still do.â
Sevikaâs chest tightened.
She had spent weeks drowning herself in anything that could distract herâother women, alcohol, fights that left her knuckles bruisedâanything to push away the feeling she didnât want to face.
But now, sitting here, watching youâ
She realized she had made a mistake.
A huge one.
Sevika took a deep breath, steadying herself before she stood, crossing the short distance between you. Her movements were slow, hesitant, like she thought you might flinch away. And at first, you nearly didâyour body tensed, your fingers gripping the fabric of your sleeves as she approached.
But she didnât force anything.
Instead, she reached out, calloused fingers brushing against your jaw before cupping your face with a gentleness you hadnât expected. Her thumb traced over your cheek, hesitant, almost reverent.
âLet me fix this,â she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. âLet me make it up to you.â
Your breath hitched, eyes flickering up to hers, searching.
âLet me love you back.â
Her words cracked something open in you, something raw and aching. The weeks of confusion, of longing, of heartacheâall of it threatened to overwhelm you. You could see the desperation in her eyes, the regret, the unspoken plea for another chance.
Slowly, your body relaxed.
Your hands moved on their own, fingers brushing over the cool metal of her prosthetic before gripping the front of her vest, pulling her closer.
Sevika exhaled shakily, her forehead resting against yours for a moment before she tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was nothing like the ones before.
It wasnât rushed or hungry.
It was soft. Careful. Like she was afraid you might shatter beneath her touch.
You melted into it, arms looping around her neck, pulling her impossibly closer. The kiss deepened, her other hand splaying against your back, holding you as if you might slip away if she let go.
When she finally pulled back, her lips hovered just over yours, breaths mingling.
âI wonât run again,â she promised, voice rough with emotion. âNot from you.â
You searched her face, the sincerity in her expression, before nodding slightly.
âThen donât.â
And when she kissed you again, you knewâthis time, she wouldnât.
A/N: Kinda noticed the amount of repeating phrases in this but I didnât proofread and wrote it when I was sick so ignore that and hope you enjoyed it (and again, sorry for being gone for so long)!
BLOOD ORANGE (full)
Description: You get your period during your adventure and anxiously wonder⌠can Astarion tell? Why is he acting like that? Looking at you like that? Smut ensues. (Takes place before youâve ever slept together.)
Rating: Explicit, +18, MDNI
Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader
Warnings: anxiety, sexual tension, mild blood, period sex, vampire biting, blood drinking, teasing, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, porn without plot, fluff and smut
Wordcount: ~7k (~3k just smut)
Read on AO3 or below the cut âĽ
Something discomforting interrupts your sleep.
Sensations filter into consciousness - stars, cricketsâ songs, the hard earth beneath you, and the smell of your now ashen campfire. A dull ache and heaviness spreads down your back and through your pelvis. It's a familiar feeling; it's just your period, though that isnât much consolation at the moment. It still might as well be a stab wound.
You shift your weight with irritation and curse to yourself. Of all the times for this to happen, now was particularly annoying. During the day, you could've found something to distract yourself. But now, youâre expected to sit still among all your peacefully sleeping companions with nothing to dampen the pain. It's already starting to feel like knives carving into your body from the inside.
When this happened weeks prior, you were able to pull Shadowheart aside and she was happy to cast a spell to alleviate the pain. Part of you would like to ask her for that again now, but you don't get the sense youâre close enough with her to wake her at this hour. It wouldn't be the end of the world... but your pride and anxiety insist that it's just not an option. She did, however, give you a blood-catching cloth that you could use for next time. That was nice of her.Â
You clutch at your sacrum when another painful sensation rakes through your insides. You ache to change clothes and be alone so you can groan and stretch in peace. There's bound to be a clearing in the forest not far from here where you could do that. Carefully pulling some supplies from your pack, you excuse yourself to go find such a place.
After hobbling through the woods for a few meters, the perfect spot comes into view. The trees are dispersed widely with large patches of soft grass creating space between them. Dew is already starting to blanket the ground. This will do. Undressing from the waist down, you notice a small stain of garnet blood has already marred your underwear. You change into clean clothes and put the blood catching cloth in place, wincing and groaning dramatically as you do so.
Finally, you lie down in the cool grass and release a deep breath, finding some comfort in at least being alone. But the cramps still painful and debilitating. Stretching usually helps you ease the gnawing and clenching of your muscles, so you cycle through a few positions for several minutes. You end up on all fours, arching your spine and dipping your navel toward the earth. You sigh with relief and find yourself almost growing sleepy again . . .
