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hoshigray · 3 months

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hey!! I love you works=) Can I request a fem!chubby(optional)reader x gojo,where gojo is her mean roommate and after a night when he had fun with a random girl and reader couldn't sleep because of it she confront him and he shows her how much he loves-hates her (NSWF if you can,when I say love-hate I mean he loves her,but she is not afraid to attack his ego so he finds this quite annoying) I truly understand if you don't want to write and I respect your decision =) I just say to try my luck and see if you like the idea

lol well, I'm lucky to have time to indulge in this idea, so why not? hope i did this right...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x roommate! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader can be read as chubby or not - implied mutual feelings/pining - kissing/making out - teasing - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and licking) - doggy style + missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - Gojo being a bit whipped for you - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - implied usage of alcohol - mention of saliva/drool. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“God, you can be such a fucking dumbass…Who told you to drink so much?”

“Listen–hic–I was just being the life of the party. Plus, gotta impress the ladies~”

“Oh, for God’s sake, just eat your damn mocha bread.”

Lying on the living room couch with you sitting on your knees on the carpet, tending to his drunken state, was not something Satoru Gojo had planned. It was supposed to be a chill night at the club with the guys – Geto, Nanami, and Haibara – yet he somehow found his way to the dance floor and danced like a rock star, drinking like a fish from taking up all the shots bought by all the women infatuated by him. What can he say; he could never refuse the ladies, even if he doesn’t like alcohol.

However, he’ll admit he might have overdone it and puked in the club bathroom for a solid 20 minutes before his friends decided it was time to go. You opened your apartment door to your roommate being carried by Haibara and Geto, the dark-haired men apologizing for the inconvenience at the late hour after dropping their friend on the couch and leaving you to deal with the tipsy fool.

Although, with him dealing with the raging headache and horrid acid from the vomit earlier ruining his tastebuds, Gojo would say this wasn’t all too bad. Why? Well, now he has his cute roommate to look after him like they always do.

Although he feels a bit bad that you were up to see him at this ungodly hour, watching you sitting beside him and feeding him his favorite snack to ease his subsiding intoxication made him feel warm. The little pout on your face as you break apart pieces of the mocha bread to feed into his mouth, your gorgeous eyes examining him to see if he’s okay, and your cute pajamas comprised of an oversized shirt and some shorts. If it meant being treated by you like this, the snow-haired man figured he ought to get drunk more often.

The only problem was you nagging at him like he was a child, grabbing for his hand to hold the glass of water on his own. “Drink; I don’t want you puking on my carpet.” Yup, you were his roommate, all right.

He rolled his eyes while taking a sip. “You’re supposed to be talking all sweet and slow to me here because my head’s going at sixty miles an hour. Aren’t you supposed to be sympathetic to the weak?”

You scoffed. “Oh please, you are not weak; you’re just dumb enough to drink whatever thing some pretty girl gives you.”

“Hmph,” He puffs at you, evoking your eye to twitch. “Well, maybe I should just go back to the venue and find that pretty lady who was dancing with me all night!” He takes a bite of some more mocha bread. “I’m sure she’d be nice enough to minister to my drunk self.”

That was a lie. There was a lady he was dancing with, the same lady who hung out with the guys at the club and had a good time with them. The woman was a wild and entertaining girl, Gojo will admit. But in all aspects, she was just there; she was nothing. If anything, Gojo wished that you were there instead of her. You were busy with work, opting to sit this out and maybe go with the guys the next time.

And although he didn’t try to argue (outside of pestering you in giving in and coming along), he couldn’t get his mind off you while he was away. You were all he could think about, wondering if you were okay or if you remembered to eat dinner. Or just imagining you being with him, wearing something nice and letting loose around his friends – around him. Fuck, just visioning him and you dancing together would’ve been such a treat and probably saved his poor liver and stomach from all the alcohol.

Instead, he’s spending the last moments of his late-night high with you, who should be sleeping. You say to him, “Would you?”

He draws his brows upwards. “Hmm?”

“Would you go back?” he now notices the look on your face, as if you’re going back and forth with something internally. “I mean, probably not because I’m sure whoever has to deal with you can’t feed you your favorite bread.”

He hums, taking note of your expression and your fingers playing with the edge of his plate. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Nanami called me earlier when you were getting a little too wild, like, five shots in,” The number throws the man in a whirlwind; damn, I had more than five? “And he told me you were so tipsy and touchy that you couldn’t stop asking about me. Like, ‘Where’s Y/n’ or ‘Man, I wish Y/n was here; they love this song.’”

Did I say that? “I said that?” A curt nod is given to Gojo, and he presses his lips to a thin line. Ah, shit.

“All I’m saying is,” you continue with a pout. “It would be pretty scummy of you to say you’d wanna hang with another woman and then turn around and worry about me, for whatever reason.”

Sky-blue eyes observe yours downcasted to the plate with the sweet bread. He couldn’t ignore how cute you avoided his gaze — it’s what prompted him to say this: “…There is a reason.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t worry about you for nothing,” you watch the white-haired man bring his upper body up from the couch with his elbows. His face is now a foot away from yours, close enough for you to see the earnest glint in his eyes under the soft, warm glow of the ceiling lighting. “Nothing is for ‘whatever’ reason if it’s with you.”

Your brows furrowed together, eyes avoiding Gojo’s gaze. “What could that reason be, I wonder. You’re just saying that so I can stop being up taking care of—“You couldn’t finish that sentence; how could you when Gojo brought a hand to your chin and prompted you to look back at him? Azure eyes pierced right into yours; it made your heart skip, and your body dare not to move.

“You want me to prove you wrong?” He asks with a neutral expression, hard for you to gauge what’s on his mind. You know him; he likes to poke fun or try to get you riled up. So, this shouldn’t be any different (aside from him holding your chin).

You huff, “Go ahead.”

And it was there where you should’ve chosen your words carefully.

“Khaaa! Ohhh! G–Gojo, stop…! Y’r fingerss—Ahhaaa!”

“Aht, aht, don’t do that, angel. Open those legs up for me…Fuck, you’re so cute…Mmm”

It took you aback when Gojo stood up from the couch, took your hand, and walked you from the living room to his room. Confusion on your part turned into immediate shock when he brought you into a kiss. With wide eyes and thoughts going at a million miles per hour, you instinctively tried to brush him off you. But one kiss turned into two, and two kisses turned into three. And before you know it, you sink into the feel of his pillowy lips, a leg situating between yours while your hands come around his neck.

And the surprises don’t stop there; Gojo then hoists you up — yes, picks you up! — and brings you to his bed to continue laying his lips on you. Your shaky moans resulted from his kisses trailing from your chin to your collarbone, the humps of his lower half chafing the groin of your shorts. The twitch of your chasm happens involuntarily — how embarrassing! Especially when he distracts you by claiming your lips again so he can pull down your bottoms and panties.

And that’s how we end up here, you crying out for him as he kisses and nibbles on your ear while his fingers play with your wet folds. “—Ahahhnn!! G–Gojo, no..! Not there…Hnnfff…!”

“You say that, but you’re not letting my fingers go, huh.” He chortles before kissing your cheek, stuffing his middle finger to aid his forefinger in scraping your inner walls. The wails that escaped your lips were so unlike the stern persona he’d usually deal with; they provoked him into wanting to hear more. “Damn, didn’t know my little cute roomie could make such cute sounds. Let me hear more, ‘kay?”

Cute!? The adjective had your cheeks increase in heat with the twitch of your southern walls clamping onto Gojo’s digits. “Hoooh! Q–Quit playing with me, Gojo; just stop going so fa—Aaahhhh!!”

From your protest, his fingers go even faster. And worse, he sneaks his thumb to your clitoris, where he shocks your body with swipes and grinds to the delicate pearl. Too fast for you to chew on your lip to shield the creams, “Hey now, I said call me by my name.” He looks at you with flushed cheeks and soft, hooded eyes — way too late to blame the alcohol for such effects. But you can see the passion that’s burning inside those blue orbs of his. “Don’t be stubborn on me, pretty girl. What’s my name, Y/n?”

God, first cutie, now pretty girl; how many names was he gonna call you to drag you deep into your pool of embarrassment? “Haahhh, Satoru, please,” your body jerks to the jabs of his fingers hitting inside you.

“Heh, good girl. My little angel…” Gojo kisses you again, sucking on your tongue with a teasing vigor before lifting your shirt to display your body to him in its whole form. Your breasts spill open for him to claim a nipple into his mouth for a quick suck. He then travels down your abdomen, playfully nibbling on your soft skin and flesh for you to jerk. His hands massage your inner thighs after spreading them further.

His face then comes down to your bare cunt, blowing on it to make you squirm. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to look at you for so long. You made such a gorgeous mess for me.”

“Go fuck yourself, Gojo,” you peer down at him, only for him to beam with a mischievous smile. Damn, you cursed his dimples for making him look like a childish bastard!

“No thanks, I’m more interested in fucking this cute thing.” He snickers to himself before descending further in between your legs and having you gasp sharply at the feel of his lips on your slit. His tongue swishes between your folds and sucks in your leaking substances for him to savor, the wet muscle teasing its entrance of your vagina before inserting inside.

You almost choke on your spit, crying out for him to stop and trying to close your legs. But that proves worthless, Gojo’s hands holding them to your chest for him to feast on you properly. You’re forced to accept the laps of his tongue, and it has your ears ringing with the obscene sounds coming from the commotion.

“—Ohoo!! Satoru, stop!!” You bring a hand to his head to grab a tuff of his snow-white hair. It does nothing, only making him eat you out even more unsteadily. His nose occasionally bumps into your clit, your other hand gripping the sheets. “Stooop it, I’m gonna cummm, if you keep….!”

“Go ahead, baby,” he withdraws his mouth, slipping his fingers back inside you to massage euphorically. Your eyes roll up when he licks on your clitoris. “Let’s see my pretty angel be messy for me.”

You couldn’t prevent yourself from following his command even if you wanted to, the fingers and his wet muscle all doing their part in making sure you give in. And so you do, releasing the reins to let your orgasm overcome you, clamping onto his fingers as it pass through your body through the shocks and your erotic howls.

And Gojo eats you up through your sensitive nerves and all, his hands not letting you writhe out of this as he stuffs his face into your cunt. Your body jolts with every passing shock until it relaxes. And even then, Gojo still carries a naughty grin when lifting his face and licking his digits. “Look at that, princess. Making my fingers all pretty.”

The display made your ears hot. “Don’t play with it like that!”

“Why, I’m gonna play with you a whole lot more, anyway,” he says while kissing your thighs. He surprises you with a bite, making you huff in surprise. “Gonna play and mark you all mine all night long.”

And he was not lying. Everything happened so fast; one moment, you’re lying on Gojo’s bed with him, eating you out until you come from his mouth two times. The next moment, your pajamas are stripped off you and thrown to the floor along with his.

“—Noohhh!! Ohhh, fuuuck, ahh, ‘Toruuu, yer goin’ too fast…! Slow down!!”

“Hnngh! Ahhhh, easy for you to say with you gripping on me like crazy…Holy shiiiit, you feel so good…”

Now, you two in the nude are fucking like animals. The hour is way past late for noises to disrupt your neighbors, yet here you are on Gojo’s bed with your face down to the sheets and your ass propped up for him to drill his length deep inside you. He’s caged you beneath him, his strong arms on either side of you while his hips thrust into your plump ass and thighs. The sounds of the action were so raunchy to the ears, something straight from a porno.

The two of you have been going at it for about two previous rounds; your body is already sensitive and sweaty from this. You want to be tired – your mind is trying to tell you you’re exhausted. However, it’s impossible to think of anything else with Gojo hammering his dick into you like no tomorrow. Excessive come leaks from your cunt down your thighs, a white ring forming around the base of his shaft — evidence of your sexes union.

“Ohhh Jesus, this ’s too much…Nnnphh!” The clap of your ass smacking onto Gojo’s pelvis made you sheepish, sinking your face further into the sheets to try and conceal your cries. But that’s not working when the tip of his cock grazes your velvety walls in such a precise motion that you almost choke on a sob, drool coming down your mouth. “Oh God, right there, ‘Toruuu…”

The white-haired man observes from above, examining your round ass and body jerk from his movements. Fuck, you looked so fucking sexy like this under him, wailing out from him being able to make you feel so good. It strokes his ego so badly, but that’s what happens when he’s finally proving to you how much he’s wanted your body like this. Your erotic body, your adorable mewls, and your amazingly tight cunt clenching on him as if you don’t want to let him go — it all makes his head pound, and his strokes smack on your harsher.

“Shiiiit, I’m so close…” He moans with a cold sweat that rolls down to his chin and hits the skin of your trapezius. Gojo then decides to switch things up before his evident release comes knocking. “Hey, sweetie. Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

You were already maneuvered to face him before he could finish that sentence, your front forced to be seen in his gaze. Your half-lidded orbs locked in with Gojo’s as he bucks his hips to you during missionary. Oh, what an intimate position!

“Hic—Don’t look!” You say while putting your hands up to his face – accidentally hitting the bottom of his chin, taking him by surprise – not wanting him to see your disheveled and messy self under his observant eyes.

But that didn’t fly by with him, immediately grabbing your wrists and pinning them down. “Oh, none of that, princess,” his face descends to brush his nose against yours. “I told you I’d prove you wrong. So, how am I supposed to do that with you hiding from me like that?”

You gulp to give him a snarky answer, “Mmmph—You’ve proven that enough!”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles lightly; fuck, he sounds so hot. “With you, there’s never enough.” He takes your lips with him before you can say more, grinding his hips onto your squelching chasm to scrape your sensitive spots to evoke your screams to be taken from his mouth.

Gojo then snaps his hips into you at an unsteady tempo, the rhythm too fast to comprehend and catch yourself. The rough hits of his dick so harsh and sporadic, and your mewls are muffled by his kisses. Your hands go to his back, preparing yourself for the climax that rushes back to you for the fifth time that night.

Oh, fuck, oh my fucking God! And it hits you like a slap to the face; your exhausted body trembles for yet another crescendo to crash over you. Your legs come around to Gojo’s waist to hold on. And Gojo’s not too far from orgasming on his own; the fluttering contractions of your cunt force him to give in and spill into you once again, groaning into your wet and puffy lips.

The two of you embrace the jolts of your bodies in union, your lips glued to his as he kisses you through it all. And he drops his sweaty body on yours, the heat between you two sticking to your skins from the contact. A hand comes to the top of your head, caressing and massaging your scalp to further your relaxed state.

Gojo breaks the kiss with a soft sound, and a string of saliva sticks to you two until it’s broken apart from his ascent. He chortles, using a thumb to wipe your mouth from spit. “Well, did I make my point?”

You send him a tired glare, sighing heavily while your finger traces his back. “More than enough, Satoru.”

He beams, the dimples returning to blind you. “Good! Because I was thinking of going for another round—“

Your lips quiver with dread at the words, grabbing for a pillow and instantly hitting him in the head with it, not caring about him exclaiming in pain from the impact.

“Hurry up and get off me, you drunk, horny bastard!!”

But one thing was definite; it wasn’t the alcohol that Gojo was drunk on — it was you.

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ceruleancattail · 2 months

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A Red Heart

Mystic Au

Ruggie x reader

Tw: yandere, gore. Lots of gore. Man’s insane but Y’know I love that so-

All you could see was red.

Spread across his lips, splattered out in a shocking mess of crimson and brown, flakes of blood peeling off like a badly-painted wall. Drops of scarlet drip off his chin, almost like a beast’s wild slobber. His shirt was scratched up, one sleeve ripped clean off, stray threads fluttering away with his every breath.

He kneeled in right before the door, fingers curved into crescents. There were claws, at the end of those fingers. Short, yet viciously sharp. You’ve seen him rip apart packets of chips and paper packaging like it was nothing. It somehow never occured to you what those claws could do to skin. They were coated with grime and blood, red and gummy under his nails.

Vaguely, you could see chunks of flesh strewn around on the ground, ripped into indescribable chunks of gore. Thrown around your floor, coated with the crimson of blood. Hesitantly, you nudge one with your finger.

Warm.

It was still fucking warm.

A chill raced down your spine, settling itself deep into its base. Ice ran rampant through your veins, freezing your bones ice cold. Your heart thumped, throwing itself against its cage of bone again and again, in a futile attempt to escape.

Rooted to the spot, you could feel the bile rise up your throat. Lapping at the back of your throat, acidity burning into the flesh of your mouth. Pressing its way into to your tongue, the vile liquid threatening to spill off your lips at any moment.

The man… no, the creature sitting kneeling right before you raised his head slowly, a wide toothy grin spreading across his lips. To your disgust, it was the same smile. The fanged, crooked grin that he smiled, eyes crinkling right alongside with it.

The same smile you’ve always found cute.

The familiar, warm smile of your Familiar.

Forcing the bile back, you manage to stutter:

“What… have you done, Ruggie?”

Ruggie tilts his head to the side, a somewhat endearing little gesture. Furry ears twitching ever so slightly, those bright cerulean eyes of his staring straight into your own.

You used to think they were beautiful. A clear blue, like the boundless vastness of the sky. Yet now, those same eyes unsettled you, with their clearness. With their calmness. No matter how hard you searched, you couldn’t even find a smidge of remorse within those irises.

“Aw, you came home earlier today, huh Master?”

Hands pushing against the ground, Ruggie leaps right back onto his feet, that sickening grin still plastered across his blood soaked lips. He takes a step closer, swaying ever so slightly. Unsteady, shivering from the excitement of a beast who’s just successfully sunk its teeth into its prey. You could just barely make out the gleam in his eyes, and the instability of it all.

