Anselm Vogelweide - Tumblr Posts
this is so silly teehee i love it
a little series of reader and anselm absolutely destroying the country club game nights would be divine
amazing as always eee xoxox
Asking Bid
Anselm Vogelweide x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •
Summary: A new player at your bridge club is an awful cheat.
A/N: I don't know what this is. I was trying to write the 3rd chapter of Free Ride and instead, this happened. (Also asking bid in a bridge term, you don't need to know anything about the game to read this.)
Warnings: fluffy silliness, self-indulgent as HECK, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 908
It was annoying really, that he had sat at your table. Even if it wasn’t your table really.
You couldn’t help but think of it that way, you’d been coming to the bridge games on Tuesday evenings for the last sixteen weeks. And this was were you always sat.
You’d started coming by accident, your Great Aunt Anne had been going for a little over three years, but had had to stop when she’d moved to be closer to your Uncle. She’d asked you to take a cake stand (a lavishly decorated china thing) to her friend, Rose, at the bridge club. Rose had always loved it apparently, and Anne had forgotten to give it to her on their last meeting.
So you’d gone to drop it off, a five minute job. Somehow you’d been roped into this very serious business of card games and cake and tea that was usually more gin than water.
Plus every single member was an absolute delight to be around.
So you’d come back, week after week.
And it was the first time you’d seen him here. This stranger encroaching on your territory.
Ilse had introduced him as her nephew Anselm, and then laughed at how he was technically her second cousin, twice removed, but that was far too much of a mouthful.
Most of the others already knew him and greeted him with an endearing fondness, while they lavished him with slices upon slices of homemade cakes.
He seemed nice enough when you’d shaken his hand and introduced yourself. Charming even, with his wild hair and little smile.
However, when the first games started, that was when the problems started to arise.
There was a squeak of metal when he moved. Which he did. A lot. More than a lot. More than could be considered just causal fidgeting. He was doing it on purpose, and after he and Ilse had won the first two hands you were sure it was a way for him to subtly signal her.
His glasses as well were shaded with yellow on one side, quirky you’d thought at first, but now you were sure he was using them to hide his gaze when he tried to look at your cards.
You scowled at him, moving your hand and holding them closer to your chest.
The bastard grinned. He had the actual audacity to wink from behind his unclouded lens, practically admitting to his treachery.
You glared back and he chuckled as he laid the seven of hearts.
Despite your best efforts, the cheating pair won the next two games as well.
There was a break for more tea, and cake, and gossiping if you were all really honest.
And you just couldn’t help yourself. You made a beeline for him at the table that had been set up with baked goods the second Ilse had stepped away.
“Hey,” you hiss, lightly touching his arm.
He turned slowly, beaming at you like a trickster god as if he had just been waiting for you to approach.
“Hello my dear, are you enjoying your evening? My dear Tante has spoken very greatly of you, as have all the other lovely players here.”
You’re taken aback for a moment by the sincere look he gives you, the intensity of his gaze not stifling but lifting, making you feel weightless. “I… erm…” You swallow, your annoyance quickly returning as his smile widens. “You’re cheating!” You growl.
“Why,” he places his free hand on his chest, the other holding his cup and saucer carefully, “I am shocked, appalled even,” he continues to beam wildly.
“Don’t give me that, I know you are!” You whisper.
“You didn’t let me finish, my dear.” He takes a sip of his tea, watching you over the china cup, and then pulls his silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket to lightly dab at his lip. “I am shocked that you had the nerve to come over and say it to my face.”
You tut and fold your arms, trying to hide the odd twist in your stomach and shiver along your spine. It’s strange, being this close to him. The energy that he exhumes. It’s like standing next to a tiger. Part of you screams to step away, while the other much louder part is too drunk on the thrill.
“Besides, everyone here cheats,” he gestures to the jam tarts, offering you one, you shake your head, “my dear Tante cheats the most of all.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you so worked up, hmm?” He bites his lips together, leaning a fraction closer.
There’s a pause in the air, he obviously knows why. But wants, so eagerly for you to be the one to say it.
“Because…” You swallow.
“Because?” He repeats, adding a little sing song tone to it.
“Because usually, my cheating is still better.”
He chuckles, thoroughly amused. “Exactly what I thought, you are not used to losing, hmm?”
You can’t help but smile a little, your shoulders relaxing. “Not really.”
His grin widens, “well then, I know how to fix this.” He offers the crook of his arm. “We will have to play on the same team for the next set of games, won’t we?”
His expression is infectious, untamed in his windswept glee. How can you refuse?
You gently slip your fingers onto his arm and his eyes shine.
“Delightful.” He chuckles, “We will make quite the pair.”
Thank you for reading!
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UGH I LOVE REALLYRALLYAUTHOR’S WORKS. LITERALLY PURE MASTERPIECES
anselm x reader x nathan- One Weekend (part 2)
Summary: Final part & aftermath of one weekend with Anselm & Nathan. (~7.3k)
Contents: 18+nsfw, sex machine, restraints, orgasm denial, impact play (only once, but fair warning it's Anselm on Birdie), mmf threesome, creampie eating, attempted kidnapping, voyeurism (what a fun group of content warnings, right, gang?)
Part 1 Here
-----
Nathan has you strapped face down on one of his lab tables.
The lights under the glass make it warm, but you feel like a dissection specimen.
Your wrists and ankles are secured with nylon web fabric and paracord.
Anselm bends over and smiles at you. “I had him add padding to the table. For your comfort.”