"Having a midnight romp, are we?"Â
A silken voice hits your ears and sends your head spinning behind you.
Astarion stands at the edge of your forest sanctuary. He gently leans against a tree with his arms loosely crossed. He wears his usual camp clothes and a simpering expression.
"Ah, it's just you." Your bristles lower when you register the voice and see his familiar face. You rearrange yourself into a more dignified seated position. "Stalking me then, are we?"
"I wouldn't call it stalking so much as just following a loud, clumsy woman a few paces outside of our camp. Curiosity got the better of me," he says with some playfulness.
You smile a little. Quips like that used to annoy you, but you've grown quite fond of his sarcasm and banter these past few weeks.
"Well, you have found the loud, clumsy woman. Sorry if I disturbed your rest. I tried to be quiet," you say.
"Please, it's not like I need any more beauty sleep," he teases.
You smirk at him but say nothing. Your insides recoil a bit when you feel the temptation to agree. Truthfully, you've developed something of a 'crushâ on him, and it's reaching a certain point where youâre not always sure how to respond to his silly or suggestive comments. His roguish good looks and vicious aura don't help; he is indisputably attractive. Dangerously so.
But, a love affair is the last thing you want to further complicate your tadpole predicament with, especially with someone who can be so unpredictable. At least, this is what you tell yourself when the thought arises.
Besides, you don't want to stroke his ego too much. You've already been letting him feed from you nearly every night under the guise of 'I need you stronger for battles,' but truthfully⌠you enjoy it.
You enjoy the rush of adrenaline and the atmosphere of closeness that comes when his lips wrap around your neck. The sharp shock of pain that melts into a cold pleasurable tingle in your veins. You also like seeing the aftermath play out in his features. It always seems to have a very restorative and rousing effect on him. The way his mannerisms and expressions change after drinking from your body; It does something to you that youâre not quite willing to admit.Â
"You know," he says, forced to break the silence. "I was a bit surprised you didn't invite me for a bite tonight... Not that Iâm here to beg!" His hands raise in mock defense and he smiles sheepishly. "I just... well, you may have spoiled me a bit."Â
A short laugh escapes you and you glance away shyly. "It's just been a busy day. I didn't mean to leave you hanging." This was the truth. "Besides, Iâm not feeling very well so it's probably for the best. I likely wouldn't make a very good meal."
"Oh, I don't know..." he says trailing off. The corner of his lip twitches.
You notice something's a bit weird about him tonight... weirder than normal. Heâs smiling but it seems off - an edge behind his cool exterior. Over these past few weeks, you've seen so many different expressions on his face but this one you donât recognize. Heâs also never sought you out to ask 'why not tonight?' when you didn't extend an invitation in the past. And it seems out of character for him to do anything that could be interpreted as desperation.
"What's got you feeling so poorly?" he asks almost sweetly.
"Just some stomach cramps," you say flatly and divert your gaze again. Annoyed he's making you elaborate on a potentially embarrassing situation. You regret mentioning feeling unwell in the first place.
In a tone that doesn't sound all that genuinely concerned, he sings, "Oh dear, I hope you're not the first of us to come down with some nasty food poisoning."
There's an ounce of breathiness to his voice - provocative as usual. But normally his torso and arms sway about expressively when the two of you chat. Those sweeping arms and gratuitous body language are now replaced with just the tiniest lift of his heels from the ground when he speaks. His arms folded over his waist, tightly, unmoving.
His stillness unnerves you. It also seems out of character for him to offer help... or pryâŚ
You notice his eyelids are soft but his stare has so much potency behind it.
A sharp realization finally pierces your mind. You do recognize this look.
Gods above, so caught up in mulling over your infatuation and reading his cues that you didnât even considerâŚ
Does he⌠does he know youâre bleeding?
Can he smell you?Â
Of course he can.
He's like a shark when there's a bloodied scene nearby. He always makes a point to mention it so the rest of us will be on guard during our travels. 'There's blood in the air.'Â
You recognize this look from the first night he tried to bite you â suppressing his urge to devour you.
Ice in your veins.
You swallow thickly.
Detaching yourself from the thought as quickly as possible, you huff and try to squash the present discussion with some good old-fashioned beating around the bush.