“Who did you…”

your voice falters, trailing off into the silence. What word could you have used? What English word could ever describe the savageness of which Ruggie attacked his poor victim, tearing they apart with both claw and fang? How could you ever come up with a word that encompassed this dastardly act of primal rage?

You were answered with a husky laugh, before a hand lands on your shoulder. A reassuring pat from Ruggie, yet you still winced from the sheer force of his palm.

“What does it matter? They’re dead.”

Ruggie shrugs, shoulders moving up and down fluidly.

“Ain’t no point to having a name to haunt your nightmares, yeah? I know humans are screamish about stuff like this.

I tried to be considerate about ya, y’know? I can’t have my master hurling nilly willy all over the floor. But it ain’t my fault you came home early today.”

His lips twitch upwards ever so slightly, a sort of sadistic amusement leaking out of it.

“That’s on ya.”

Ruggie bends down, wiping off his hands the best he can with the cloth of his pants, before he reaches for your hand. Clutching it tightly, damn near squeezing the life out of your palm. With a sharp yank, you stumble forward. Forced to follow Ruggie’s pace, as he leads you further into the gory scene.

You stop in front of a mangled corpse, almost rendered unrecognisable by Ruggie. The fingers were all scorched, and gnawed at, removing every single fingerprint on it. Part of it had been burnt, disfigured into some monstrosity of raw, throbbing red.

Without any hesitation, Ruggie plunges his hand into the corpse’s chest, digging around for something or another. Every move he made was accompanied by a disgusting squelch, blood staining his arm like a glove.

Despite all of that, Ruggie was still smiling. Chattering on cheerfully, as he continued his search.

“I wanted this to be a surprise, but you’re already here, so might as well.”

Finally, he finished out something. Something the size of his palm, throbbing and squirming in his very hands. A heart. A fucking human heart. Ruggie cradled it softly within his bloodstained palms, the organ still trembling within his hands.

“Humans use hearts to express their love, right? Those little valentine cards, all red and lovely… I figured it’ll be much more romantic if i actually got ya’ a real one.

I put in all that extra effort just for ya, master. Aren’t you just so grateful?”

He slides the organ into your hands, gently closing his fingers around yours. Guiding you into cradling the heart tenderly, softly. Like something beautiful, precious. Like something valuable, forged out of life itself.

Forcing you to hold onto the weight of his sin,

making your hands just as stained as his was.

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towriteloveontheirarms · 1 month

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Ñuha drakarītsos (dark!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: Aemond attacks Harrenhal and decides he deserves a spoil of war. And he doesn´t take lightly to any objections.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, (public) humiliation, non-consensual sex, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, reader getting treated like a toy, angst, no happy end, afab reader

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @targaryen-dynasty

Adrenaline races through your body as you run through the halls of Harrenhal. Keeping your bare feet moving over the hard stone ground and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your loud, huffing breath is the only thing you hear besides it. You don't remember losing your shoes or ripping the skirts of your dress. It does not matter now though. All that matters is getting out of the castle and away from the men invading it or die trying. But you refuse to give up without a fight.

You can count the number of hallways on one hand, when you get caught by a knight and despite your struggles, are forced back to the inner courtyard. There you get pushed towards the other woman from the castle, who had all been rounded up like scared animals. Clinging to one another, shaking and crying hysterically. Your eyes flit over the yard. Knights are pushing around lords and servants, rounding up more women. The screams mixed with the scent of fire entering your nose is disorienting. Your head spins from the cacophony around you and then silently everything goes quiet as he enters the courtyard. That piercing blue eye burns into your body for just a moment before eyeing the rest of his and his men's work. His voice is heard barking orders at his men and then Aemond Targaryen stands before all of you, lips pressed together in a thin line and his hands behind his perfectly straight back.

With a methodical carefulness the prince regards all of you, looking down his nose. After walking the line, he comes back around to stand in front of you.

“You.” He says plainly.

Before you know what exactly he means by that, you get pushed a few steps forward and your clothes are ripped off your body. A gasp goes through the group behind you, the women cowering away to further single you out as Aemond walks towards you.

Inches away from you, he stills. One of his large, rough hands finds it´s way onto your thigh, the thumb sliding over the inside to graze your folds. Instinctively your legs squeeze together tightly, a thick layer of goosebumps spreads over your body, yet while it brought a sardonic smile to his lips, yours are graced by a snarl. His touch wanders upwards, leaving a burning trace in its wake that makes you feel the need to purge. Acidic taste burns its way up your oesophagus, overwhelming you entirely as the burning trails over the curve of your breasts to stop right under your jawline.

He runs a thumb over your lip ring, tracing the curve of your lip before finally releasing your chin.

“Unclean.” He mutters, sounding unimpressed at the dirt and ash that had accumulated on your skin.

The smirk returns to his face as he reaches out and grabs onto your cheek.

He leans in close, his warm breath against your skin as he whispers. “You´re going to make a perfect little whore for me.”

The only answer he gets is a growl from deep within your body.

A soldier gets called over to wrap his cape over your shoulder. It is wet with drying blood and smells of the fires that had been set all around the castle, leaving you uncomfortable. Though it gives a sense of modesty.

The thought of which goes flying as soon as Aemond wraps an arm around your waist, to without much decorum, pick you up over his shoulder. To no avail you kick your legs and hit the back of the prince’s armour, which only gets regarded with a tightening of his grip.

Somehow, he manages to get you on top of Vhagar, trapping you between his arms. “Now. Are you going to behave yourself?” He asks firmly but doesn't wait for an answer as he commands Vhagar to take flight.

He doesn´t need to. It was more of an order than a question really. It is not like you could do much anyway without falling off the massive dragon and breaking your neck if you are lucky.

“Let me go!” You break your silence against him once you are far away enough from the castle for the screams on the ground to fall silent.

“Or mayhap you could give yourself to me right here.” He muses aloud.

“I will never give myself to you willingly.” You spit out the bitter tasting words. “And if you truly believe there to be even the slightest chance of it, you must be a bigger fool than the usurper himself.”

Aemond smiles coldly at your defiant words, enjoying the fact that you were unable to fully submit to him. He leans forward and bites down hard enough on your neck to break the skin where his teeth marked your flesh. It stings horribly, yet he seemed to find pleasure in your pain.

“And yet here you are, unable to do anything but sit in my lap and take whatever I choose to give you.” He purred softly, running his fingers over your hair gently before suddenly yanking it back harshly in a makeshift ponytail, causing tears to spring to your eyes.

The sharp pain running through your scalp lets up only moments after, yet as Aemond lets up on your throbbing tresses, he immediately begins pinching at your breasts through the fabric that hangs around your shoulders still.

“Perhaps I should break more than just your will?” He asked with a sinister grin, reaching between your thighs to pinch at them as well.

The sensation makes you jump in the dragon's saddle, only saved from falling by his arms around you and holding onto the next best thing you can find, which luckily is the pommel.

Your heart beats wildly out of your chest and while the wind howls in your ears, carrying over a loud amused laugh from behind your back.

By the time you reach the capital and the red keep, you feel ready to pass out. Even if in all technicality the way doesn’t take long on dragon back, the prince´s relentless teasing and humiliation has you so on edge that it becomes straining.

When Vhagar finally lands and your feet feel some solid ground under their soles, you are immediately restrained by the wrists behind your back. At first you have half a mind of making a run for it, but one look into Aemond's eye tells you that there wasn't a worse idea in the world right now and that his treatment would become only worse if you followed up on that instinct. So, you comply with him as he nudges you in the back to get you to walk. Stumbling after him as he leads the way towards his chambers, you shiver under the judging glances of passing royalty and servants alike. Hearing their whispers about the now open and thus very revealing cape had you clench your fists.

You want to yell at them, rage, defend yourself, run. Anything to make you feel less helpless, but there is no way you would survive that. So, you keep following Aemond, keeping your thoughts to yourself and focusing on the stone floors. Even if their gazes burnt into your body just like his steel blue eyes had back at Harrenhal, you wouldn't meet their eyes. Doing so would only serve to lose the last smidgeof respect you had preserved for yourself.

Somehow the walk through the castle feels even longer than the flight from Harrenhal. Perhaps because it is linked to the much greater shame of being seen in this position, a shame that feels like boulders weighing you down from your stomach.

Eventually he does open the doors to his private chambers to you though, closing them behind you, before coming up to.

Even the way he moves marks him as a predator. The slow steps, cold, ever calculating eyes, the way his head always moves before his body. Always planning something that no matter how hard you try, you can never seem to keep up with. Smelling and getting off on the fear of his prey.

You notice that you have let yourself get lost in thought, when Aemond pulls the cloak off your shoulders and loudly calls in some maids.

On his order they give you what must be the roughest bath ever. Scrubbing until your skin is reddened, but at least it rides you off the dirt and smell of smoke and dragon.

You are given the grace to be dried off, but one look tells you that you won't be given any new clothes.

Instead, once the women hand you over to Aemond again, with arguably pitying gazes, you find yourself held down on the mattress.

With leather straps your wrists and ankles get bound to the bed posts in an embarrassingly open position. And no matter how hard you pull on them, the restraints do not budge, leaving you in that position for anyone that would walk in the room to see.

“Do not worry. You will learn to love being under my control.” Aemond runs the back of his fingers over your burning cheeks.

An amused chuckle leaves his lungs as you turn your head to snap after the slender digits.

“I will never love being under your control. I surely will not ever love anything associated with you.” You pick up the fight against the smooth leather once more, yet all it does is cut into your skin.

“It's quite amusing to watch someone resist so hard.” The blond remarks. “But ultimately futile.”

He leans in close again, his hot breath brushing against your ear as he whispers. “You will learn to crave my touch as much as you fear it.”

Without a warning he bites down on your earlobe, causing you to cry out in pain and shock.

“Fuck you…” You hiss back at him.

Aemond smirks at your response, his eye gleaming with a mix of dominance and pleasure.

“I think I quite enjoy hearing you say that. Although I would much rather do that to you.” His hand wanders down between your legs again to forcefully push two fingers inside of you.

You cry out, a strangled sound that claws its way out of your lungs, but he does not relent. The sensation of his fingers penetrating is brutal, making you want to scream, but you bite your tongue instead. Under no circumstances would you give Aemond that satisfaction, if you could prevent it. Yet your thighs squeeze together tightly.

The action now elicits a deep growl from his throat, warning you to better behave or he might not be so kind as he is at the moment.

“Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” He continues to force his fingers inside of you, tearing at your sensibilities as he watches your face twist in discomfort and humiliation. His violation fuelling your hatred for him only further.

Eventually you have no other choice but to let your legs fall apart.

“That´s a good girl.” Aemond purrs.

His other hands slides up the middle of your body to rest loosely around the base of your neck.

Though he doesn't restrict your breathing yet, it hitches in your throat still. Aemond is unpredictable, even if you were to follow each of his commands.

Then suddenly his fingers leave your aching cunny. The same moment the rustling of clothes fills the room alongside your shallow inhalation.

Even with his hand away from your neck, you only dare to look at the prince from the corner of your eyes. It proves to be enough to take in the sight of pale skin, being exposed until even his breaches fall to the ground.

Aemond grabs your hair to force your lips open in a gasp. Without wasting time, his hardened length gets buried deep in your throat, forcing you to gag and choke as your body desperately tries to adapt to his long cock. Meanwhile Aemond, with a deep groan, began to thrust into you harshly. Tears burn in your eyes and flow over when you see the look of cruel joy in his darkened one. The wet sounds of the blond fucking your throat are beyond lewd and loud enough to be heard by the guards outside the door for sure. At the same time, you can´t stay quiet at the intrusion. Your lungs refuse to be silenced. Even if your cries for help are muffled and masked by the sounds of deep moans, you don´t give up hope one of them would take pity on you.

But nothing happens. The doors stay closed, no one intervenes, the leather cuffs do not budge for you to find a way out yourself. And you are forced to listen to your torturers irregular breathing and expressions of pleasure.

By the time he pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop, Aemond´s cock is soaked with a mix of spit and pre cum, the mixture dribbling down to his stones and wetting your chin from your swollen lips.

However, the assault has not found its end yet.

Aemond climbs in between your legs and lines up his slickened length at your in fear tightened opening. Your fists clench in preparation until the knuckles turn pale. None of it is enough to help against the pain.

Without preparation and with one swift motion, Aemond buries himself inside your core until he bottoms out.

“There we go.” He coos in a taunting tone over your stifled scream. “Feeling nice and full now, are we not, ñuha drakarītsos? My little dragonfire.”

Again, there is no break. He pulled out slowly to give you just the smallest moment to breathe, only to push back in even harsher than before. Every time he thrusts into you, a new scream claws its way out of your lungs, long after they are raw and hurt almost as much as the rest of your body.

Aemond reaches deep inside of you, stretching your still narrowed core, the curve of it making sure to hit all the most sensitive spots inside and out with the assistance of one large hand coming down to rub circles into your pearl to get you to loosen up.

His efforts, to your detriment, are fruitful sooner than late.

Under Aemond´s ministrations your body begins to betray you. Writhing and squirming against your will. The way liquid fire flows through your veins, calling for more and the feel of his stones slapping against your backside with every thrust. At the same time bile rises in your throat from how wrong this is. This shouldn´t make you feel good. None of it.

“Are you finally realising your place in the world, ñuha drakarītsos? Are you ready to give in to me?” Aemond leans down to let his breath tickle your ear.

His hand finds its way around your throat again, warning you not to say the wrong thing.

“Never. I will never bow my head to a levereter like you…” You are cut off by Aemond´s hand squeezing your throat tight enough to cut off any air flow.

Helplessly you gasp for air, as he keeps rutting into you, unflinching. Luckily your torturer shows a smidge of mercy, letting go of your neck just as the black dots begin to dance in your vision begin to grow.

“I will give you another chance. Are you ready to submit to me?” He puts extra emphasis on every word as he spits them out like sone expired food.

“You may ask as often as you wish. My answer will not change.” You shoot back in the same tone, spitting in his face afterwards.

“Oh, I will make you regret this.” The prince growls angrier than you had ever seen anyone. It is not a threat, especially not one made idly. It is a promise that he means to fulfil.

Until long past sunset, Aemond pounds you into the mattress, to a point where you pass overstimulation by a longshot. His seed leaks out of your swollen, numb folds to stain the bed sheets. A red print of his hand signals where he had cut off your breath repeatedly. And still he kept thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Where he still takes the strength from to keep it up you aren´t sure. And if you are honest with yourself, his efforts to make you submit have you unable to coherently think anything at the moment.

Much to Aemond´s delight, he is able to observe your head rolling from side to side weakly, your whole body shaking uncontrollably, the fight entirely gone from your spent muscles. At least for now. You have resorted to begging him to stop on a barely coherent mumbling tone, raw from everything that has happened prior, which is answered by a wolfish smirk as Aemond finally slows his hip movements.

The slower thrusts allow him to lean down one last time to suck purple and blue marks into the sensitive skin around the one his hand had left earlier. Some pitiful, scratchy and quite hurtful whines leave your mouth in response to the prince´s doings. Observing his masterpiece it only takes Aemond a few more pumps to climax one last time.

Through hazy eyes and an even hazier mind you barely register him pulling out. Your senses are overwhelmed by the low light of the moon reflecting off his hair to make it shimmer like liquid silver and the stench of has previously transpired. You are exhausted, eyes barely able to keep open as Aemond gets off the bed to clean his cock and get redressed.

Once he is finished caring for himself, the blond, releases your weakened limbs from the restraints. Then he climbs in bed next to you, though he makes no attempt to share his blanket with you, nor show any care towards your still far-gone mind. Why would he you were naught more than a spoil of war, a toy to be used and thrown away once it became too broken. He seemed to sense however that there was some fight left in you, even if at the moment you did not.

“You better be ready to bow to me on the morrow. Or there will be more punishment. I do not mind either way. It is up to you if I will your dream or your worst nightmare.” Aemond rasps, the tiredness in his voice clearly audible even through the fog that seemed to want to stay in your brain. You don´t remember much of what followed that night. Somehow he ended up with one of his arms laid loosely over your middle. Though the air between the two of you remains as hostile as before.

He knows there is no fondness for him in your heart, no trust. He can’t blame you for it. In all honesty he does not even care much for it. You belonged to him now either way. His little dragonfire.

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 month

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Adventure: The Big Ambitions of Baron Bittly

Monsters from the primal expanse of the Drovidiin Wilds have been appearing without warning in the kingdom's heartland, somehow teleported hundreds of miles to rampage through towns and cities. After more than one skirmish with the beats, your party has ventured to the bordertown of Thimblewell on the edge of the wilds, seeking answers.

Adventure Hooks:

Though the party have heard whisperings of the beast attacks before, their firsthand exposure to the phenomenon comes when they hear screams and cries coming from the town's fancy playhouse. An acid spitting drake has somehow found its way inside the building during the middle of the performance and its rampage threatens to bring the house down.

Tasked with tracking down a crew of bandits that've been plundering local caravans, the party's raid of the outlaw's encampment is thrown into chaos when one of their targets breaks open an innocuous crate, pulls out a glowing glass canister and smashes it in the middle of the melee: unleashing a beast in a burst of blue light into an already chaotic final battle.