 "Okay well... it's not a stomach cramp per say, um⌠I donât really think you would relate. The important thing is I can promise it won't come to affect you too," you say curtly.
You can feel yourself blushing, your chest a bit tight with anxiety. If he didn't sense it before, then he must know now. This topic usually provokes some disgust and awkwardness from people who don't experience it, but you've never given thought to how a vampire would react. Which seems ridiculous now, considering you've been letting one feed from your neck nearly every night for weeks now. Your mind screams the last part silently.
"Ah, say no more," he says politely, seeming to understand your hints. "Forgive my nosiness."
Youâre relieved the reaction isn't an unpleasant one. "It's fine," you reply quickly. "I just needed to find somewhere to groan in peace."
"You're sure it's not ceremorphosis?" he jests, feigning nervousness. He knows it isn't, but it lightens the mood. "You'll have a hard time convincing Lae'zel that it isn't."Â
"Do githyanki not have periods?"Â I ask with genuine curiosity.
"Oh I have no idea. And I do not intend to ask."Â
You'd find it funnier if you weren't so uncomfortable, but it does clear the last fragments of tension in the air. As if on cue, a sharp pain suddenly hitches your breath and makes you wince. Now that the hellcat's out of the bag, you don't bother masking your discomfort.
Astarion clicks his tongue and quickly apologizes when he sees your face contort. He takes a hesitant step towards you and then seems to root himself in place again.Â
âItâs okay," you say through pinched features. âA nuisance. Iâll be fine by morning.â
"I suppose I should give you your privacy then,â Astarion drawls out rather slowly. His eyes skim up and down your body intentionally before he turns to leave. He wears a similar smile to the one that befalls him after feeding on you â the same one youâd never admit does wicked things to you.
"If I can be of any assistance to you tomorrow, please... let me know," he says over his shoulder. âSweet dreams~â
~
The next morning, Shadowheart aids you. She insists you can wake her next time. She won't mind.Â
As you venture forth, you canât help but think back to the last time you had your period during your journey and how Astarion might (mustâŚ) have smelled you then too.
It was early into your travels, no more than 24 hours after surviving the nautiloid crash. You remember cursing to yourself about the timing, but there arenât any memorable details beyond that. Any aches and pains were likely overshadowed by the daunting threat of ceremorphosis and energy spent getting to know your new companions.
You try to specifically recall Astarion's demeanor during those few days, but it's hard to remember anything outstanding. He was terribly reserved for the better part of a week when you started travelling together. âWhatâs there to tell? ...Itâs all rather tedious.â Only after his vampirism was exposed did he seem to strike up more conversations and wear more emotions on his face. But you do eventually remember an exceptionâŚ
His façade seemed to crack when you stumbled upon a gory scene of bloodied gnolls and hyenas. His demeanor was suddenly strange and turbulent when you stood amongst them. Surrounded by piles of mutilated flesh and impossibly wide puddles of blood, even your less-attuned senses were saturated with the metallic aroma. He was trembling, gasping almost through each sentence. Desperate to move on and away from the area once weâd killed them all.
You remember thinking in the moment that he seemed more shaken up than you wouldâve expected. And his comments about the overwhelming smell of blood... it seemed to disturb him more than anyone else â even though heâd given off the impression he was no stranger to violence and killing.
Now, you realize it wasnât the carnage that disturbed him â but his own frenzied hunger.
The thought sends a shiver down your neck. There are some scaled similarities to his behavior then and his behavior now when he feeds from you. He all but vibrates with energy before supping on your blood. He does a decent job at hiding it, but you still notice his breathing is ragged and his hands tremble when he goes to drink from you. And afterwards, he sways and laughs generously as though he's single handedly polished off a bottle of wine. It affects him like a drug, and you canât help but wonder what it must feel like. You canât help but wonder if itâs stimulating in other ways too.
~
When you're back at camp for the night, you have some red wine with the others to wind down. Two glasses in, you realize youâve avoided talking to Astarion as much as you normally would today. A bit of guilt drips through you when you walk past his tent. He stands there now, the moonlight framing his elegant shape while he lazily thumbs through âThe Roads to Darkness.â Your eyes linger too long on the notch between his collar bones and the veins that swim up his forearms. Your feet bring you closer to him even though you have no plans of what to say.
He notices you, smiles, and closes his book to greet you. âHello, my dear.â
 âGood evening, my friend~â Youâre surprised at your own confidence, then you remember the wine.