The party find a strange tension when they arrive in the town of Thimblewell. Though the settlement has a long history of being beset by monsters from the primeval wilderness it borders, there've been no attacks for the past several years and no one seems to want to talk about why. Eventually a disgruntled former guardsman points them in the direction of the local landholder, an amateur mage with a reputation for conducting strange experiments. He fails to mention that said mage has a defence system built into his manse, and that he's been expecting the party's arrival for some time.

Background: Irnett Bittley was never a mage of large talent, both because he was unable to summon up the showy displays of elemental mastery that would have earned him a living as a court wizard, and because his self important streak made him too proud to ever suffer suffer through an apprenticeship. He was a great mage, destined for great things, and the fact that others couldn't see that was their failing.

Tired of being challenged or denied by people who genuinely knew better, Bittley picked up stakes and went to the boonies seeking to find a pond small enough to consider him a big fish. He found it in Thimblewell, a little town sorely in need of a handymage, and he could have been happy and well liked there if the need to be great wasn't etched on his soul. Thimblewell had a monster problem, and while Bittley was no battlecaster he did have a knack for bindings and containment spells. If he managed to catch a monster by supprise while it was distracted by the local millitia he could shrink it down and hold it in stasis, effectively defeating the monster by kicking the can indefinitely down the road.

The townsfolk heaped praised upon him for his heroics, only to have their goodwill spat right back in their faces as Bittley started asking for increasingly steep "donations" to keep his enchantments in place, all but threatening to release the beasts again if his impromptu tax wasn't paid. Fast forward a couple of decades and Baron Bittley has become rich enough to buy himself a title and become Thimblewell's defacto ruler.

Still not content to be a backwoods landbarron, Bittley's latest scheme is to sell his stockpile of captured beasts one by one to unscrupulous individuals who are in need of a good monster: thieves in need of a distraction, poachers and collectors trafficking in rare specimens, nobles who'd prefer an untraceable and indiscriminate means of assassination. This enterprise is making Bittley even more rich, but with success comes paranoia, and we all know how dangerous a paranoid mage can be.

Challenges & Complications:

1: The drake was intended as a means of assassination, targeted at a countess and her heir attending the playhouse's performance in one of the box seats. As the party runs in to save the screaming commoners, they'll potentially be diverted by the countess's guards, intending to save their employer's life before anyone else's. Saving the noble might earn them a rich reward at the cost of many lives, but choosing to look after the common people will earn them the ire of the acid-scarred heir, who watched them save the rabble while his flesh burned and his mother was crushed to death under rubble.

2: After the party have defeated the bandits, they'll find three more of those arcane canisters left in the box, each containing its own miniaturized monster waiting to be unleashed. The caravan the bandits robbed was smuggling these beasts to a buyer with dangerous aims, meaning the caravan's owners now have good reason to want the party silenced. Do the party report their findings? Extort those who hired them at the cost of a knife in the back? Or do they just take their offbrand pokeballs and run, dreaming of the chaos they can cause.

3: Baron Bittley knows the party is coming for him thanks to his spies in town, he also knows he could never hope to take them in a fair fight. Thankfully he’s got access to magic, so he doesn’t need to fight fair, allowing them into his home only to catch them in a trap that will shrink them down to a few inches tall, whereafter it’s a simple matter of mage-handing them over into the basement bound dowry chest/prison he’s made for all those in town who’ve dissented to his rule over the years.

Thankfully the tiny townsfolk have been working on a jailbreak for some time now, having painstakingly sawed their way out of the box while their inattentive overlord’s been distracted domineering the world outside. The greatest hurdle to their escape has been the wild landscape of the junk fulled manor basement, filled with various pests that’ve become arcanely mutated from the leakage from the mage’s lab on the floor above. The party will need to engage in some borrowers esque traversal across the basement, up through the walls, and into the lab if they have any hope of reversing their predicament.

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#arcane #wizard #villain mage #villain noble #town encounter #rescue mission #bandits #mid level #dungeon #manor #dungeon manor #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder

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spacesquidlings · 4 months

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Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind

Summary: With his lover bedridden after a battle gone awry, Astarion finds himself acting as her nurse, comforting her as best as he can, giving in to many of her whims. And despite all his theatrics, there is no one she wants by her side more than him.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Warnings/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, mostly comfort, fluff, some suggestive mentions, mild description of acid-based/burning wound, references to pain (nothing graphic)

Taglist<3: @spacebarbarianweird

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The sharp smell of medicinal herbs burned in her nose, wafting over her as the pillows beneath her head and neck were readjusted once more. Pain followed fast on its heels, a phantom compared to what she’d felt earlier, before she’d blacked out entirely.

“How’s that, darling?” Astarion’s nimble fingers prodded at the pillows, fluffing them as best as he could without disturbing her. He drew her from her memories, from the blinding pain that had sent her into unconsciousness.

She whined, wrinkling her nose as another wave of smell hit her, the ointments smeared across her wounds seeping through the bandages wrapped around them. It burned as she breathed it in, daggers piercing the inside of her nose and scratching at the back of her throat. Pain radiated up her side and she shifted, nearly gagging as the smell grew stronger.

“Hurts,” was all she could manage, her voice cracking from the effort.

He huffed, crossing his arms and stepping back to examine his work. “I think that’s the best you’re going to get, my love. As much as I wish to, I cannot turn the bed into clouds.”

“Thank you for trying,” she murmured, barely stifling a groan as she shifted.

She kept trying to find a comfortable position and yet she could find none. No matter how she lay she could not take the pressure off of all her wounds, and the pure frustration of it all made her eyes burn, angry tears pooling in the creases of her eyes. It painted the world in quicksilver and moonbeams, and yet she could find no comfort in the facsimile of the calm of the night.

“Don’t cry, please.” Astarion’s voice quivered, his brow drawing together. Somehow his skin grew paler, blanching at the sight of her tears. “Please, darling. You’re scaring me.”

She sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away, hissing in pain as her body grew taut, muscles and skin tight from the burns she’d sustained. Her bottom lip quivered, a sob caught in her throat, too weak to even wail.

“Oh my darling,” Astarion cooed, voice soft as feather-down. His hands hovered above her, as if hesitant to touch her. “You’re going to be okay.”

She whimpered. Was she? Was she truly going to be okay? She wanted to reach for him, but useless as she was, she could not even raise her hands to wipe her face, let alone hold him.

She watched as he seemed to come to some sort of resolution, his fingers delicately lowering to brush the tears from her eyes. Her vision cleared for the barest of moments before more tears trekked down her cheeks, the salt stinging where it seeped into her bandages.

“You’re going to get through this.” He brushed back loose strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, caught in the ointment smeared on her skin. “You’re strong, my love. You were strong enough to survive such powerful magic. You’ll survive this.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Although she’d survived the initial attack, she didn’t know if she was going to make it through the after-effects.

She hadn’t been thinking when it had all happened, shoving a child out of the way of their assailant, only to be swathed in burning pain. There had been no thoughts of putting up a shield, of casting a spell to push the attacker back. There had only been the thread of panic that had burst in her mind, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

When it had first washed over her she’d thought it fire, but then it had become worse. So terribly worse.

She’d learned, once she’d awoke, covered in the stinking ointment and bandaged, that it had been acid. A horrible homemade concoction that had very nearly killed her from its potency.

But she could not find it in herself to regret it, not really. She had managed to survive, but that child would not have. And her stepping in the way of the attack had been enough of a distraction for Astarion to make a killing blow.

Although she doubted she would make it through the consequences of her actions. Namely the reeking ointment and the near-unbearable pain.

As if reading her thoughts, Astarion clicked his tongue. “Don’t be so dramatic. You can survive anything, darling. Even a little homemade potion.”

She huffed, looking away. It hurt to speak, and yet she couldn’t help herself as she snapped back at him. “It’s a lot more than a homemade potion.”

“Well, it was homemade. He was a master artificer and wizard. I don’t think he bought it from a market.”

Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would staunch the flow of tears. “It hurts so much, Astarion.”

When he responded his voice was quieter, softer. “I know, darling.”

“I feel like I’m being burned alive.”

He didn’t answer this time, not at first. Silence descended, heavy, uncomfortable as her bandages.

It was more unbearable than the lingering sting of the acid, and she opened her eyes, the world limned in silver once more, searching for her beloved in the little room.

His eyes were wide, the crimson of his irises stark against the pallor of his skin. She could see the shimmering silver caught in the alabaster of his lashes, the gold of the firelight catching in his own tears.

“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke fiercely, each word as strong as a blow as he clenched his jaw. She wouldn’t have heard the quiver in his voice if she didn’t know him so well, didn’t know when he was trying to keep something hidden. “You’re going to get through this, and then we’re going on a long vacation.”

Her heart twisted, clenched in the grip of sorrow. “Astarion. My love, I’m so sorry, I-”

He shook his head, his hand delicately cupping her cheek. His own tears streaked down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away. “Don’t apologise. Just get through this, got it?”

“Okay. Okay, I will.” Her heart squeezed all the tighter, aching, struggling to beat.

She tried to reach up, tried to hold his face, but she’d hardly raised her hand more than an inch before a ripple of pain made her gasp, fingers trembling like the branches of a sapling in a storm.

Astarion chuckled, lowering his head until the tips of her fingers brushed against his cheek. “Is this what you were hoping for, darling?”

“Thank you.” Her bottom lip was quivering again, her heart in her throat. Sadness was a vice that held her tight, nameless, all-consuming, drowning out even the smell of the ointment. She hurt so much, and she had hurt him. In her callousness she had hurt her most beloved and she didn’t know how to fix it, how to make him smile.

With a sigh Astarion lifted his head. His lips twitched, one brow arching. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just… I…” She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t figure out how to say it.

She felt like she was crumpling, formless and weak.

He shushed her gently, brushing the pads of his fingers against her cheeks. “Hush. It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.” Another twitch of his lips. “Wait to thank me until after I’ve changed your bandages.”

Shuddering, she looked away, feeling worse than helpless. “I look horrible, don’t I?”

“No you don’t.” A pause, his eyes searching hers. “It doesn’t look good, but you could never look horrible.”

An entire new wave of misery washed over her, and she wished she could still be unconscious, unaware of this pain and the knowledge that she looked horrible.

“Be honest,” she sniffed. “I look like something from a child’s nightmare.”

“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes. “Now you really are being dramatic.”

She whimpered, scowling as best as she could.

Sighing, Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, toying with the blankets, readjusting them over and over. Even so, his eyes never left hers, earnest and bright. “You’re hurt. You don’t look horrible, you look like someone who’s injured. You look like someone who needs to be taken care of until you’re better.”

Fangs flashing in the light, he gave her a half-moon smile. “And luckily for you, you’ve been blessed with someone as devoted as me, who will be here until you’re all better. Even though you’re being very vain.”

She frowned. “If I could throw a pillow at you, I would.”

“Well thank the gods you don’t have the strength right now.”

He leaned closer, fixing her pillows again. “Beneath all those bandages is the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” He paused, smirking. “Well, second most beautiful. After me of course.”

“Oh of course.”

“You’re no child’s nightmare, darling.” The corners of his lips hiked higher. “In fact, I’d wager you’re a child’s hero now.”

She snorted. “Oh, I’m so sure.”

He poked her shoulder gently, beaming. “I am. I bet that kid’s already off telling all her friends.”

“She’s probably forgotten by now.”

“Oh no.” he gave a theatrical shake of his head. “No, certainly not. Rumour has probably spread that there’s a new hero on the sword coast.”

The corners of her lips tipped up, tugged by laughter bubbling in her throat. “Oh please.”

“The blade of frontiers had better move over,” he continued, mischief twinkling in his eyes like entire galaxies of stars. “There’s a new hero protecting Faerûn now.”

She giggled, shaking her head as best as she could. “I’m no hero! Besides, what would I even be called?”

Astarion tapped his cheek, eyes skyward as he hummed thoughtfully. “Now that’s a good question.”

“See? You can’t be a hero without a cool name.”

“How about ‘protector of the most beautiful vampire spawn?’ Or ‘the prettiest saviour of children from acid?’” He brushed the back of his index finger over her brow, smirking a little too broadly. His fangs flashed before disappearing again as he spoke, mischief in his words. “Or, and I think this one is the best, ‘the fool of faerûn.’”

She gaped at him, mouth falling open.

“You know, since you ran into an acid attack.” He shrugged. “You got the kid out of the way, but you didn’t get yourself out of the way in time.”

She wrinkled her nose as she answered, equal parts annoyed and amused. “You are so lucky, Astarion.”

“To have you by my side?” He stroked her hair, smirking. He knew perfectly well that was not what she was referring to. “I most certainly am lucky, darling.”

“You’re lucky I can barely raise my arms, or else you’d have a pillow in your face.”

“Yes well, you did kind of deserve that.” He tapped the top of her head, his expression growing more serious. “You had me terrified. I thought I’d lost you.”

His words were sobering, and she no longer felt the glimmer of mirth she had before. She sank into the pillows, dropping her gaze. “Astarion, I-”

“It’s already happened.” He cut her off before she could finish her apology, his brows drawing low as he continued. “I want you to focus on healing, on getting better. That’s the only apology I’m willing to accept.”

She swallowed, finding his gaze. “Okay.”

“And just as I said, once you are better, we’re going on vacation.”

It was so mundane, to talk of going on a vacation. A trip meant for relaxation, for having fun, where the highest stakes were finding delicious new food in an unfamiliar place. The sudden segue felt like something out of a dream, surreal when compared to her most recent memory, the wall of blackness in her mind after the rush of burning pain.

A giggle bubbled from her lips, earning a bemused look from Astarion. “What’s so funny? You think me incapable of a vacation?”

“No, that’s not it at all.” In fact it was all too easy to imagine him lounging around all day, the picture of indolence as he languidly sauntered down unfamiliar streets, as he stretched out on some sumptuous bed in a rented room.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense, darling.” He laid on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She giggled again, feeling ridiculous. “It’s nothing, really. It just feels strange to be talking of going on vacation, especially when I’m here covered in this gross ointment.”

He clicked his tongue. “That ‘gross ointment’ is going to help speed along your recovery.” He sniffed, nose wrinkling. “Although it is not exactly a pleasant smell.”

“I want a bath,” she whined. “I want to feel clean and smell pretty.”

“Once you are well enough, my love.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “I will give you the most luxurious bath you can dream of.”

Sighing, she imagined it in her mind. Warm water and flower petals and bath oils perfuming the air, helping her feel alive once again. “Do you think you could do that when we go on vacation, too?”

A chuckle, a darkening of his eyes. “There is plenty I plan to do, once you’re better.”

“Including a bath?” She ignored the somersault of her belly, the heat suddenly blooming at the apex of her thighs. Now really was not the time, not when she could barely stand the blankets that were draped over her.

“Yes,” he drawled. “The most splendid of baths every day for you, my dear.”

She relaxed as best she could against the pillows, daydreaming once more of such a thing. Of feeling the warm heat of the water seeping into her bones, of fingers massaging her scalp, trailing lovingly down her back.

“We can do whatever you wish,” he murmured, his gaze softening. “So long as you get better. You have to promise me you’ll get better.”

“I promise. I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Astarion sighed, toying with her hair. Just the sight of him was stronger than any balm or medicine. The slight curve of his lips as he smiled, relief stitching itself into his expression, more a comfort than any sleeping potion.

He was still speaking, not that she heard even a word of it. Her mind couldn’t keep itself steady, flitting like hummingbird wings as the pain ebbed and flowed through her. Astarion had to pinch her cheek once, twice, before she could focus her thoughts, like trying to coax the ocean through the eye of a needle.

“Have I lost you, darling?” He chuckled, smoothing his hand over the sting where he’d pinched her. “I would have thought you would listen raptly as I spoke.”

She managed a roll of her eyes, knowing he was doing little more than teasing her. Distracting her, perhaps, to take the edge off of the unrelenting burn of her body.

“Forgive me, my love,” she rasped, batting her lashes as swiftly as she could in the moment. “It’s just hard to focus, even on your limitless charm.”

His brows knit together, lips pursing. She caught a flash in his eyes, worry quickly masked before she could begin to pick at it.

“You should rest, darling,” he murmured. “You’ll feel a little better once you wake.”

Astarion made to stand, the bed shifting as his weight vanished, and a ripple of pain went through her side, her chest. Not only her body screaming from the movement, little more than a jostle and yet enough to irritate the weeping wounds beneath her bandages, but her heart screaming too. Pain lancing in her chest, her heartbeat turning to the quiver of a loosed bowstring.

What would she do without him? How could she stand the anger of the poison that had flayed her skin? How could she try to brave the darkness of her unconsciousness? All without him?

A whimper fled from her lips, drawing Astarion’s gaze. The lines in his brow only deepened, and he sank back into the bed. A question hung on his lips, his hands reaching towards her, hovering, hesitancy making his face look wan.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”

The anxiety in his face fell away, like the last of a stone wall crumbling to ruin. Relief, and no small amount of mischief, remained, shining like light through stained glass, refracting rainbows across the ceiling and walls.

“I’m honoured that you want me close, love, but I’m not going far.” There was laughter in his voice, making it lilt like the opening of a song. “I’ll be back in less than a moment.”

With a swiftness that sometimes scared her, Astarion moved across the room, the sound of glass clicking as he sorted through little bottles and vials on their dresser. There were perfumes, lotions, oils, a pretty pink nail polish he’d presented to her only a few days before the attack.

She wanted to ask what he was doing, but in another moment he was back, wiggling a bottle no thicker than her pinky, filled with an oily-looking, iridescent liquid.

“To help you sleep,” he said before she could ask. “It’s supposed to numb some of the pain so you can rest.”

She tried to sit up, only to cry out as a thousand daggers stabbed at her, as her skin drew taut beneath her bandages. She collapsed back, wincing at the red stains blooming on some of her bandages.

“Darling, I fear that is the exact opposite of trying to get better.” Astarion tsked softly, sliding one hand behind her head, flicking the cap of the bottle open with the other.

“I was going to take the medicine.” She had to draw in lungfuls of air to push past the stabbing throb across her body, steadying the sudden surge of nausea in her belly.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. The arch of his brow and the quirk of his mouth made it seem like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and it made her want to pout.

“You’re so impatient,” he chided, bringing the bottle to her lips. “Obviously I was going to help you with it. The more you move the harder it is for you to heal.”

She could say nothing as she drank the potion, fighting not to gag as the oily substance slid down her throat. It tasted bitter, and it coated the inside of her mouth like grease.

Setting the empty bottle to the side, Astarion grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He patted her head, not yet done teasing her. “Imagine how much easier it would have been if you’d just waited for me the first time.”

“Are you saying you’ll take care of me? You’re going to nurse me back to health?”

He chuckled. “Of course, darling. I’m terribly keen to play as your doctor.”

“Oh Astarion, don’t tease me so much,” she whined. “I can hardly think of a clever response right now.”

“I don’t mind.” He tapped the tip of her nose, unscathed from the attack. “That pretty blush of yours is all I need.”

“Astarion.”

He lifted his hands quickly, palms out in surrender. “Alright, alright, that’s enough for now. I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Panic seized her and she gasped. “My love, wait. Wait!”

She reached her arms out as far as she could, making a grabbing motion with her hands. Astarion’s brows rose, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Oh? And what’s this?”

Whining, she stretched her arms out a little further. “I want you.”

“So needy.” His tone was chiding, but his smile only grew. “Do you need me to continue comforting you, darling?”

“Astarion, please.” She couldn’t spar with him now, and so she was at the mercy of his teasing. She pushed out her bottom lip, pouting as best she could, giving him her biggest doe eyes. “I need you.”

“And how do you need me?”

If she could have ground her teeth she would have. But as it stood she could not, so she settled for a wrinkle of her nose, her cheeks burning from the heat he’d coaxed into them. He was smiling far too broadly, his eyes full of mirth.

With a sigh she said, “I need you to stay with me. I need you to hold me, my beloved. Please.”

“Oh my.” She could see the faintest touch of colour in his cheeks, like the first hint of the blushing dawn in the dove-grey of the morning sky. “Well how could I ever say no to such a request?”

Happiness softened the edges of her ire as Astarion tugged at the blankets, carefully slipping into the bed beside her. She sank to the side, his body beckoning her close, wincing only barely as he pressed against her side. He draped an arm loosely over her stomach, no heavier than another blanket, and yet she felt safer because of it, warmer than any blanket could make her feel.

“How is this?” He murmured softly against her ear, his breath tangling in her unbound hair. “Better?”

“This is very nice,” she said, just as quietly. “Thank you, my love.”

“Do you think you can sleep?” His voice wobbled, revealing the fear that had been hiding beneath his joking tone. “It will help with your healing.”

“But I only just got comfy,” she whined, not caring how pitiful she sounded.

A snort, cool fingers brushing back her hair. His breath gathered against her skin as he lowered his head, sighing. “That is so you can sleep, darling.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“If I’m distracting you, it may be better if I go-”

“No!” It would have been a shriek if she’d been able to shriek right now. As it was it sounded like a garbled rasp, and Astarion had to press his face to her neck to muffle his laughter.

“Don’t go. Please love, I want you to stay.” She didn’t feel right without him close, felt like she was on the verge of dying. She wanted to cling to him, to hold fast, finding comfort in the acid of his comments and the bergamot clinging to his skin.

“I’ll stay.” He laid a gentle kiss to her neck, a stark difference to the teasing laughter from only seconds ago. “See? I have no plan to move.”

“Really?”

“Why would I, when such a beautiful, needy little thing is in my arms.”

She turned her head away so he could not see the crimson staining her cheeks. She had no response, no clever rejoinder. She was terribly needy for his closeness, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“You really must rest, though,” he continued, pressing another kiss to her throat. “How else will you get better so we can take a vacation?”

“You seem very set on the idea of this vacation,” she mused. Already she could feel the medicine working, the pain beginning to ebb, dulling breath by breath. “What do you even want to do?”

“What don’t I want to do, darling?” He sighed, stroking her hair. “I want to lounge and sleep in late. And perhaps we can visit a spa; we both need it after this.”

“A spa sounds nice.” She imagined it, sleeping the morning away, skilled hands massaging the knots from her back and arms, floral-scented serums and creams and oils pressed to her face, bringing her skin to life.

“And shopping,” he continued, just as lost in his daydreams as she. “So much shopping. We must refresh our wardrobes, darling. It’s all very…” She could picture the wrinkle of his nose without even looking at him. “Last season. We must be ahead of all the rest.”

“I’ll put my trust in you, then,” she murmured. “I’m sure you know what is best.”

She wouldn’t mind some new gowns, if she were honest. She would need something to make her feel pretty again after she was healed.

Astarion hummed, combing fingers through her hair. “Have you fallen asleep already?”

“No,” she answered, not feeling tired in the least. Now that the pain was fading she felt wide awake, energized.

“Well you should,” he admonished. “It will certainly put me at ease knowing you’re resting.”

“But I’m not tired, my love.”

He sighed, undoubtedly rolling his eyes. “What can I do to help?”

She hummed, wracking her mind for something that could help, that would lull her into the gentle darkness of unconsciousness.

Before she had met him, she would sometimes fall asleep to the faint sounds of music beyond her windows, or she would hum her favourite melodies until she could not hum them any longer.

“Could you…” She licked her lips, twisting as far away from his gaze as she could as a new wave of heat washed over her. “Could you sing for me?”

The silence that fell from her question stretched long, and she feared he would laugh, or tell her that no he could not. But then, soft as a caress, Astarion asked “you wish for me to sing?”

She swallowed, her flushing cheeks be damned. She wanted to meet his gaze as she again made her shameless request, a small comfort that had helped her in the years before she’d met him.

“Will you please sing for me?” He was close enough now for her to take his free hand, even as tremors still quivered through hers. “Please, my love? It really would help me sleep.”

For a moment he searched her gaze, his expression serious. Soft light gilded his features, twinning in the strands of his hair, painting the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. His eyes seemed to glow, and she had the strangest feeling that she was being observed by a deity, a powerful, celestial being not of this world.

Her heart ached, and she held his hand tighter, reminding herself that he was not an ethereal being of light and dreams. He was real, he was here with her, he was not going anywhere.

Astarion’s eyes flicked down, to their intertwined hands, seeming to come to some sort of resolution.

“You are so terribly lucky I find you so wonderful,” he sighed, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t sing for just anyone, you know.”

She gingerly brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I think I would hate it if you did. I want you to sing for only me.”

His eyes opened, his expression tender despite how he had bemoaned such a task. “Any requests, my dear?”

“A lullaby, please.” She held fast to his hand, clutching it as surely as a child clutched a beloved doll. “Any lullaby, whatever your favourites are.”

He mulled it over, stroking her hair absently. “Alright, I have a few in mind.”

His voice quivered at first, uncertainty staining his voice. The words tremulous, quiet, yet as he continued, seeming to realize this was not an elaborate ruse to tease him, he grew louder, more confident. The faintest touch of colour stained his cheeks, but it could have been the burning red of the sky at sunset for how it ignited warmth in her own heart.

At first she felt nothing, energy still buzzing like static along her nerves and sizzling in her veins. But the wispy tendrils of fatigue slowly crept over her, Astarion’s words coming in and out of focus, blurring together. She was certain he was switching to Elven every now and again, the songs he was singing old, excavated from a corner of his memory draped in cobwebs and dust.

She yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. It became harder to keep them open, and eventually she just gave in, sighing in response to Astarion’s teasing laughter as his fingertips skipped across her brow.

“Are you asleep yet?”

“Not yet,” she grumbled, scrunching her nose.

“I guess I have no choice, but to keep going.”

She hummed in approval, earning another quiet huff of laughter before he continued, beginning a new song she did not recognize.

She wouldn’t have said he was the very best, and although she didn’t recognize every song he chose, she could tell some of it was off-key, the notes too sharp or flat. But she didn’t care, finding comfort in the off-tune lilt of his voice. It was a melody just for her, carrying her like white-capped waves towards sleep.

Her fingers found their way to his shirt, twisting into the cream coloured fabric, snagging on the ties that held it closed. She could not move enough to tuck herself beneath his chin the way she liked best, but she could hold onto him like this at least. She could anchor herself, no longer lost to the pain of her wounds.

Astarion’s voice blurred, words melting into each other until she could not recognize a single one, her mind muddled as a turbid river. All her thoughts turned to nonsense, but for one, shining bright as a star, holding fast in the cloudiness of her mind.

That she would get better. That she had to get better. She couldn’t let him sing her lullabies for nothing. She had to make up for the worry she was causing him.

She might have said the thoughts aloud, she really wasn’t sure. Her body was growing fuzzy, the world around her melting in and out of focus.

What she was sure of was that Astarion paused for the briefest of moments, brought his lips to her brow. He murmured against her skin, that he was holding her to that promise. That he would need her to get better so she could help him come up with a name for her new heroic persona while on their languid holiday.

She wanted to promise that she would, if only because she loved him so much she couldn’t bear upsetting him. But Astarion started singing again, and his voice suddenly sounded very, very far away, like an echo behind glass.

And then she was gone, lost to sleep, one step closer to healing, just as she had promised.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #honey the sweeter the sun

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yanderes-galore · 6 months

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yandere pets🐱🐶? Reader either accidentally eats something weird or comes into contact with alien pollen that makes the Xenomorphs reject their current Queen n make them view reader as their new “leader”. They become overprotective domestic pets. Platonic ofc

I love the idea but I'll do a version closer to canon if that's fine ^^

Yandere! Xenomorphs Seeing You As Queen/Leader

Pairing: Platonic/Pet-Like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female/Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Territorial/Possessive behavior, Forced companionship.

This idea reminds me of something similar to the fourth Alien movie.

In this case you'd be similar to Ripley 8, some sort of experiment involving a human harboring Xenomorph DNA.

This would naturally make you connected to the Xenomorphs.

However, the non-canon Alien pollen also seems like an interesting idea.

Maybe the "spores" seep into your skin and make you smell like a Xenomorph, somehow altering your DNA in the process?

These are the ideas I came up with that could make this concept work.

We haven't really seen Xenomorphs reject a Queen, however I could have missed it in lore.

As a result I would assume they'd react similarly to insects: they'd most likely kill the old Queen if they are somehow attached to you.

It's that or the Queen has already died at some point and the Hive is looking for a new one.

Which makes them choose you due to your smell.

I'd assume this concept would go like this, you have a whole Hive under your control.

It doesn't matter if you like it or not, the Xenomorphs see you as their new "Queen" regardless of gender.

While they would prefer you stay in their Hive, Drones would try to follow you just about anywhere.

Honestly towards you they may just act like pets.

You can't lay eggs or reproduce so the colony is doomed to be small.

That is unless a small group of Drones break off with you while a new Queen actually settles in the Hive.

If we go with that idea then I suspect you'd have about six-ish Drones following you at all times.

Obviously if they all saw you as leader than they'd fiercely protect you.

Even if this is a small group that separates from the rest of the Hive, they'd probably try to make your home a new Hive.

Wherever you live this new group will infest, they think they're helping.

After all they only know Hives as homes, they have no idea you live differently.

Expect the waxy and wet coating of Xenomorph Hives to quickly coat a sections of your home.

I'd assume they'd pick one of three places; your basement (if you have one), attic (if you have one), or your bedroom.

They'll make a section of your living space theirs then try to drag you into it as their leader/Queen.

You'll notice they smell rather acidic/earthy... yet they don't have a strong smell.

Even if you already smell like a Xenomorph I can see them trying to rub against you or cuddle you to make the pheromone smell stronger.

Xenomorphs would most likely be territorial of their new leader and home.

You can't really prevent it, either.

Better hope no friends come over as they'll be quickly attacked by one or two of the large Drones.

You may not even get to experience human contact again.

Your new Xenomorph followers would probably find a new place to make a nest then just drag you there.

Humans are a great source of hosts, yet they see them as too dangerous for you to be around.

They could harm the colony.

They could harm their Queen.

As a result, your overprotective Xenomorph pets would most likely become territorial to the point your life is now in isolation.

Sadly, you don't have a choice in the matter...

Until you eventually pass... you'll be their Queen/leader... away from humanity until something changes (if it even does).

#yandere xenomorph #yandere xenomorph harem #yandere alien #yandere alien vs predator

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halfa-failure · 6 months

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Gently pats him on the head

Story (???) below

Ok so this can go either way,

1. The Fentons were humans studying the AbsoluteSolver and Danny accidentally got some of the programming in his programming as a baby drone.

Vlad could be an already existing Worker drone turned into a Murder drone that has a grudge against Jack specifically (he blames Jack for becoming a murder drone I guess).

2. The Fenton’s are maniacs (labeled by the settlement) building ‘weapons’ against the Murder drones and collect parts (arms and the tails) for research. Kinda like Alice from episode 7 if you’ve watched that episode.

One day Danny goes down into the Lab/Storage area out of pure curiosity and gets attacked by one of the parts (or somehow got his code infected). Could be a No One knows au or Tucker and Sam would be there..?

Who knows.

More stuff:

The ghosts could be murder drones (logically)

-Cujo could be a friendly(???) sentinel

-As you can see when using the AbsoluteSolver Danny’s eyes turn green and his hair turns white (no clue why) and in a future thing I’ll draw his tail having green ‘nanite acid’

I lowkey wanna make Danny tall for once but hey you’ll never know

ALSO WRITING IS NOT MY FORTE (I might edit this in the future)

#danny phantom #digital art #art #danny fenton #dp #danny phantom au #murder drones #au #alternate universe #he looks like a wet cat #hes so silly #nom nom nom

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thisisnotthenerd · 23 days

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bigger and better things

an exploration of the bad kids as children and what it means to be destined for greatness

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i. adaine abernant

the disappointed looks start to wear on adaine sometime in middle school.

she tries so hard, always working to meet what they've asked of her and somehow never measuring up. not like aelwyn, who's so good at magic, at talking to people, at behaving like a "proper young elven wizard" even when she gets adaine in trouble for things that she does. hacking away at her spellcraft until it's perfect, beyond reproach even as she continues to fail in their eyes.

(a talented young wizard, they call her. able to cast great workings of magic with the barest of material components, a true credit to her class)

she's not elegant in her magic. not like her father with his delicate enchantments, nor her mother with her careful conjurations, nor aelwyn with her impeccable abjuration.

no, adaine is a diviner, stumbling around with ill omens, always a half-step ahead and behind where she is supposed to be.

thinking about it makes the breath catch in her chest, makes the room start to spin, makes flashes appear in her eyes, fragments of thought, of memory, of portents. her parents disdain these attacks, calling them simple weakness of the mind. she should be beyond this helplessness, this fear that dogs her every step.

"no, she cannot go to anyone for it. one cannot show weakness like this; no proper elf would. honestly, she's like some sort of solesian mage, all big fuss and minimal results. i'd be ashamed to present her in front of the court of stars. we'll leave her here."

sometimes the anxiety builds so much that adaine lives out of her mind, seeing a day go by in her mind and reliving it with her body, or is it the other way around?

she sees a question on the entrance exam and answers it with the response she knows to be correct, despite never truly seeing it before. the panic builds, tight in her chest and throat, words swimming on the page as her eyes flash white, blank and vacant and yet seeing more, more, more than there is to be seen on the page.

something's wrong, something's wrong, something's wrong.

(this is the day the harpy sinks, taking the elven oracle eleminthindriel with it)

when the letter comes in the mail, announcing her failure to enter the first-year class at hudol, aelwyn looks at adaine with pity in her eyes and a little bit of something more, something ugly and guilty and acidic. the panic rises again as their father finds the letter and shouts at her, incandescently angry at her once again.

"the daughter of a hudol professor and diplomat, failing the entrance exam. they expect more of her than this. it's like she's not even trying to be a respectable wizard. goddess forbid she try to manage herself appropriately. now the only half-decent option is bloody aguefort, and everyone knows how aguefort is."

(aguefort goes to war at her call, some two years later)

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #the bad kids #adaine abernant #aelwyn abernant #elven oracle #bigger and better things #d20 poetic thoughts

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cosmicpancakes · 25 days

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I finally finished this omg!!

TW: graphic depictions of death and stuff, character death, mental breakdowns/panic attacks, stuff like that

Without further ado, here's the oneshot I wrote about that one time Lee Fletcher died lol

Tap, tap, tap.

His foot bounced up and down, tapping the tiled floor repeatedly. His nails were bitten to stumps. Will was pretty sure he was going crazy.

He couldn't just leave the infirmary, he knew that, but there had to be something he could do. The infirmary is empty. Even if it wasn't, his sister could easily handle it. He was no help here.

Scratch that. He needed to leave.

Shooting arrows is out of the question, but maybe he could steal a dagger from the infirmary. A spear, a sword- Anything he could use to help with out there. Ritika was already in the infirmary, she could handle an injured person! She was one of the oldest in the cabin anyway, and more skilled than he could ever be. She wouldn't notice if he sneaked away.

The office chair squeaked as it got wheeled back. He couldn't leave through the front, so looking around, he made sure his sister couldn't see him and then opened the window just wide enough for him to jump in the bushes behind the big house.