âYou seem in high spirits,â he cocks an eyebrow. âPerhaps I should have imbibed some of that Blackstaff after all.â
âOh, you didnât have any?â Youâre surprised. He usually partakes.
âNo, Iâm afraid now might not be the best time to let my inhibitions~ get the better of me.â He looks at you suggestively. âMaybe in a few days⌠when Iâm a little less distracted."
Youâre once again confronted with the embarrassing reality that he might (must⌠your mind insists. He mustâŚ) sense the blood between your legs. It seems like he wants you to know it too. The thought shoots an arrow through your abdomen â pleasure laced with fear. Youâd be lying if you said the thought of Astarionâs mouth moving below your neck didnât occupy your mind at times. Would he enjoy tasting your blood mixed with the nectar of your arousal?
You give in to the thought momentarily, leaving you at a loss for words. Asking him exactly what is distracting him fills you with too much uncertainty to speak.
After several more silent seconds the only thing that comes to your mind is an invitation. A familiar one.
Hesitation cleaves between your mind and mouth. The offer you used to extend so effortlessly now sits heavy on your tongue. All the bravado the Blackstaff gave you earlier is gone in an instant. A thousand thoughts echo in your head at once before you feel the words finally spill from your lips:
âYou can feed on me tonight if you want.â
He holds your eyes calculatingly for a moment before replying in a hushed voice. "Oh darling, only if you're sure you're feeling up to it. I wouldn't want to put you out, considering your condition." His tone feels genuine, warm even.
"Iâm sure,â you say in an elevated pitch. Your mouth is so dry.
"Alright... well you know, we could meet in that same little plot you sniffed out last night. If you're still having trouble sleeping, of course."
You do not give yourself time to speculate what this could mean. The thought of being alone with him again makes your heart flutter violently. You feel as if youâre floating away from your own body when you hear yourself say, "That sounds good."Â
He smiles. A glimpse of his tongue pressed between his teeth. "Until later then."
~
You lie awake in your bed roll, eyes glued to the night sky. Your companions have surely all fallen asleep by now. It feels like you have waited an eternity.
You try to talk yourself down from the heady excitement bubbling inside you. There's no reason to react this way â youâve done this plenty of times now. We're just doing it a different spot tonight, you tell yourself.
Nothing is going to happen. Youâre just reading into things too much.
At no point in your conversations with Astarion did either of you express a want to be intimate, yet you feel the palpable anticipation of that possibility. How ridiculous. Youâve made assumptions about his intentions because of your little crush. Thatâs all. A fleeting interest, and one he likely does not reciprocate. Â
Your anxiety surely has you overthinking his reaction to your period as well. This kind of blood is probably completely different from the fresh blood heâs always sniffing out anyway. Itâs not like youâre bleeding out from a stab wound⌠even though it may feel a bit like it.
You glance at Astarion lying in his bedroll across the campfire. He lies curled up on his side so you canât see his face â odd for him to sleep in that position. You climb to your feet quietly and make your way to the forest clearing. Your body feels much lighter than it did the evening before, disorienting-ly so.
It only takes a few moments to reach the grassy area from last night. Perhaps youâre walking a little faster than usual.
Attempting to relax, you elect to do more stretches until your companion arrives. It will help clear your mind and relieve any lingering muscle tension the clericâs spell no longer helped with.
Before too long, Astarionâs footsteps can be heard approaching. He makes a bit of noise on purpose to alert you of his presence this time. Youâre relieved he doesnât choose to sneak up on you again. He catches you uncurling from a stretch when you see each other.
âWell, well. You remind me of a cat. So languid and flexible,â he says.
âIâll take that as a compliment,â you laugh.
âYou should.â
So forward. Your insides turn over at the affectionate notion and the sultry tone of his voice. It seems to undo all the self-talk you endured earlier.
âYou remind me a bit of a cat too,â you tell him. âNighttime prowls, stalking your prey and sneaking up on themâŚâ Your tone is playfully pointed.
âOh please! I didnât startle you again tonight, did I?â he scoffs.
âNo, just an observation. A compliment.â You canât help it.
This earns a smile from him. âThatâs very kind.â
The air waits expectantly for you to break the silence next.
âShould weâŚâ you motion awkwardly toward the ground. Going about things this way is new.
He knows your meaning and doesnât force you to finish the sentence. He simply graces you with another devilish smirk and follows your lead.