It hurt. His arms were covered in scratches, painting them an inflamed pink and his knees were stained with a mixture of soil and grass. A wince escaped his lips. He half crawled, half ran out of the Bush and started running towards the armoury.

It was only when he made his way in front of the big house that he realised the severity of the situation. Campers and monsters ran around, littering the green field with scattered arrows and golden dust. Screams and slashes rang in his ears. After a few seconds, his eyes locked onto the armoury just across the canoe lake bridge, and he made a run for it.

Narrowly avoiding monster claws and spears thrown in his direction, Will made his way across the wooden bridge. The planks wobbled beneath his feet until he finally made it to the other side. Greenery got flattened under him as he approached the armoury. It was a medium-sized wooden shed right next to the looming arena.

Shutting the door behind him, he stumbled through the arsenal until he found a decently functional long sword. It was heavier than he anticipated, seeing as he'd never actually held a sword before, but he didn't exactly have time to dwell on that. Just as quickly as he entered, Will made his way out and through the North woods.

This was where the fighting originated, where the monsters first emerged so he knew this was where he would be able to help the most. He could be useful for once. His legs ached, pulsating from the lactic acid build up but he knew he couldn't stop. He ran and ran, and continued running until he reached the labyrinth.

The fighting next to the big house was child's play compared to this. There wasn't a single patch of grass not covered in blood, weapons, or monsters. Corpses of both creatures and demigods were scattered throughout. His eyes moved about frantically, trying to find something he could fight and reasonably win against.

Lee.

His brother was in a small clearing between a few trees just to Will's left. He wasn't a monster, but leaving him alone would just make things worse, right? He sprinted towards him. Lee seemed to be shooting monsters from afar, helping campers on the main battlefield without putting himself in too much danger. It was a smart strategy, one only he could come up with. He was always the smart one, after all. Will was limping from the pain as he approached him, and when they locked eyes, both their eyes widened.

"Oh my Gods- Will! What are you doing here?" He yelled, his words still laced with concern despite trying to scold him. He felt a sense of shame bubble up in his throat.

"I... I couldn't just stay in the infirmary the entire time! I needed to help somehow, I couldn't stand being there doing nothing while people were dying!" He shouted back, his voice hoarse with the sound of sorrow. Lee's eyebrows furrowed.

"I told you to stay in the infirmary for a reason- and what are you doing with that sword? You can't even use it! You're going to seriously hurt yourself." He insisted, dropping his bow and facing him directly.

"I can help! I promise, just give me a chance!" He tried to point the sword towards his brother, but his already exhausted limbs gave out. The sword fell towards him, slashing the arm he was holding it with, and clinked to the ground.

Will yelped, instinctively grabbing the gash with his other hand. Crimson stained his freckled skin as he stood there in shock.

"No no no no no- This is why I didn't want you out here," He ran towards him, softly cupping his face. "Will. Look at me. You need to go back, okay? Ritika will take care of you, but you can't be out here." Lee's voice wavered as their eyes met. He ran his calloused thumb over his little brother's flushed cheek, wiping away tears that would never have been there if he just listened to him for once.

The quiet didn't last for long, though. His brother's head turned to their right as the thudding of too-large footsteps rapidly approached them. It took Lee too long to recognise that it was a hellhound running towards them.

"Just go!" He pleaded, his back turned as he frantically picked up his bow back up. His fingers expertly pulled the string back, arrow steady as he prepared to let go.

Crunch.

The hellhound ran past him, Front paw bloody, making its way for the crowded field. It didn't even see Will.

Something splattered on him. Like when Connor does a canon ball in the creek, and water covers him head to toe.

It was dripping from his face. His shirt was drenched.

... It was blood.

Lee was on the ground.

He wasn't moving.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

Where is he?

He slowly made his way to him.

He shook his shoulders.

"Lee?"

More blood gushed out of where his neck was supposed to be. It pooled below him.

"Lee, wake up."

He shook his shoulders again.

"I'm sorry for distracting you."

His brother's t-shirt quickly turned from bright orange to a deep red. The only way you could tell it was him was the medic badge he so proudly displayed on his armour.

He wasn't a medic this time. He wanted to fight.

Will wanted to fight too.

Is that why he fell?

"Lee."

His hands were glowing. Flickering? His hands glowed when he healed people. Shallow wounds. Made them wake up.

They flickered. He wasn't healing yet.

It's okay.

He'll wake up.

His hands, still flickering with a soft glow, hovered over where his head should be. Scattered remains of a shattered cranium and pieces of torn cerebrum decorated the pool of blood like lily pads and algae on the surface of the lake. He tried scooping them in one place. His hands were red. Bright, bright red. Dark red. Lumpy. With bits in it. Sharp bits. Small little bits of brain.

Flicker.

flicker flicker flicker

wake up

lee im sorry

wake up

please

im sorry

There's screaming. Did those words come out? Did Lee hear them? Screaming. There's screaming.

"...-WILL!" He screamed. Will didn't look back to see who it was. "Will, what are you?-"

screaming

he sobbed

who?

"Lee- Lee, oh my-" He sobbed. He couldn't breathe. Who was yelling? "Will please, we can't- I can't lose you too, we need to-"

He didn't take his eyes off his brother.

flicker flicker flicker

wake up

Arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him. He fought. He fought so hard.

"Let me go! Let me- I need to-" He scratched them. He scratched the arms. Did they draw blood? He couldn't tell. Everything was already so

red

Bite. Scratch. Scratch.

They let go.

He fell back down. His hands weren't glowing anymore.

Or maybe they were?

He couldn't tell. Too much red.

A voice wept behind him. It grabbed him. The arms. The arms grabbed him again.

they wouldn't let go

he needs to fix him

why wouldn't he let go?

He was dragging him at this point. He fought so hard. Why didn't they let go this time? Doesn't he understand? He needs to heal him. He needs to fix him.

He lost track of where he was. There were no monsters. He could hear them, muffled as they may be, but they weren't there.

His vision was too blurry, too red to make out the details. Wooden walls again. Swords. Spears.

Bows.

He was clinging to someone. His red, sticky hands stained their shirt. One hand was going through his hair. Another hand was holding him.

Where was he?

Where's Lee?

There was blood running down his face again. So much blood.

Tears.

Not blood. Tears?

He couldn't breathe.

he couldn't breathe

"C'mon, breathe, breathe-" He whimpered, his voice shaking. He was crying too. "We'll- we'll fix him, okay? Shhh, breathe, breathe-"

His heart thumped, and thumped, and thumped and he still couldn't breathe

flicker flicker flicker

it's so red

"No no, shhh- I need to-" The arms shook. Their breath hitched. "It's nearly over, I need to go and help them- Just keep breathing, okay?"

flicker

"Stay here, okay? I'll- I'll come back."

Micheal left him.

He sat against the wall, unmoving. Unblinking.

He's gone.

Lee's gone.

Will tapped his foot against the tiled floor of the infirmary.

Tap, tap, tap.

On the other side of the room, Micheal was stuffing backpacks full of medical supplies. 7 rolls of bandages. 3 rolls of medical tape. 6 bottles of nectar.

"I'm missing something," His brother lamented, thinking.

Will watched him closely.

Tap, tap, tap.

Another war. It's only been a year since-

It's only been a year.

It was worse this time, however. More dire. More deaths. All of them could die, if they don't succeed.

Who knows how long they're gonna be there fighting? A day? A week?

Last time it was 3 hours, from what he was told.

He bit his lip.

"Hey Lee, could you pass me the necta-"

Micheal slapped his hands over his mouth, shaking his head. He's gone.

Will stopped looking at him.

His hands were red again. Covered in blood.

His hands never stopped being red; They only ever got bloodier.

Tap, tap, tap.

#fanfic #oneshot #pjo oneshot #pjo hoo toa #pjo #botl #will solace #cabin 7 #micheal yew #lee fletcher #angst #will solace angst #this hurt me to write #pjo angst

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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ugh-to-love-a-boy · 8 months

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DATING SERO, MINA, AND DENKI WOULD INCLUDE!

DATING HANTA SERO WOULD INCLUDE

• Spider-Man kisses I know its probably over said, but he would tape himself up and kiss his s/o randomly.

• hanging out with the Bakusquad and being best friends with Denki and Mina, doing chaotic things that make Bakugo question why those are his friends.

• This man is a gentleman, so if you want to take it slow, he’s respectful and stays within the set boundaries. He would never ever force anyone into something they don’t want.

s/o,• If Mineta was caught staring or he heard him say something about his s/o he would probably tape his mouth shut and get either Mr. Aizawa or Bakugo to do something more,because cause he would probably just get his s/o and get them away from the pervert.

• As stated earlier, he stays within boundaries, so when it comes to PDA, he doesn’t really have a problem with it. He’s fine with hand-holding hugs and kisses if you are too great, but if you are not, he’s respectful of that and just sticks to hand-holding.

• Though I feel like he would definitely be affectionate, cuddles in the commons, watching movies with the bakusquad, or just in your room or in his, and forehead kisses are probably what he enjoys both receiving and giving, though if his s/o is too short, he’s okay with just hand kisses.

• and he probably gives you adorable little gifts, nothing costly, given the fact that you’re both just high schoolers.

DATING DENKI KAMINARI WOULD INCLUDE

• You would have to put up with his atrocious flirting skills, though after a while you’d think it’s cute how he still tries to win you over when you're already his and he’s yours.

• You now have a portable outlet anywhere you go. Your phone needs charging. He’s got your hearing aids. He’s got you literally anything that requires electricity. He would use his quirk for it.

• Now hanging out with the bakusquad is really fun. Being close friends with Mina and Sero, you would almost always be up to your weird shenanigans. Kirishima loves you and Denki together, but he’s running out of energy trying to keep Bakugo calm.

• If he caught Mineta, his (now former) friend, talking about his s/o, he would not be cool about it; he would most likely scream about it, getting the attention of half the dorms instantly, including Mr. Aizawa, who was not happy about Mineta yet again being a pervert.

• This man is a simp for his s/o, and he wants everyone to know they are his, so hand-holding and quick kisses throughout the day make him happier than anything.

• As stated above, he’s affectionate, so everyone knew you were dating within a couple of hours, but the poor Bakusquad had the worst of it; they had to see his flirting with you and the cuddling anytime they hung out.

• Now, when he’s nervous, it’s not very rare that he would accidentally shock you while holding hands in training camp. You were holding hands when the attack began, and he shocked you.

DATING MINA ASHIDO WOULD INCUDE

• late-night sleepovers Either she is sneaking into your room because she is bored, or you are sneaking into her room because you are bored.

• random shopping sprees with Momo and what you two can’t afford; that’s why you have Momo.

• Hanging out with the Bakusquad is a given, and being besties with Kirishima while things get crazy somehow means Bakugou doesn’t try to kill you two.

• skin care/self-care nights with the girls every week, just going over the random things that take place at UA

• Personal alone time is sweet; she is a very affectionate girlfriend, holding piggyback rides, kisses, and cuddling the whole 9-yard

• If she so much as thought Mineta was staring at her, she would threaten to burn his eyeballs right out of his body with her acid, and if she heard him say anything, she would threaten his tongue next.

• From her bubbly nature, she is friends with almost everyone, so with you together, you are also friends with almost all of Mineta and a handful of people from 1-B.

• You are always either hanging out with her or talking, and if you are not fine, it's not like a codependent relationship; you just bring out the best in each other.

#denki kaminari #mha denki #denki x reader #denki x y/n #bnha denki #mina ashido #mina mha #mha mina #mina ashido x reader #mina x reader #mina x y/n #sero hanta #sero x reader #sero x y/n #sero x you #mha #mha headcanons

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lesbianoms · 9 months

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Consider this:

A seemingly classic office rom-com but in a world with vore dynamics. One coworker that a bunch of others are fighting over, except they’re not necessarily interested in dating her so much as they are eating her.

The new girl who gets the job is straight out of a heteronormative dreamland. She’s naive and shy, but a hard worker who’s ultimately looking for love. She’s lasted this long in her career and she feels like it might finally be time to find a partner, and what better place to look than a heavily populated office building? She’s finally ready for romance!

Oh, and she also happens to be prey.

She shows up the first day and the office is ripe with hungry tension. All the other people there– the secretaries and receptionists, the men by the water cooler, and the women dressed in business suits or long skirts– they’re all staring at her, licking their lips idly. It’s like she’s a fresh piece of meat to them.

And then her heart just begins beating furiously as she realizes that the office is completely made up of predators.

But the new girl quickly puts up a front and smiles, eager to make a good first impression on her first day at work. Besides… she’s worried that they can smell her fear.

I like to imagine that the office is mostly female driven, so throughout the day the new girl is surrounded by hungry women who eye her up and down, wanting nothing more than to fill their bellies with her. Some of them might try to lull her into a false sense of security… maybe they compliment her on her fashion sense, or tell her how nice her perfume smells, or maybe a few of them invite her over into another room for some “girl talk.”

And maybe, just maybe, the new girl reluctantly accepts. After all, she does miss the downtime she had during her old job, the casual chats with her coworkers about life and men and the intricacies of doing your makeup right and all that other boring filler stuff. She convinces herself that she wouldn’t be that appetizing to them anyways.

And as she falls prey to her naïveté once more, she also falls prey to the women. They all jump on her and attack like the hungry preds they are, biting and licking her, tasting her, until one gets a steady hold of her, drags her possessively away from the group, and greedily swallows her down.

The new girl kicks and struggles in the pred’s gut, begging her to be let out and feeling her preyish fear kick into overdrive. The other women stare at their coworker in annoyance and jealousy, and she just grins, flashing her teeth and rubbing her swollen gut victoriously. Everybody else rolls their eyes and leaves. Oh well, maybe they’ll get lucky when the next meal comes along…

After work, the pred goes home, cradling her gut and cooing to the girl in her belly, telling her what a filling meal she made and how she actually lasted longer than most of the prey that worked in the office before her. She belches loudly, yawns, and makes her way upstairs, eager to sleep off her sweet little treat.

As the pred falls asleep the prey feels herself getting sluggish, losing the battle to the stomach acids. Her entire career, her search for love, her lifespan– all cut short by the churning walls of some hungry lady’s gut. Everything goes numb and dark…

And then, the new girl discovers something incredible about herself, something she’d never had any way of knowing before.

She can reform.

She wakes up in her own bed, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Everything feels too bright. It wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t; she’d just been digested, she should have been dead. And yet somehow, somehow she was still laying there, breathing and thinking and feeling like she’d always done every morning of her life. She was still living. She’d survived.

A confident, wide grin spreads across her face.

She shows up at work the next day, shocking everyone, especially the girls who’d fought over her the day prior. The pred that ate her actually becomes a bit pale and flustered. None of them have ever experienced a meal coming back to haunt them.

Throughout the rest of the series, the new girl flaunts herself to her coworkers, teasing them and offering herself up on a silver platter, only to slip away in the morning and leave their bellies emptier than she’d entered them. She builds up a reputation for being a fulfilling catch, too, squirming and writhing and stirring up a myriad of wonderful feelings in the pred’s body. Some of them are even encapsulated by her as a person, rather than a meal. There are office bets started up, debating who’s stomach she enjoys being in the most. The female pred from before finds herself fantasizing about being asked on a dinner date by the prey.

She actually grows to become a somewhat respected member of the company, spending her days heading boardroom meetings and her nights gurgling away in the depths of some lucky colleague’s belly.

Ultimately, she ends up leaving the office a better place than she found it. Her preyish nature makes a lot of the preds more opened-minded, and maybe they start hiring other prey around the office without any ulterior motives. Maybe some of them start holding memorial services for the prey coworkers that they’d eaten in the past. Collaboration reaches an all time high as preds realize they don’t need to be competitive anymore.

Sure, the work environment can be a little tense at times. The “new girl” is still prey, after all, surrounded by an office of hungry preds. That will never change. But this time around, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#vore writing #soft vore #reformation #safe vore #tw digestion #f/f vore #digestion #any genders can work but i like my noms with a yuri twist #vore story #vore talk #same size vore #unwilling prey #willing prey #fandom I can’t tag #character i can’t tag #v.ore #v0re #why did i get emotional at the end? lol #minors dni

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sapphorror · 4 months

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Short Moderate Length List of Small(ish) Things I Appreciate About The Wettening

Dib being conspicuously absent from the opening pan of the classroom, only to cartoon-teleport into existence at Zim’s desk the second Zim starts expressing mild apprehension at the sight of unfamiliar weather. This kid spends his time just hanging around staring at Zim, waiting for him to show the slightest sign of discomfort, confusion, or unease in order to immediately taunt him about it—and the surrounding chaos, if anything, is just an opportunity to come watch even more closely. We all already knew this, but it still kills me to see it in action.

Also, he’s animated popping up from below, and like… were we meant to interpret this as him just chilling underneath Zim’s desk? No, absolutely not—but is it funny (and, to add to the hilarity, miraculously somehow not completely unbelievable within the context of the show) to imagine that he was? Yes. Yes it is.

Zim confidently walking out into a downpour he has already confirmed to be acidic just because Dib implicitly dared him to—no one’s looking, Dib hasn’t even said anything or made a claim against his humanity, Zim just can’t stand to give Dib the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable or afraid of something (which backfires pretty spectacularly, since I’m pretty sure ‘writhing on the ground shrieking in indescribable agony’ is a significantly worse look in terms of appearing vulnerable, but all’s well that ends in Victory For Zim, I guess).

Also Zim's little baffled gesture right beforehand like he's silently asking Dib to confirm he's not hallucinating the rain dance (he does not receive an answer)

Gaz presumably seeing Zim sneaking up behind her brother, saying nothing and making no reaction that’ll tip Dib off… only to immediately be made to regret her choices when she gets caught in another splash. Shows her for trusting Zim to be at least a little bit cool about tormenting Dib (honestly, we see her exact fitting justice on Dib at the end of the episode, but I cannot imagine she wasn't still planning to do something equally petty to Zim).

The faucet drip scene and the underlying awareness that this is just what Zim and Dib do to each other during class. Every day. It is, in fact, probably one of the least disruptive forms their constant warfare takes on a routine basis. Suddenly I understand a little bit of why their entire class hates them.

Also Dib’s happy face while he's terrorizing Zim into a shell-shocked stupor is absurdly cute and heartwarming. If I cropped that picture no one would ever guess what he's smiling about. This kid? A sadist? Impossible.

“I don’t even feel good about winning this one,” and it's said with his hands clasped together, practically vibrating with glee, his expression vaguely reminiscent of a teenager in the throes of hormonal infatuation (the hypothetical object in this case not so much being Zim himself as a personified abstraction of Zim’s suffering). If someone hit him with the Return of Keef happy goo in this exact moment, I am completely certain it would kill him. His statement is only true insofar that a more accurate term for his current state of being would probably be euphoric. I take back everything I’ve ever said about Zim being unreasonable in this episode—he was merciful.

Also this face the moment Zim gets up and starts threatening him. Zim still isn't even all that intimidating at the moment, but Dib knows he just fucked up. Maybe he's getting flashbacks to Dark Harvest.

Dib’s ridiculous water balloon device. Seriously. I feel like it gets (reasonably) overshadowed by the sheer absurdity of Zim’s entire operation, but it really is so amazingly stupid and pointless in a way that is… not dissimilar to the ultimate Irken water balloon. Not only is it really not necessary for the task it's meant to accomplish, it's actively detrimental in that it slows Dib down, blatantly telegraphs his attacks, and reduces accuracy by a significant degree. The only actual benefits I can think of would be the exponential increase in force and range and the instant accessibility of a water supply—the former of which is totally unnecessary in this scenario and the latter being possible to accomplish with a much simpler device (or even just… a water tank). To summarize, it is an incredibly impressive feat of both skill and creativity in design that is also completely and utterly useless! Which is just the perfect demonstration of what I mean when I say Dib really does share nearly all of Zim’s flaws, just to a less obviously ridiculous degree—he comes off just calm and clever enough to pass as moderately reasonable at a glance, and in some ways, that makes him more of a potential flight risk than Zim. At least that's a lunatic you see coming.

Irkens are collapsible, apparently

#invader zim #zim #dib #gaz #meta #just a little #my meta #iz posting #zadp #natterings #for the record i am not unaware of the irony in saying zims the lunatic you see coming #when the empire was ultimately surprised by the worst of his crimes enough times over that he was able to commit them all #and even now after impending doom 1 and the trial he is STILL consistently underestimated in the damage he can continue to do #whereas dib has spent his entire life being called crazy by literally everyone he knows (and many he doesnt)#all for ENTIRELY the wrong reasons #but hey #thats exactly the kind of counterintuitive comedy that the iz universe runs on #anyway i may or may not do this for more episodes as i rewatch with my sibling #or honestly just in general #because there is nothing i enjoy more than pointing out tiny details that are entertaining to no one besides me #i've always been especially fond of the wettening though #like literally always dating back to when i was 7 #probably earlier but my memories only go back so far #its very fun seeing how wildly the specifics of how i love this show have drifted over the years #favorite episodes. favorite characters (i mean always gaz on some level but the ones that plague me the most)#but it is sometimes even better to observe the very specific points that have remained constant #if still evolving in complexity

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sandy-bane · 3 months

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The Savior

The fantasy of a fictional crush saving you when you're hurt. Kept it in my head in then on Google Drive for a bit too long. Enjoy!

Summary: Tav is dangerously injured during the battle. She is only a step away from death, but Astarion won't let it happen. He needs to save her, and later Tav will thank him in her own way.

Word count: 10K

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav

Warnings: 18+, fingering, PiV sex, a bit of dom!Astarion, fluff, blood drinking

The battlefield was a chaos of clashing steel, arcane sparks, and guttural goblin cries. Astarion danced through the crowd, his crimson eyes gleaming with predatory excitement as he dispatched one goblin after another. Lae'zel's and Karlach’s fierce battle cries filled the air as they swung their massive blades, carving paths through the enemy ranks. Gale and Halsin stood back, casting spells with precise incantations, while Shadowheart's divine powers smote the goblins with radiant energy.

Tav fought valiantly beside them. The sorceress was selflessly throwing one spell after another, exchanging satisfied looks with Astarion who kept near her. They have been having something like a relationship for a while now. Tav struggled to understand sometimes if Astarion was serious enough about them or he was manipulating her by force of habit. No wonder their relationship had a fair amount of trust issues. What could go wrong between a couple of traumatized elves who crave closure but can’t let anyone too close? Nevertheless, it was fun. Tav was more reserved, while Astarion took a more risky view on things. Somehow they managed to balance it out.

The goblins were… Somehow different this time. Their weapons glinted with a sinister aura, and their attacks were more coordinated. Even the ambush was so well done and well planned that no one from the party could have predicted it. It was extremely difficult to even lessen the amount of goblins. As if something was protecting them and giving them confidence to fight back.

Tav could feel the drain on her powers with each spell. They have been fighting for too long, longer than they planned to. They thought that taking out a bunch of goblins was a snack, but it turned out to be a full course. Tav’s breaths came in ragged gasps, and her movements grew sluggish. In the midst of the chaos she did not notice how Astarion proceeded further and a goblin who sneaked closer to her. The goblin's cruel blade cut her armor open and pierced her flesh. A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips, and she stumbled, her vision blurring. Something was wrong. That did not feel like a regular wound. The skin under her armor was burning, as if someone poured acid in the cut. Half-conscious, she collapsed to the blood-soaked ground. Tav was in such pain like never before, however, she couldn’t ask for help. As she opened her mouth, the words couldn’t escape it. This couldn’t be it, could it?

The goblins who were still alive, began to retreat, their eerie weapons gleaming as they vanished into the shadows. Battlefield was dusty, covered with a thick cloud of fog. Astarion quickly looked around searching for everyone. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, Karlach, Gale, Halsin… Where is Tav? There she was, down on the ground, not moving. Not a good sign. Astarion rushed to Tav's side, his eyes wide with alarm. She was laying on the ground, and not reacting to anything that happened around. Her eyelids fluttered a bit, struggling to open. Tav’s breathing was hard and abrupt, as if she struggled for air. Astarion kneeled next to her.

"Look at me, Tav," he urged, his voice laced with genuine concern. He gently turned her face. Tav's eyes remained half-lidded, and her breathing shallow. She was in pain, no doubt.

Worry gnawed at Astarion as he examined Tav. There, on her side, was a massive cut through her armor. He could not smell her familiar blood, which was weird. He looked closer at her bleeding wound. Tav’s blood was unsually dark mixed with thick green liquid. Astarion's brow furrowed, his mind racing to understand the nature of this bizarre wound. It was unlike anything he had encountered before, and the sight sent a shiver down his spine. Astarion gently cradled Tav to his chest, holding her close.

"Tav, please, look at me," Astarion whispered so quietly he was not even sure Tav heard him.

"Gods," Shadowheart muttered, kneeling beside Tav's prone form. She and Halsin exchanged worried glances as they attempted to channel their energies to heal her wounds.

But despite their efforts, Tav did not react even a bit. Her eyes were still unfocused, breathing became rapid. Shadowheart's hands trembled slightly, and Halsin’s brow furrowed in frustration as his spells failed to take effect. Tav was grunting in pain, trying to remain conscious.

Astarion couldn't bear to see Tav in such a state. She was the only one who would listen to him, who would not judge. He felt alive next to her. He finally had a purpose. He could trust at least someone. It was still difficult for Astarion to be vulnerable in front of the others. Even in front of Tav he would put on his evil mask sometimes, despite her being fully accepting of him. She was open about her feelings and thoughts, even though sometimes Astarion wished she was more quiet. Not that he did not like being liked and cared for, but it was a challenge to be genuinely affectionate back.

"We stopped the bleeding, but…" Shadowheart’s voice pulled Astarion out of his thoughts. "It still looks really bad. The wound is not healing as it should, something is wrong."

"I tried to make her pain less intense or put her to sleep until she gets help, but… Nothing," Gale exhaled in disappointment as he kept his arm above Tav’s forehead.

"I have never seen anything like this," Halsin looked at Astarion, his eyes full with concern.

Astarion gently and slowly lifted Tav into his arms. Tav groaned in pain, when he slightly touched her wound. Astarion’s eyes locked on Tav’s pale face. He has never seen her so broken and weak. Even in extreme pain, Tav would keep her face until she’s alone and can let go of everything.

"We can't save her here," Halsin interrupted Astarion’s chain of thought. "Spells are useless. We need to find a healer, now. Preferably someone who’s stronger than me and Shadowheart combined."

Lae'zel, still coated with goblin blood, stepped forward. "There's a village nearby, not a long walk if we rush," she said while trying to steady her breath. "There we might find a healer. We need to leave right now."

Without further hesitation, everyone rallied behind her. Astarion carefully held Tav in his arms, mindful of her injuries, as they rushed toward the distant village. The green liquid staining his clothes and hands went unnoticed; his sole focus was on getting Tav the help she needed.

Tav's vision swayed in and out of focus as she tried desperately to keep her eyes on Astarion's face. Each breath felt like a laborious effort, and the pain coursing through her body threatened to consume her. She wanted to speak, to reassure Astarion that she will be fine, but her eyelids felt unbearably heavy, and she couldn't move a muscle. Fear gripped her, as she tried to grab on Astarion’s sleeve to draw his attention.

"Easy, my dear," he murmured, his voice trembling with worry. "We'll get you help. Just hold on a little longer."

"It hurts… Really bad…" the sorceress breathed out.

"I know, darling. We will get you fixed, don’t worry."

As the party reached the busy street of the village, they were met with wary, fearful gazes from the villagers. They were all humans. Probably, hiding out here in the middle of nowhere from something dangerous. Hostility was expected from villagers, as newcomers were heavily armored and covered in blood and dirt. This could not be a good sign for a peaceful village.

Karlach shouted out, asking for help from villagers, who were just staring. No one reacted to her pleas. The villagers exchanged nervous glances, unsure of outsiders who had brought a wounded companion into their midst. Some looked at Tav’s oozing wound with disgust.

Astarion’s patience was fraying with each passing second, he couldn't bear the silent scrutiny. "Enough of this!" he bellowed, his tone sharp as a dagger. "We have someone here who was protecting this village from goblins and is now in dire need of help! If not for this young lady, you all would probably be a pile of ash by now!"

It wasn't entirely true, but Astarion's desperation and frustration pushed him to stretch the truth. He couldn't stand the idea of people just staring while Tav's life hung in the balance. Astarion could practically feel her life slipping away with every deep labored breath and her grip becoming less and less tight on him.

Amidst the hesitant crowd, a little girl, no older than ten, approached with timid steps. Her wide eyes darted between the battle-weary crowd, and she clutched a ragged doll tightly in her small hands. In a shaky voice, she said, "I...I know someone who might help."

Karlach knelt down to her level. She knew that a kid would be absolutely terrified to talk to Astarion or Lae’zel. And neither of them would be nice to a kid even if they’re trying to help. "Please, lead us to someone who can help. Our friend is hurt, and we need all the help we can get."

At first, the child indeed looked lost and scared. Astarion’s nerves were on edge and was was about to release it on the girl, but Halsin’s disapproving stare made him hide it. With a timid nod, the young girl took a step forward, leading deeper into the village. The young girl led everyone to a small, unassuming house on the outskirts of the village. Its exterior showed signs of age and wear, blending in with the rustic charm of the surrounding buildings.

As they approached, the door creaked open. A tall elf was standing in the dimly lit entryway. Their skin was light, and eyes were dark and piercing. The elf's expression was a mix of confusion and concern, and their gaze lingered on Astarion. Astarion wondered for a second, what in the hells an elf forgot in a human village, but there was no time to ask. The elf looked at Tav with concern.

The elf directed their questions toward the child, "Annika, who are these strangers, and why have you brought a vampire spawn with you?" Their voice held a note of caution.

Astarion couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I assure you," he replied, his tone dripping with irritation, "I only feast on animals and occasionally the lady who's currently on the brink of death. So, no need to worry."

His biting remark only seemed to confuse the elf further, but Shadowheart stepped forward to address the healer. "Forgive our abrupt arrival," she began, her tone respectful. "Our companion is gravely injured and in need of urgent help. We tried everything we could, but it didn’t work… Please, if you have the means to heal her, we would be forever grateful."

Shadowheart's sincerity seemed to break through the initial hesitation of the healer, who motioned for them to enter. With Tav's life hanging in the balance, they followed the elf into the small house.

As they entered the house, they were greeted by the sight of herbs and various tools adorning the walls. The place exuded an earthy, soothing aroma. The elf who had welcomed them now introduced themselves as Elowen.

"Please, lay her down here," Elowen instructed in a same cold tone and pointed to the table.

Astarion to gently laid Tav on the sturdy wooden table at the center. He tried to be as careful as possible, but the slightest movement was extremely painful for Tav. The healer wasted no time, moving to examine Tav's injuries with practiced skill and precision. "This is indeed serious," Elowen said, their eyes still fixed on oozing wound. "And it’s too crowded in here, I need only one person to stay with me."

"I'll stay," Astarion did not think twice before saying it.

"Bare in mind, that this might get messy and… Bloody. Will you contain yourself, vampire?"

"Oh, please," Astarion rolled his eyes yet again, "call me Astarion, vampire is not my only trait."

Astarion turned to the rest of the party, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "The rest of you should head back to the camp," he urged, his gaze shifting from one companion to another. "Rest and wait for us. I will try to keep you updated."

Reluctantly, the others agreed, their weariness from battle and concern for their injured friend etched on their faces. "Come on, let's go," Shadowheart said softly, leading the way out of the room. A sense of hope mingled with anxiety hung in the air as they left.

With a nod of approval, Elowen began their work. Astarion couldn't bear the suspense any longer. He leaned in closer, trying to keep his voice steady. "How serious is it? Will she be alright?"

Elowen glanced up briefly, their expression somber. "Her blood is poisoned with a new substance the goblins have discovered," they explained, their voice laden with concern. "I've only dealt with this kind of poison once before, and it's extremely potent."

Astarion's jaw tightened as the gravity of the situation sank in. He watched as Elowen carefully removed Tav's stained and broken armor and lifted her shirt, revealing the deep wound on her side. It was quite an unpleasant thing to see. The wound was inflamed, oozing green liquid. Tav, in her semi-conscious state, grunted in pain and attempted to shift away, but the pain was too much to bear. She couldn't hide her agony.

"Hold her in place, please," they requested, their voice gentle but firm. "This is going to hurt even more than now, I need you to steady her. She’s half-conscious, but the pain would wake up even a dead one."

Without hesitation, Astarion placed his hands on Tav's shoulders, his fingers gripping with a careful strength. He could see tears forming in her half-shut eyes. "Shh, darling," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "You're going to be alright. Just hold on a little longer."

Elowen carefully retrieved a strange device. It looked like a huge syringe with some additional mechanism inside. Astarion have never seen anything like this before. Elowen turned to Astarion and explained, "We'll need to get as much of the poison out of her system as possible. The rest will be up to her and her body to fight off. I designed this equipment myself, if you push it into the wound, it would subtract venom or poison of any kind, leaving the blood in."

"Sounds… Like fun," Astarion looked at the elf with a bit of mistrust on his face.

"This step worked well previously. So you either help me, or step aside and I’ll hurt her more than I have to."

Astarion nodded in understanding, and moved in front so that he would cover the healer. Tav did not need to see what’s happening to her. Tightening his grip on Tav’s shoulders, Astarion leaned closer to her. He knew that what was to come would be excruciating for her.

As Elowen began pushing the device inside an open wound, Tav's weak hands reached out, trembling, seeking something to hold on to. She was shaking all over, trying to escape the pain, unable to scream out loud to ease it. Tav was resisting Astarion’s firm grip, trying to raise her head and look at what was happening to her. Astarion's heart clenched at the sight of her vulnerability. Tav is usually tough, does not like to show that she is in pain. This for her was a breaking point. Astarion leaned in closer, their faces almost touching, and his voice was a soft, comforting whisper. "Hold onto me, Tav, grab my wrists," he urged. "As much as you can and as strong as you need. I'm right here with you."

Tav's nodded and clutched Astarion's wrists with a desperation born of pain. The agony coursing through her was almost unbearable. Despite suffering, with every second it was easier to breathe, there was less pain. Tav’s grip on Astarion’s wrists was becoming lighter.

Elowen, seeing the relief in Tav's eyes as the poison was drawn out, let out a sigh of their own. They turned to Astarion, their expression still marked with concern. "You can release her now," they instructed gently.

Astarion obeyed, carefully letting go of Tav who breathed in and out loudly. Elowen held up a small vial filled with the green liquid. It was shockingly tiny given the devastation it had wreaked on Tav's body. Astarion couldn't help but voice his astonishment. "How strong is this poison?" he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. "To think that such a small amount could do so much harm..."