~
Strewn out on the forest ground is a blanket you brought from camp. You lie back on it and go to offer your neck, turning your nose to the side. Your heart beats quickly and your mouth secretly waters in anticipation. He kneels beside you and supports himself on his hands. But while descending toward you he pauses halfway down. You feel his silence and stillness stretch on longer than expected.
"Perhaps we should give this pretty neck of yours a break," he says quietly.
Surprised (and disappointed), you start to turn your head to face him, expecting him to pull back so your eyes could meet. Instead, he comes in close as if he still intends to bite you, blocking your movement.
Lips hovering just above your neck, his breath blooms down your chest. His upper body brushes against your breasts ever so slightly, sending warm electricity down your midsection and scattering through your abdomen. You stay melded together there for long seconds.
Does he mean...?
"What are you suggesting?" you finally ask breathlessly.
"Don't pretend you don't know." He hisses and peels himself up to find your eyes. Thereâs a small edge of urgency to his voice. "The - tsk⌠"
"...The scent of blood on you has driven me mad the past two nights," his voice wavers.
Of course...
You almost want to apologize, but the fact that heâs just confirmed your suspicion is staggering. You feel as though all the bloodâs been drained from your body in an instant, and he hasnât even bitten you yet. Youâre frozen, grasping for words in vain while you stare into his crystal red eyes.
"And itâs not just the smell of your blood,â he continues. â-intoxicating as it is. I can't help but notice how much I've... enjoyed your company lately. I've taken many moments to wonder what it would be like to⌠enjoy more of you."
The words send desire rolling through your body, surging deep in your chest and spilling into your sacrum. Astarionâs never shied away from directing flirty comments at you, but his tone is often flippant, bordering on disingenuous at times. Now though, his words feel truthful, vulnerable.
Itâs exciting to hear him acknowledge the chemistry youâve begun to share. The heavy trepidation your attraction once carried suddenly feels much lighter, replaced with a small spark of confidence. The forest feels as though it's condensed around you, holding you both in an impenetrable cradle â quiet, shielded from the rest of the world. Itâs safe to name your desires and share them here.
And Gods, to know without doubt that heâs also wondered what it would be like to fuck you⌠it fills you with such a renewed lust for him; you canât deny it anymore.
"Do you wonder that too?" he asks gently.
You swallow and whisper hoarsely, "I do."
He shifts his weight closer to you again. A spike of anxiety jolts through you when you remember what started this conversation â the smell of your blood⌠an alternative to your neckâŚ
An obscene vision of Astarionâs face licking blood from your cunt flashes in your mind. Your hips curl instinctively at the thought. A piece of your mind shatters from the possibility of it becoming a reality.
"Then, what say you? Are you inclined to get a little closer? As soon as tonight?â he presses further.
Wordlessly you place a hand on the side of his neck, thumb stroking the corner of his jaw. His skin is surprisingly soft and cool to the touch. A mixture of excitement and unease floods your senses. It's so surreal to be here with him now when you've pushed away many daydreams of a moment like this.
âI would like that,â you admit.
He smiles at your affirmation and closes the gap between your lips. Arousal erupts from your veins once again when he kisses you. His lips are soft but with a tempest behind them. The desire in his kiss is tinged with melancholy, quiet desperation crashing against you. His tongue caresses yours in ways nobodyâs has before. Both responding and leading. Moving along you like water currents.
He sinks into you to deepen the kiss. Your body responds in kind, free hand finding his waist and legs seeking to tangle with his own. Your bodies brushing against each other for the first time is almost too much to bear. If something as simple as this elicits such a strong reaction, you can hardly imagine how the rest of the evening will affect you.
His legs move between your own, his hips persuading your thighs to open. His body is so cool against yours, burning hot. The contrast makes you ache to press your core, the hottest place, against him. He must read your mind because he lets his full weight fall into you so your temperatures can mix. Itâs now that you can feel heâs hard, pressed between your legs. He moans lewdly into your mouth as he steals your heat. The combination of stimuli begins to transform your arousal. Thoughts and time begin to slip from comprehension.
Your hands snake underneath his shirt to run your fingers against his midsection. You remove each otherâs clothes and steal kisses between each garment. His hands skate up your obliques and trace circles around your breasts, making you arch into him like, well, a cat. You laugh to yourself.