Elowen's expression grew graver as they considered the question. "This poison is extremely potent," they explained. "It's designed to spread quickly and inflict maximum damage. It quite literally turns blood into green liquid. Blood becomes thick over time and is not able to circulate around the body anymore. Eventually, the victim dies from a heart attack or internal bleeding. The goblins have concocted something truly dangerous. To be honest, I haven’t figured out the final cure for it. Yes, drawing the poison out helps for a short time. But I feel like there is more to it. I tried herbs, spells… Nothing fully helped. There is something else. My research only gave me one clue," Elowen eyed Tav’s now relaxed body from head to toe. "I must say, she’s tougher than the infected one before. So, I have high hopes."

Elowen's explanation of the poison's potency made Astarion feel extremely uneasy. He didn’t want to know what happened to the previous victim, even though it was kind of self-explanatory. Astarion watched closely as the healer began applying a thick herbal mixture to Tav's wound, their skilled hands working with precision. The faint scent of herbs filled the room.

Turning to Astarion, Elowen requested, "Could you help me sit her up, please? I need to bandage the wound and her arm needs attention as well. When you grabbed her by left arm, she was in pain, be careful."

Astarion nodded and carefully lifted Tav into a sitting position, holding her gently, trying not to put pressure on the arm. Was the poison so strong that it prevented any effect from healing spells on other injuries? Tav’s breathing had become more steady, a reassuring sign of her body's resilience. Tav gently grabbed Astarion’s shoulder to keep in place. Astarion held her while Elowen worked on bandaging the wound, and despite her unconscious state, Tav grunted quietly in response. The pain still lingered, but it seemed less intense than before.

Tav tried to open her eyes, but her efforts to focus were in vain, and she still couldn't see clearly. The pain had diminished somewhat, but her body was shivering. Astarion gently brushed his hand across her forehead. His ice cold skin was almost burned by her fever. Worry etched lines onto his face as he felt the heat radiating from her. Tav was by default warmer than him, for an obvious reason, but she has never been this warm.

"Elowen," he said, his voice tense with concern, "she's burning up."

"The fever is a sign that her body is fighting off the poison," they explained. "It's a good sign. Uncomfortable, but good." They considered the situation carefully and then suggested, "I recommend you both stay here at least until morning. Stay longer if necessary. She needs time to rest and recover. I have a spare room where you both can rest comfortably. Besides, I need to finalize the cure, and I have a feeling she might help greatly."

Astarion nodded, his relief mixed with lingering worry. If there is no particular cure yet, how can they be sure Tav actually gets better and survives?

The vampire carefully lifted Tav from the table. She was still weak, unable to walk on her own. With Tav nestled in his arms, Astarion whispered reassuringly, "Let's go, darling. You need to rest." Elowen led Astarion to the spare room, a tranquil space filled with the soothing scent of herbs and soft candlelight. Astarion carried Tav into the room, his steps slow and gentle to avoid jostling her further. He carefully placed Tav on the bed, and sat by her side.

Tav drifted in and out of restless sleep, her fever refusing to subside. Each time she opened her eyes, it was just for a moment before exhaustion pulled her back into slumber. Tav was tossing and turning, struggling to find a comfortable position. Astarion remained vigilant, sitting by her side, worry etched into his features.

During one of her brief awakenings, Tav managed to fully open her eyes. As she focused, Astarion's smile greeted her. However, the moment she tried to speak, she was overwhelmed by a wave of nausea. She sat up and clamped her hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle the sickness rising within her.

Astarion reached for a bucket that Elowen had left nearby for this very purpose. He offered it to Tav and she immediately threw up. "Ew, gross," he teased gently. "Sorry, darling, but that is indeed terrible."

Tav managed a weak smile despite her discomfort. "Well, I almost died, or currently dying, so sarcastic remarks are not welcome," she quipped.

"If you're well enough to deal with my sarcastic remarks, you will be fine."

Astarion took the bucket away. Tav grunted a bit as she was trying to lay back. Probably, as she was nauseous she did not notice the wound that much. Astarion helped her to lay down, gently holding her shoulders. As he sat closer to her, Astarion placed his hand on Tav’s forehead. His ice cold touch was so pleasant and relieving for Tav’s fever. Astarion was about to remove his hand, but Tav stopped him.

"Leave it like that, please," she whispered.

At Tav's request, he left his hand there, offering her some relief from the discomfort.

"Actually, I have a better idea," he smiled. "You need to undress."

Tav raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and disappointment in her expression. "Are you seriously suggesting we have sex now?" she crossed her arms, hissing slightly from the discomfort in one of them.

Astarion's laughter filled the room as he took off his stained shirt. "Dearest, I might be considered a monster, but I have some integrity," he reiterated, his smile brimming with a mischievous charm. "I was thinking of something far more practical. So, do you need help undressing, or will you manage?"

Tav tried to take off her clothes, but her arm still hurt. Astarion slowly pulled her shirt up, revealing burning skin. He helped Tav to remove it, carefully lifting her arms. Astarion laid next to Tav, gently lifted her head and placed it on his chest. At first, Tav rested her cheek against his chest, relishing the coolness of his skin against her fevered body. That felt really good. She couldn't resist the temptation to be closer and relieve her fever. Tav shifted, wrapping her arms around Astarion, pressing her burning skin against his ice-cold form. The relief from fever was almost immediate.

Astarion held her gently, one hand stroking her hair as he whispered soothing words. Tav raised her head, confusion marking her beautiful features. "Where the heck are we?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Astarion's brows furrowed in concern. "You don't remember?" he inquired, his worry growing. "Wrong question. What is the last thing you remember?"

Tav struggled to recall anything after the goblins attacked, her brow furrowing as she concentrated. "I remember goblins, then pain...and pretty much nothing but pain," she admitted, her voice laced with frustration at her hazy recollections.

Astarion continued to look at Tav with concern. "Do you remember anything else?" he pressed gently, hoping that she might recall more details.

Tav, however, shook her head weakly. "No, it's all just...a blur of pain and darkness," she admitted.

Astarion sighed softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back. "You were severely poisoned by goblins," he explained. "They used a new poison, something incredibly potent. We're at a healer's place now, and they've done their best to clear the poison from your blood."

"Done their best..? Does it mean I still have it?"

"Yes, but they also said that your body is strong enough to fight it off," he tried to keep his voice soft and reassuring. "You're going to be alright, Tav. A bit of fever and throwing up, and you’re fine."

Tav let out a weak laugh. "I’d prefer not to puke out my guts anymore. At least not right now."

As she lifted her head, her gaze locked onto Astarion's eyes. The intensity of her look took him by surprise. "Astarion, why are you being so caring and not a manipulative little bitch all of a sudden?"

Astarion's gaze met hers, and he paused for a moment, as if considering his answer. Then, a small, genuine smile graced his lips. "Well," he began, his tone gentle, "sometimes even the most cold-hearted creatures can find a reason to care deeply for someone. And you, my dear Tav, happen to be that reason for me."

Astarion looked at the ceiling. "Seeing you hurt like that...it's unbearable, Tav. You mean a lot to me, and I can't stand the thought of losing you. Who else will be brave enough to tolerate me, hm? You can’t die and leave me on my own, I’ll do a tremendous amount of shit."

Tav's smile widened. Moving was still difficult for her, her muscles were sore, and the wound was painful. But despite the discomfort, she slowly lifted her head and pressed a gentle kiss on Astarion's lips. He responded with equal tenderness, his hand cradling her cheek as their lips and tongues met for a brief moment.

"Well, darling," Astarion smirked, "it felt like licking a hot coil."

Tav's expression shifted to one of offense. "I’m taking my words back, you’re still a bitch."

"Well, you chose the bitch yourself," he said, his thumb brushing her cheek affectionately. "Now, why don't you go back to rest? You need to recover."

Tav huffed in mock annoyance, but the corners of her lips curled into a smile. She nestled back against Astarion, her head resting on his chest. "Fine," she conceded, her voice softening. "But you better be here when I wake up."

"That I can promise you. Or can I..?"

Tav pushed him lightly on the side and turned away. Astarion laughed and hugged her from behind. Her skin was still burning against his.

In the middle of the night Tav started groaning lightly in her sleep. Her face showed discomfort, while her eyes remained shut.

"Love, what's happening?" Astarion asked, his voice filled with worry.

Tav, caught in the grip of some unseen distress, didn't respond. Instead, she continued to twist and turn, her movements growing more erratic. Unsettled, she started shaking, and the room seemed to echo with the sounds of her distress. Astarion placed his hand on Tav's forehead. Her fever seemed relentless, intensifying the room's temperature.

"Tav, can you hear me?" Astarion's voice was a gentle murmur filled with worry, his hand gripping hers for reassurance.

In her delirium, Tav mumbled incoherent words, her discomfort evident as she shifted. Astarion reached for a small nightstand where Elowen had left a basin of cool water and a damp cloth. He soaked the cloth and tenderly placed it on Tav's forehead, hoping to relieve the fever at least a little.

In the next moment, Tav's body seemed entirely out of control. She was shaking, tossing, and turning, her hands clutching at the sheets until her knuckles went bloodless. Astarion couldn't discern whether it was pain, the fever, or perhaps a haunting nightmare that tormented her. His words and gentle touches went unnoticed by the sorceress lost in the throes of her distress.

"Elowen!" Astarion's urgency echoed through the room.

The quick cadence of footsteps echoed in the hallway as Elowen swiftly entered. At first puzzled, their expression shifted to deep concern upon seeing Tav. "What happened?" Elowen approached, immediately reaching for Tav's face in an attempt to examine her eyes. A deep furrow of worry etched their brow as they assessed the situation.

"I... I don't know," Astarion rose from his seat, allowing Elowen to take over by Tav's side. "She just started shaking, she's not responsive, and she won't wake up."

Elowen gently lifted the edge of Tav's blanket, revealing the bandage that now bore the weight of fresh blood, causing Astarion to instinctively move back. With careful hands, Elowen unwrapped the bandage, unveiling the inflamed wound beneath. Though devoid of the ominous green liquid, the state of the injury remained disconcerting.

"The wound has opened, she’s losing blood," Elowen quickly got up. "I'll fetch supplies to stop the bleeding, change the bandage, and clean the wound. It's not uncommon for this to happen, but we must act fast. Keep trying to wake her up," they instructed before swiftly departing the room.

While Elowen were away, Astarion followed their instruction to wake Tav up. He softly called her name, shook her shoulder, but nothing happened. The flickering candlelight played on Tav's face as she continued to writhe in discomfort.

"Tav, wake up," Astarion whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "You're going to be fine. Just wake up, love."

Tav's response was a low moan, and she seemed to settle into a somewhat calmer state. Astarion couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety, hoping that Elowen would return soon.

As Elowen reentered the room, their arms laden with a basin of clean water, fresh bandages, and healing herbs, they started working immediately.

"Complications are not uncommon during the healing process," Elowen calmly explained to Astarion, their focus on the task at hand. "The body can react unexpectedly, especially with the added challenge of the poison. It makes the body resistant to some spells and weakens the effectiveness of others. I'll do my best with what I have."

Astarion nodded, his eyes never leaving Tav as Elowen worked diligently to tend to the sorceress's wound.

"Darling, you need to open your eyes," Astarion urged, gently squeezing Tav’s shoulder.

"It is going to hurt now," Elowen warned, extracting a vial with a mixture. "This potion will literally burn the wound to seal it. If she wakes up because of it, hold her still."

As Elowen carefully poured the liquid onto Tav’s bleeding wound, her eyes snapped open, and she instinctively tried to pull away from the discomfort. Astarion held her down firmly yet carefully. He caught himself thinking that for the first time in a while he was genuinely afraid to physically hurt someone.

"Shhh, I’m here," Astarion cooed, gently stroking Tav’s head. "I know it hurts. Don’t look there." Tav nodded shifting in discomfort. Her eyes, filled with pain, remained fixed on Astarion as Elowen finished. "That's it, good girl," Astarion whispered, his touch gentle and reassuring. Elowen stepped back, allowing Tav to calm down. Tav's breathing gradually steadied, and her tense expression began to ease.

Elowen observed Tav for a moment before sitting back. The healer carefully bandaged the wound. "The wound is sealed now. She needs rest and time to recover. Keep an eye on her, and if anything unusual happens, don't hesitate to call for me."

"Will I even survive this all?", Tav asked, her voice barely audible.

"You're stronger than you think," Elowen praised, placing a hand on Tav's shoulder. "The worst is over now, so you don’t have another choice I’m afraid. Besides, I think Astarion will not let anything happen to you. Just rest, and let the healing process do its work."

Tav managed a weak smile. Astarion continued to cradle Tav, his gaze filled with concern. Elowen gathered the soiled bandages and disposed of them, "I'll check on her again in a while. Make sure she rests."

As Elowen left the room, Astarion remained seated beside Tav, holding her hand as she tried to rest again. The ordeal had left its mark, but there was a glimmer of relief in the air as Tav's breathing gradually returned to a more peaceful rhythm.

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Two days had passed slowly in Elowen's hut. Tav's condition had been a pendulum of improvement followed by sudden setbacks and all the way around again. She had fainted a few times, each episode sending Astarion into a state of panic.

One morning, Tav awoke to find herself alone in the room. She felt a bit better, the worst of the fever and nausea had passed. Encouraged by this, she decided to attempt to get up and walk around, hoping to regain her strength. As she stood on shaky legs, her body wobbling with the effort, she felt a rush of dizziness. Before she could react, her vision blurred, and she crumpled to the ground. Panic surged through her as she heard rapid footsteps approaching, and a moment later, Astarion burst into the room. His face contorted with a mixture of relief and anger, he rushed over to her, his voice filled with frustration. "Tav, what in the hells are you doing?" he scolded. "You're not strong enough to be up and about yet!"

Tav did not know what to respond even if she could. The words got stuck in her throat and tears rolled down her cheeks. She had hoped to regain some sense of control and independence, but now she felt the weight of her own weakness bearing down on her. Tav's tears glistened in her eyes as she turned away from Astarion's scolding words. His frustration had cut deeper than she had expected. She knew he wasn't perfect, that he carried his own unhealed wounds and layers of complexity, but in this moment, she had hoped for understanding and support, not judgment.

Astarion reached out to wipe her tears, but Tav pulled away from his touch, all emotions still clouding her gaze. She knew that she needed to rest and regain her strength, regardless of her desire for independence. Slowly, she crawled back into the bed, her body protesting each movement, but she was determined to recover, with or without Astarion's immediate support.

Tav settled back into the bed, the warmth of the blankets a comforting embrace around her weakened body. Her eyes were still moist from tears, but she didn't want to dwell on the frustration. Instead, she closed her eyes briefly, taking slow, calming breaths.

Astarion stood there for a moment, torn between wanting to comfort her and his own feelings of helplessness. Finally, he sighed softly, his anger subsiding as he realized the depth of Tav's vulnerability in this moment. "I didn't mean to upset you," he admitted, his voice softer and filled with regret. "I just...I worry about you, Tav. Seeing you like this, it's...difficult for me."

Tav didn't open her eyes but responded quietly, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I know, Astarion. But it is not easy for me either. Do you remember me ever being in such a state? Me neither. A little compassion would be appreciated."

Astarion's initial reaction was defensiveness. He had been trying to be compassionate, but it was hard for him when he constantly saw Tav putting herself in danger. "Tav," he began, trying not to sound angry or frustrated, "you don't understand how terrifying it is for me to see you like this. I just want you to be safe."

Tav's voice quivered as she replied, "I'm trying my best here, Astarion. I didn't ask for any of this to happen. I just need you to understand that I'm not invincible."

A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of their emotions hanging in the air. "Tav, the only person who needs to understand that you're not invincible is you," he argued, his voice tinged with worry. "Remember that time in the crypts? You charged ahead, thinking you could take on those undead alone. Or what about when you faced that pack of gnolls on your own? You nearly got yourself killed!"

Tav lost her battle with anger first. "Oh, really?" she shot back, her voice raised and her eyes blazing with indignation. "And what about all those times when I saved your life, Astarion? Do you think I throw myself in danger out of pure desire to be the hero? I am not looking for trouble on purpose, I am mostly covering your ass, so you wouldn't get killed!"

Despite Tav’s body still feeling weak, she pushed herself up from the bed. The sorceress came dangerously close to Astarion, their faces inches apart, her furious gaze locked onto his. The tension in the room was palpable, a storm of emotions swirling between them. "I don't need this from you," Tav seethed, her voice quivering with anger. "I just wanted you to help me get back to bed, that's all. In that particular moment I did not need you to treat me like a kid, for fuck’s sake."

"Well, I'm sorry to be caring so much for you that I can't control myself! You can fall again now, so that I can meet your expectations for once," Astarion bit back, every word soaked in venom.

In the midst of their heated argument, neither of them noticed Elowen silently watching from the doorway. "I think I have a theory," Elowen announced casually biting on an apple.

Astarion and Tav exchanged puzzled glances.

"Tav has been standing steady for several minutes now," Elowen explained. "No shaking, no other symptoms. Earlier I discovered some additional magical influence on the potion… One book suggested that sometimes potions are additionally enchanted to have extra potency. Maybe, with this one an infected target needs to let their rage out to cleanse the poison from the system rather than stay calm and wait…"

The room fell silent, the weight of Elowen's words sinking in. Astarion was studying Tav closely. He couldn't deny that she did seem to be standing more steadily than before. Well, the last time she tried to get up she fell. There definitely was a change in her condition, and he had to admit that something about Elowen's proposal seemed to make sense.