He begins to slide down your body. You instantly miss having his pelvis pressed against your own. He drags his lips, tongue, and occasionally the tip of a sharp canine along your exposed breasts and midsection. His hands expertly unloop your belt and tug the pants off your thighs.
Gods, are we really doing this? The cool night air enveloping your bare skin sobers you a bit.
âStill sure youâre up for losing a little more blood?â Astarion whispers huskily.
You nearly choke on your own spit at the audacity.
âYou really have a gift for disarming comments,â you tell him.
âJust making sure weâre on the same page,â he says while thumbing at the hem of your underwear.
 He must notice how tense your muscles are because he pauses.
âAre you comfortable?â he asks earnestly.
âI⌠youâre not grossed out?â you wince through the question.
He blinks at you in disbelief. The concern in his features morphs into amusement.
âDarling⌠Iâm a vampire. Did you forget?â he jokes. "No, I am not âgrossed outâ. I may not know what it feels like, but I do know itâs perfectly natural andâŚ" His voice lowers, "it's something Iâve always been quite intrigued by the possibilities of, if Iâm honest with you.â
Yet another indecent sensation spreads through your body at these words. How interesting. Relief, pride, and curiosity tangle themselves in your mind and you canât help but start to smile.
âIs that all youâre worried about?â he asks as if there was something else heâd expected.
You nod, âYes. I want this.â To reinforce the words, your body language relaxes, open and willing for him. Youâve suffered in anticipation of this for nearly 24 hours and itâs time to give in.
âPlease,â you whisper, driving the point home. He seems to like this.
âGood,â his voice hums and his dark smile returns.
His fingers return to caress your body and hook over the waist of your panties. He tugs at the hem, up, towards your bellybutton, skillfully maneuvering the fabric to tease you and manipulate your flesh without directly touching. You sigh and tilt your hips to encourage him. He peels the garment off agonizingly slowly, savoring every moment more of your skin comes into view, until theyâre stripped from your legs and discarded entirely.
He strokes the pads of his fingers in circles over your mons veneris. They skate closer and closer to your lips, driving you to insanity. Your hips strain into him, begging for his touch to finally reach your clit.
Instead, his hands slip under your knees to lift and bend your legs. Powerful emotions of arousal, embarrassment, and euphoria crash over you all at once when he pulls your knees apart and looks down at you. You can feel the cool air against your wetness now, unsure how much is blood or transparent arousal. His jaw hangs open slightly, and you swear his pupils dilate to an unnatural size as he takes in the sight. The entire position makes you feel deliciously vulnerable. You tremble under his gaze and fight the nagging instinct to clamp your legs shut as he hovers over you. Even harder you must fight it as his elbows come to the ground and his head lowers down between your thighs.
His mouth encloses around you slowly and deliberately, as if lacing his lips around a wine glass. He presses his tongue firm against your wetness, immediately releasing a long, debased groan that shatters any of your remaining insecurities.
You've already imagined what his voice must sound like during sex (it's impossible not to) but the reality of its sound is more guttural and feral than expected. The sound waves resonate through your body violently and the pleasure is so great you think you might be dead.
Alas, you are very much alive, lying on the forest floor with a vampire between your legs.
Astarion laps at every curve, everywhere the colors red and pink have stained your skin and further. His tongue moves with purpose and heavy pressure, seeking to consume every bit he can. Teeth skim against your soft flesh every so often, but never hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make you feel like an orange peel he seeks to scrape every last morsel of flesh and juice from.
He clutches at your ass cheeks while he feasts on you, thumbs pulling your center apart. Heâs apparently licked your thighs and lips clean, because now he only pushes his tongue inside you, fucking you mercilessly with it. Every so often, he pauses this onslaught to pet your clitoris with the tip of this tongue, making your hips spasm and core tighten. The rhythm he teases you in makes you wetter and wetter. Itâs the perfect vehicle to coax more blood from your pussy and into his mouth.
He removes himself for a moment and leans forward to kiss you again, lips slick with saliva and slightly swollen from friction.
He tastes of so many things at once. Saturated in the copper cherry flavor of your blood and the seasalt of arousal, your tongues meet again and again. All this on top of Astarionâs own lingering scent, herbal and citrusy, your senses spill over with colorful stimuli.
âStill having any doubts, my dear?â he whispers through a kiss.
âNo. Gods, no,â you answer.
"I could stay latched to you all day like this..." he pants against your lips. "I would clean up every. drop. for you." His voice drips with lascivious melody.
"What's it like?" you ask excitedly.
He grins at your question. He loves that you would ask him this.
"Intoxicating,â he breathes through his teeth. âYou are the most sinfully delicious fruit I've ever tasted. As if your blood alone didn't already tempt me."
"Is it enough?" you inquire. "âŚenough blood, I mean?"
"There's no such thing" he says. "but⌠I have an idea of how to encourage more out of you." His fingers graze down your belly and knead at the skin of your pelvic bone again. The motion indirectly pulling the hood of your clit back and forth.
You moan unabashedly and your spine contorts, begging once again for his hand to go lower. This time, he obliges and uses two slender fingers to tease the contours of your vulva. When they slip between your folds, a silent cry hitches in the back of your throat. He probes at your entrance gently at first, pushing just barely deeper than before with every motion. You writhe against him, trying to remind yourself to breathe.
Normally you would savor such attentive foreplay, but right now it's torturous. Itâs overwhelming to even watch what heâs doing; your eyes keep fluttering shut. Every time his fingers delve deeper your desire swells greater. When his knuckles finally brush against your ass, he curls his two fingers inside you over and over, quickly. They rub firmly against your sensitive upper walls, dragging more slickness out of you. Â
The sudden pressure and intensity in his movements surprises you. It moves you to open your eyes just long enough to find his own. His gaze holds you down, you feel almost charmed, petrified, dominated. Unable to look away. Rutilant eyes stare deeply back at you while he possesses you â they hold so much intensity and desire, all while focused on you.
It leaves you a bit awestruck, to have him both create and witness your ecstasy. To know you. The moment feels unexpectedly intimate until his hypnotic eyes finally release you.
His mouth joins his hand, immediately working your clit with persistence while his fingers pump inside you. You gasp, and a laugh of disbelief bubbles out of you. The combination of touches makes you feel delirious. His tongue roves over you mercilessly and his hand quickens its pace. Every muscle in your body is taut and frozen in fire. Your eyes find the stars when you feel yourself start to come apart on his fingers.
"Please don't stop," you cry quietly.
He doesn't. His fingers continue to stretch your walls and thrust against your core, tongue quick and unceasing against your pert clit. Tears well up in your eyes as the intensity of sensation builds to a white crescendo. It falls over you like glass shattering in slow motion. He groans against your pussy as you come, undoubtedly feeling it clench desperately around his hand. Itâs so intense you canât help but cry out and grasp wildly at his back. You donât care if your voice reaches the campsite. He slows his movements to keep rhythm with you as you ride out your orgasm.
âSuch a pretty voice you have,â he removes his fingers and kisses the inside of your thighs.
He makes sure you're looking when he brings his digits to his mouth and licks the red stain clean from them. Thereâs no hesitation in the action, he laps your blood from his fingers as if it's honey, or spilled wine. He licks your center again too, purely for his own gain now, just for the taste.
âGods,â You shudder at his touch, still hypersensitive from the climax he wrought through you.
A little less clouded, your vision sharpens on his form. You admire how striking he looks below you. Shirtless, broad shoulders holding the weight of your thighs. Pale moonlight painting every muscle. Your eyes pathing from his sharp collar bones down to his toned navel. He looks so beautiful. Already, you desire him again. More of him. Your eyes land on his cock, still erect and straining against his trousers.Â
âThat was amazing,â you finally manage to say. âI donât think Iâll ever have another experience quite like that one.â
âI certainly donât think so either,â he looks proud of himself. âBut must we speak of it in the past-tense already?â
âYouâre right. I misspoke.â Your foot gently drags over his clothed erection, in case your interest isnât clear.
He looks at you knowingly and brings a hand to his waistband.
âOh, good,â he smiles and unwraps himself from the fabric. "Youâll tell me if itâs uncomfortable, right?"
You nod. âJust start slow, if you can?â
Your eyes widen at his exposed length. His cock is longer and thicker than you'd expected, which is saying something since your imagination was already kind to him. Filthy anticipation coils inside of you.
âOf course. I already intended to take my time,â he whispers lowly.
He hooks his palms under your knees and pulls you apart for him. His body looms over you and the head of his cock grazes your entrance, teasing you with every microscopic movement. He rocks against you in little pulses that make you whine and twist impatiently. He starts to enter you, a little deeper with each push, teasing you just like he did with his fingers, driving you insane.