Instead of acknowledging this out loud, Astarion chose to continue the argument. He slipped seamlessly back into the dispute, stoking the fires of Tav's anger. His words were chosen carefully to provoke her, his tone carrying a hint of condescension that he knew would only fuel her fury. "Really, Tav," he drawled, smirking dismissively, "perhaps you're not as vulnerable as you'd like to think. And all that ‘oh, I act like I’m made of stone but deep down I wish for someone to comfort me’ game you play… If you needed a cuddle, you could have just asked, no need to suddenly fall, rip off the mask, and play victim."

Tav's eyes narrowed, lips formed a tensed thin line, her fists clenching at her sides. She shot back with equal venom, her voice shaking with anger. "You're unbelievable, Astarion! Do you think this is some kind of game for me?! I'm trying to survive here, not prove anything to you. If I don’t ask for compassion, it doesn’t mean I don’t need it!"

Their words clashed like swords, neither willing to back down, as their argument continued to spiral into a bitter exchange of accusations and frustrations. As Tav stood more confidently, her body steadier and her color returning, Astarion continued to stoke the flames of th fight. He searched for any weapon he could use to rile her up further, and then he remembered—the incident with the tiefling in one of the taverns that they visited on the way. Even though it was a pure accident, tiefling happened to be extremely horny and dismissive of the fact that Tav has a hot temper, Tav was still uneasy any time it came up. Astarion hoped that when he and Tav were done, she would forgive him for everything he said. A wicked smile crept across Astarion's face. "Remember that time you walked in on me and that hot tiefling?" he taunted, his words laced with mockery. "Oh, the look on your face, Tav. Priceless."

Tav's fury erupted like a volcano. Her cheeks flushed red with anger, and her hand shot out, delivering a slap across Astarion's face. The sound of the slap echoed in the room, and one could practically hear tension between them crackling. Astarion couldn’t help but laugh. It only fueled Tav's anger further, but as she watched him, she noticed something peculiar. His gaze seemed to linger on her, a certain hunger in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Tav's face returned to its usual color, though her eyes still smoldered with anger. Astarion glanced at the bandage on her wound, noticing that it had shifted and revealed a smaller, more healed wound underneath.

Astarion noticed he was getting… Hard. His body responded to Tav’s anger with tremendous arousal. Even though Tav is the hot tempered one, she usually tries to resist impulsivity as much as possible. And angry Tav is definitely hotter than Astarion could imagine. Astarion couldn't resist the temptation to dredge up another painful memory. He remembered yet another incident that had stirred Tav's fury in the past, knowing it was like pouring oil on a blazing fire.

"Ah, how could I forget that time in the forest?" Astarion mused, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "You were keeping a diary, weren't you? Pouring your heart into those pages, documenting your innermost thoughts and secrets."

Tav's eyes widened as she realized what he was referring to. The diary had been a sanctuary of her deepest feelings and confessions, a place where she had poured her soul. But one day, she had discovered it missing, and it had never been returned.

With a chilling precision, Astarion continued, his voice dripping with malice as he recounted the cruel act from his own perspective. "You know, darling," he began, his tone icy, "I happened upon your precious diary one day. Oh, the things I read within those pages. Your innermost thoughts, your deepest secrets, all laid bare for me to peruse."

Tav's eyes widened with shock and anger as she realized the extent of his betrayal. Astarion relished in the discomfort he was causing her, his cruel words painting a vivid picture of his actions. "And then," he continued, his voice low and malicious, "I simply left it out in the woods. Nature had its way with your precious confessions, and I can only imagine the delight the forest creatures took in devouring your most intimate musings."

That was partially a lie. He never left that diary out in the woods, he kept it to himself. Why did he do it? He didn’t know.

Tav's jaw clenched as she listened, her eyes becoming even angrier. Her patience had worn thin, and she was reaching her breaking point with Astarion's deliberate provocation. In the height of her rage, Tav couldn't contain herself any longer. She pushed Astarion to the ground with surprising strength, her hands locking around his neck. Her face was contorted with fury as she yelled at him. "You're such an asshole, Astarion!" she spat out, her grip tightening on his neck. "If you don't shut up, I swear I'll put a stake through your ribs! How could you do this?! I will fucking kill you right now!"

Just as things were escalating dangerously, Elowen intervened, their calm voice cutting through the anger like a soothing balm. "That's enough, Tav" they said firmly while pulling Tav away. "Let's take a look at your wound."

Tav's fury didn't dissipate immediately, but she reluctantly released her hold on Astarion, her breathing heavy with the remnants of her anger. The room was filled with a heavy silence as they turned their attention to her injury. As the healer examined Tav's wound, they were met with a surprising sight – the wound was completely gone, as if it had never existed. A look of astonishment crossed Elowen's face, and they couldn't help but smile. "Well, I suppose this is one time you might actually thank Astarion for being a bit of a... well, you know," they remarked with a teasing grin.

With the good news that Tav was healed, Elowen excused themselves to give the couple some privacy to get ready to leave. Left alone, Astarion wasted no time in coming closer to Tav, wrapping his arms around her. But then, in a sudden shift, he grabbed her throat, causing Tav's breathing to speed up.

Astarion's voice was a seductive whisper in her ear, his words sending shivers down her spine. "Let's get back to the camp," he murmured, his tone dripping with desire. "I owe you for that little chokehold, you little rascal. That fight... it got me in the mood. And I think you deserve to be told off a bit for what you did to me. Very very naughty little pet."

Astarion placed a brief kiss on Tav's neck before releasing her. Her heart raced, her cheeks flushing as she met Astarion's intense gaze.

As they were leaving, she thought to herself, could he really be the one who stole her diary? That was the most painful realization from the fight they had.

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As Tav and Astarion returned to the camp, questions about Tav’s well-being poured in from every direction, but Astarion persuaded everyone that Tav was still weak and needed rest, deflecting their inquiries.

Once they were alone in their tent sitting on the bedroll, Astarion wasted no time in drawing Tav closer to him, his desire still simmering from their earlier argument. He grabbed the back of Tav’s head, luring her into a deep kiss. However, Tav gently pushed him away, her expression serious and determined.

Confusion flickered in Astarion's eyes as he waited for her question. He knew that she wouldn’t push him away for no reason. Tav's voice was unwavering as she spoke, her tone leaving no room for evasion. "I need to ask you something before we get all kinky and messy. Please tell the truth," she began, her gaze locked onto his. "I will be mad if what I suspect is true, but if you lie, I don't know what I will do to you."

Astarion knew really well that lying to Tav now would only make things worse. He nodded slowly, a hint of apprehension in his expression. "I promise, Tav, I will tell the truth," he vowed, his voice serious.

Tav's question hung in the air, laden with tension and uncertainty. She nervously played with a light skirt of her dress. Her voice trembled slightly as the painful memory resurfacing. "Did you really find the diary and leave it out in the woods?"

Astarion hesitated for a moment, then asked her to wait. He rummaged through his belongings until he found something and gave it to Tav. Tears welled up in Tav's eyes, but this time they were tears of happiness. She couldn't believe he had kept the dairy all this time. Her voice was filled with wonder as she asked, "Astarion, why didn’t you give it back to me earlier?"

Astarion's gaze softened as he looked at her, his voice gentle. "I may be many things, Tav, but I couldn't bear to destroy something so personal and important to you. I kept it because… I don’t even know why I did it. I should have given it to you, but we were busy trying not to die."

Tav opened and closed her diary, contemplating his words. Her gaze finally settled on him, her expression serious. "Look, Astarion," she began, "we've had our fair share of trust issues. But I need to know. Did you really read the diary or did you lie about it to make me mad?"

Astarion rolled his eyes slightly. Trust was indeed a delicate matter between them. Nevertheless, he met her gaze and answered honestly, "Yes, Tav, I read it. I didn't mean to invade your privacy, but it was there, and... curiosity got the better of me."

Tav listened intently, her eyes locked onto his. She leaned closer to Astarion and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his chest. Just as Astarion was about to hug her back, Tav quickly switched her position, her hand wrapping around his throat again. Tav didn’t have time to think when Astarion quickly removed her hand from his neck and pinned her on the ground beneath him. She felt how weak she still was, as she could not even resist. Or just didn’t want to?

"Oh no, darling…" Astarion lowered himself and whispered in her ear. "Did you really think you could do this to me for the second time? Now it’s my turn."

Astarion grabbed both of Tav’s arms and held them tight above her head. He knew that being immobilized made Tav extremely anxious. And truth be told, right now he enjoyed it. Astarion could smell fear in her blood, and it turned him on instantly.

He lowered himself to get closer to her neck and that deliciously pulsing artery. At first, Astarion gently kissed Tav’s neck, sending shivers down her spine. Despite anxiety, the sorceress actually enjoyed being pinned down. She would never say it out loud, but her shivering body spoke for itself.

Astarion's lips gently grazed her neck, eliciting a shiver of anticipation that made Tav arch her back. Unable to resist any longer, Astarion sank his sharp fangs into her tender skin, and Tav hissed in pain. Yet, the pain quickly gave way to a surge of pleasure as he greedily drank her blood. Tav started to feel more lightheaded than usual, probably her body needed more time to fully recover. Tav's sensations were a whirlwind of pleasure, pain, and raw desire as Astarion continued to drink from her, their connection deepening with each pull of her blood.

Astarion pulled away from Tav’s neck, a trail of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Astarion placed a deep slow kiss on Tav’s lips, sharing metallic taste with her. In one move Astarion turned Tav around, staying on his knees behind her. He dragged his hand across Tav’s spine to her shoulders, pushing them down, making her lower her chest and keep her lower part in the air. Astarion slowly raised the skirt of Tav’s dress to rest it on her back, leaving Tav’s bottom exposed for him. Tonight he was not going to be nice. He wanted Tav to beg, he wanted her to fall into a thousand different pieces.

In one quick move, Tav’s underwear was down at her knees. She heard him undoing his pants and slowly lowering them. Astarion’s cold fingers pressed between her sensitive folds.

"Astarion…."

"Shh, not a word, dear. You will talk when you’re allowed. Is that clear? Nod."

Tav nodded. If she was completely honest, she liked when Astarion was a bit rough with her. His words and actions were sending shivers right down her wet cunt. Her arousal was growing more and more with every passing second.

"So wet and eager…” Astarion slowly brushed his fingers up and down, smearing Tav’s wetness down to the apex of her thighs.

Without any warning Astarion pushed two fingers inside Tav. He didn’t give Tav any time to adjust as he started moving his long digits inside of the sorceress. Tav was hissing and moaning, waiting to beg for more. Astarion pulled out his fingers and grabbed Tav by her hair, making the sorceress raise her head

"Now, you’re going to suck on my fingers like a good little pet," before Tav could even nod, Astarion pushed both of his fingers inside her mouth. Tav did not waste any time before sucking on wet fingers, tasting herself on them. She wanted to taste every inch of Astarion’s body, and his long delicate thieve’s fingers were not enough. Tav licked away every drop of her liquid from them.

Astarion pulled his fingers out of Tav’s mouth and pressed her head to the floor again. She felt him work his way up from her wet pussy upwards. Tav slightly shifted, as she felt one of Astarion’s long cold digits being dangerously close to her ass. He slowly pushed a finger inside, making Tav hiss from an uncomfortable feeling. Astarion added the second finger, stretching her even more. He moved his fingers carefully, stretching them apart a little. Every little movement made Tav instinctively shift away, but a firm slap on the butt cheek kept her in place.

"Now, little love, tell me what you want me to do."

"I want your cock inside me."

"Aren’t you forgetting something?" Astarion slightly curled his fingers inside Tav’s ass.

"Please…" she moaned, grabbing onto the pillow.

"Good girl."

In one quick move, Astarion pushed his whole length in. Tav’s eyes rolled back with a sudden sensation. She felt too full, it almost felt surreal. Astarion’s fingers moved together with his dick, making Tav push back, trying to ride him.

"No, no, we don’t do that," Astarion placed another firm slap with his free hand. "You either beg, or I’m telling you what to do."

As Astarion’s moves became faster, Tav knew he was close. He won’t let her cum today, she was almost sure about that. Did she like being this degraded? Oh yes she did. She tried to keep her life in her full control. She kept her anger and emotions bottled up inside. From time to time Tav did not know what to do and where to run from herself. For once she wanted someone to command her what to do. Even if it was only during sex.

Suddenly, Tav’s vision became blurry. Her nausea returned, making her shift uncomfortably. Probably, she wasn’t fully recovered yet, and her organism couldn’t take the sensory overload. Fear filled her body from head to toe. Anything she would say would be taken as a part of the game.

"Astarion…" she said quietly.

"Did I…" he started in a pretentious, serious manner.

"Stop, please," Tav’s voice broke as she interrupted her lover.

Astarion stopped moving and pulled out of Tav’s body immediately. The sorceress rolled over and tucked her knees to herself, wrapping her hands around them. Tav put her forehead on her knees and inhaled deeply. Astarion awkwardly pulled up his pants, covering himself only halfway.

"Did I do something wrong?" Astarion put his hand over Tav’s. "Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I thought…"

"No no, I just feel dizzy and nauseous. I suspect the poison is not fully out of the body."

Astarion's grip on her hand tightened with concern. "How can I help, darling? Is there anything you need?"

Tav winced as a wave of nausea washed over her. "A minute, I need a minute."

Astarion brushed a strand of hair from her face and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "If I go too far you can always tell me. And we can stop at any moment if anything is wrong."

"No, like, I want you to go too far, and you know that… But this time I overestimated myself. I genuinely wanted this, I wanted you to be in control, to command me as much as you wish, to fuck me until I’m half conscious," Tav felt tears gathering in corners of her eyes.

"And why are you about to cry?" Astarion sat closer to Tav, their shoulders touching.

"Because I hate feeling unwell! I can’t do the things I like. For gods’ sake, I can’t even enjoy sex."

Astarion chuckled and kissed Tav on the cheek, "As I said, we don’t have to continue if you don’t want to."

"The thing is I want to… I really want to."

"Then we can go slow," Astarion sat facing Tav.

"You know that you don’t have to do everything that I want, right? I know it was challenging for you to be intimate with someone again, so I don’t want to pressure you."

"My sweet," Astarion reached out and caressed Tav’s messy hair, "it is different with you. I have not once felt like having sex with you is just another random encounter. It is something bigger. Yes, at first I did want to just give you some good time and make you fall for me. But things have changed. You are the first person who said a kind word to me, who did not judge me for who I am. Don’t you ever think that I do not enjoy being intimate with you or that I do things to simply satisfy you. Now, I want you to feel better, and if there is at least one thing I can do, I will."

Astarion gently cupped Tav’s cheek, drawing her face closer. His lips met hers, deepening the kiss. The vampire hovered over Tav, making her lay down on the bedroll. Astarion’s hands traveled up Tav’s legs, raising her skirt once again. He kissed her neck, as his fingers drew circles on Tav’s thighs. Astarion’s hands were getting higher and higher, until he grabbed Tav’s butt cheeks and slightly squeezed them.

"Relax, darling," he whispered in Tav’s ear, "do let me know if I need to stop or if I am going too hard on you, alright?”

Tav only nodded and pulled Astarion closer to her. He shifted, pulling his pants down again. Astarion lowered himself to have a better angle and position. He put Tav’s legs around his waist, making sure her hold was firm.

Tav felt the tip of his cock at her entrance, pushing in slowly. Astarion looked down, making sure he controls his movements. He sank into Tav’s wetness inch by inch, making the sorceress arch her back in response. With a final push, Astarion was completely inside Tav, this time giving her time to assess her state and give him permission to move. At Tav’s subtle nod, Astarion carefully and slowly pulled back almost to the tip, and again buried himself deep inside Tav. His movements were slow and delicate, he was watching Tav’s expression carefully as he continued moving in and out of her gorgeous elven body.

Tav instinctively grabbed Astarion’s shirt, pulling it up. He moved up helping Tav to undress him. The sorceress moaned quietly as she saw the perfect pale skin and muscular body. She slowly traced Astarion’s arm muscles down and back up sliding her palms down his scarred back. Astarion swiftly unbuttoned Tav’s top and lowered the straps down her shoulders, exposing her aching breasts. His hand traveled slowly from her thigh up to caress her left breast, while his tongue circled around the nipple on the right one. Tav desperately gasped for air, trying to focus on her feelings. She felt Astarion pick up the pace and change the angle slightly to hit all of her sensitive spots. Tav cursed under her breath, grabbing the edges of the bedroll under her back.

"Tav, darling…" Astarion breathed out. "How are you feeling?"

"Fucking amazing," the sorceress breathed out a response, still tugging on the bedroll.

Astarion smirked as he started moving even faster. Tav felt his cool fingers reach her clit, rubbing small circles around it. Astarion’s touch was featherlight, making her groan his name and beg for more.

"Astarion… I’m…"

"Yes, love, me too," the vampire panted.

Tav pulled him in for yet another kiss. This one was a mess of tongues and teeth, both of them wanting the release to come. As Astarion pounded in Tav’s body deep, she climaxed, grabbing a handful of his silver hair. Her body was shaking with amusement as she felt Astarion spill himself inside her. His body twitched as he orgasmed, his breathing became deep and loud. Astarion waited for a couple of seconds before leaving Tav’s body and laying next to her. He pulled the sorceress in for a hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Promise me something, Tav," he grabbed Tav’s chip to raise her head, "if you ever lose me on a battlefield, please, look who’s close to you. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy saving you, but I don’t want my silver hair turning gray."

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