You canât take much more, mewling underneath him while he torments you. Fully withdrawing with every stroke, the tip of his cock re-penetrates you again and again in an agonizing tempo. Shallowly fucking you with disciplined control. Before long though, you see his expression start to lose composure.
He straightens up to a kneeling position and beckons you to lift your lower body up to meet him.
âFeet on the ground, darling,â he orders you sweetly.
He scoops you up by your ass and levels your entrance with his cock again. Your upper back still lies on the ground, your body in a half bridge pose, fully exposed to him.
He hoists you against him and sheaths himself inside of you, finally forgoing the teasing. You nearly scream at the sudden weight of him inside you, stretching the entire depth of your walls. His hands pull you up and down on his cock, thumbs tickling the inside of your hipbones where he grips you tightly. You lose yourself again as he fucks you, overwhelmed with elation and disbelief.
Astarion groans obscenely. You notice heâs transfixed on watching himself impale you, gradually painting his cock with your cordial. His eyebrows furrow seriously and his mouth falls slightly open, taking in the sight. He seems to lose himself too, and you find yourself with your full back against the ground again, his body covering you, still inside you.
âYou still smell so irresistible.â A hand finds the base of your skull and clutches at your hair. He pulls and forces you to bear your neck for him. It sends a little jolt of fear through your body initially, but you relax into his grasp after a moment.
âCan't get enough?â you ask, just barely managing to show some cheek. He continues to fuck you gently through the exchange. Were his strokes any closer together, it wouldnât be possible to form words.
âNever,â he hisses against your ear.
His lips graze down your throat, pausing to hover just above where he always drinks from you. âMay I?â
âDo it,â you plead.
His fangs tease your skin for several more strokes before they finally drive through you, and as soon as they pierce your skin he fucks you faster. His cock beats against the back of your walls again and again. He moans desperately into your neck while he bleeds you. Youâd call the sound pathetic, were it not for the way his teeth held you down like a predator killing its prey. Your cunt clenches around him tightly in response, mirroring his jaws.
The wound to your neck is just barely endurable at first, but it starts dissolving into pleasure almost instantly. Now coupled with the adrenaline of having sex with him, the feeling is near mind-altering. It hypnotizes you. Possesses you.
He drinks from you hungrily, sucking and gulping you down every few seconds. The wet sound of him swallowing can be heard right underneath your ear. You both whimper frantically into each other, ecstasy building quickly. His cock starts to hit you harder, stretch you wider. He unlatches himself from your neck, gasping for air. Blood drips from his lips and down his chin when you see his face. His pupils are blown out. It looks as though heâs trying to form words but they wonât escape his mouth.
He only manages a, âGods⌠IâmâŚâ before stuttering out a loud groan, abandoning his thought and dignity. You can feel him throb inside you eagerly, struggling against your muscles squeezing him in as he climaxes. He thrusts into you wildly a few more times before shuddering and cautiously falling into you.
His body covers you for a short moment, your chests rising and falling into each other as you both catch your breath. He then rolls himself off of you and lies by your side. Â
âApologiesâ he breathes out heavily, wiping blood from his jaw. âI lost myself there for a moment⌠Iâm infertile, so no need to worry. But I should have told you.â
âThatâs okay,â you whisper. Youâd barely considered it - too drunk on pleasure to think rationally.
The sweet earthy aroma of the dampened grass drifts into your nostrils. Lying there naked, sticky and sweaty, anxiety slowly starts to creep back under your skin. No doubt this could complicate things going forward⌠especially if your attraction goes beyond the physical like you suspect.
You hear a wet sound beside you and turn your head to see Astarion licking his palm. His eyes meet you while he sucks at the skin between his thumb and index finger. He smiles and, to your surprise, gently pulls you into him. The smell of savory herbs and citron tickles your nose; his scent is already growing to feel familiar.
âIâd like to share a little more of your heat, if itâs alright with you,â he says quietly. His lips brush the hairs on your head.
âIâm happy to share,â you say through a smile, secretly delighted to be curled up in his chest.
His fingers trace your back lazily and you reflect on the past two nights (mostly this one). As amazing as tonight has been, the fear of your feelings growing stronger from this gnaws at you. But you gather the courage to push your insecurities aside. Testing the waters with a little suggestion:
âProvided we donât die from being turned into mind flayers or some other horrors, I think we should do this again next month.â
You feel him smile against your crown.
âWhy wait until next month?â
~END~
Thank you for reading :>
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