“That’s very sweet, Anselm, but you’re both still leaving me strapped to a dildo machine for the night,” you say, torn between wanting to thank him for being so thoughtful and wanting to beg to be set free because this was going to be torture.
Anselm pets your head. It’s soothing, even if it is demeaning. Along with the machine you can hear Nathan wheeling in behind you, it’s that’s kind of the whole weekend in a nutshell.
“Don’t worry, Birdie, Nathan and I are taking shifts watching over you. I’ve told him how we play. Let me feel your stop signal,” he says brusquely, putting his hand in yours.
You squeeze his hand three times in quick succession, a safety you and Anselm had set up a long time ago to mean stop. Just once meant everything was fine.
Anselm takes a leather bite gag out of his pants pocket. He shows you the strap, embossed with a flourishing ‘V.’
“Oh, that’s beautiful,” you say.
“Is it made out of the flesh of your enemies?” Nathan says, walking up toward your head to join you and Anselm.
“No. My enemies are useless, even in death,” Anselm says.
Nathan laughs under his breath. He runs his hand up your arm and over your shoulder.
He squats down, which actually brings him slightly lower than you. He has to look up at you over the gold rims of his glasses.
“You ready, sweetheart?” He says.
It almost sounds like he’s actually asking.
Nathan still has that intelligent, over-calculating look in his eyes, but his guard has gone down. Somewhat.
You can’t tell if it’s a move that’s designed to make you think he’s starting to soften up and has feelings, or if that’s how it’s actually starting to shake down.
“I’m ready,” you say in a confident voice.
Anselm gives you a kiss on the lips, soft and slow, before he fastens the rubber and leather strap into your mouth and around your head.
Both of them walk behind you, one on each side, until they disappear from view.
Your legs are spread already, strapped down the back side of the table while the rest of you lays flat. You feel fingers opening you up more, and you moan around your gag when a tongue flicks your clit, dives into you and starts slowly spearing in and out.
You can’t tell who it is.
You don’t know if you care. If you should care. If Anselm would care that you couldn’t tell his mouth and tongue and beard from someone else’s.
It’s almost distressing.
Then a hand lays on your thigh reassuringly and you feel the metal of Anselm’s wedding ring on your skin. The tinge of anxiety you had melts away and you let yourself relax and focus on, nothing, because Anselm stops.
You hear zippers, and you feel yourself get wetter, anticipating whatever they’re going to do with you.
But all you hear is the sound of skin, Nathan groaning faintly.
And then hot spurts of cum, aimed right at your hole. They hit with exact precision before dripping down the insides of your legs. Anselm comes too, adding to what Nathan started, making you more than wet enough for the machine.
Unsatisfied, empty, they leave you waiting until the liquid starts to cool. The hum of the equipment in the room is the only sound for a long stretch of seconds.
Then, you feel the silicone tip of the dildo nestle up against you, making you jump. Slowly, very slowly, it spears into you.
Both Anselm and Nathan are larger, but size isn’t the point.
It moves ever so slightly faster.
The smooth shaft warms quickly in your hungry cunt. You moan, feeling it fuck into you faster, a little faster, just enough to make your breath catch. Your muscles try to create more friction, squeezing around the silicone.
It slows down.
You make a frustrated sound, squeezing again.
It slows down more.
“Works perfectly. Told you,” you hear Nathan say.
“Your craftsmanship was never in question.”
The men walk up either side of the table, each with a white, plastic chair in hand. They set them in front of you, so you can see them and they can see you.
The machine picks up pace again and you let out short moans, trying to keep from letting it stimulate you to the point of contraction. But it feels so good. You bite down into the gag, almost screaming when you squeeze and the machine slows down.
They sit in their chairs. Anselm folds one leg neatly over the other. Nathan leans forward. He pushes up the sleeves of his sweater.
“You probably guessed how the machine works,” Nathan says with a smirk. “The harder you squeeze it, the slower it goes. Every second that goes by, it’s learning your body. It’ll come to a complete stop for as long as it takes to keep you from coming. Then, it’ll speed up until you’re almost there. Repeat, until one of us turns it off.”
“Although it’s meant to deny you what you need, we’re not completely heartless. It will let you orgasm eventually.” Anselm cocks his head at Nathan. “Won’t it?”
Nathan’s eyes never leave yours. “Maybe. Completely random chance. Odds are, you’ll come once tonight. I wouldn’t say your odds are good for more than one, though.”
You whine into the gag.
Nathan’s hooded eyes narrow slightly. “You want to give up? I’d be disappointed if you did.”
“We would be disappointed if you did,” Anselm says, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward to mirror Nathan’s body language. “Nathan built this for me years ago. A thing of beauty. Perfect, exquisite torture. We conceived this machine before I ever knew you, my dear. In the end, it was never meant for anyone but you. And since you’re mine, by law and rights, I have the pleasure of the first shift. Watching you try to squirm in your bonds, trying to come, but unable to reach your goal. I look forward to your tears.”
Anselm sits back in his chair. Nathan reaches over and squeezes Anselm’s thigh.
“I’m going to do some work, take a nap,” Nathan says as he stands. He brushes your cheek with his hand. “Have fun, beautiful.”
*****
Hours later, you’re drooling on Nathan’s fancy table. Every time you exhale, you moan.
He doesn’t seem bothered when he comes back in. Anselm certainly hasn't been, just sitting there, watching you with a smile. Adjusting himself occasionally.
“How’s it going in here?” Nathan asks as he surveys you with his hands on his hips.
“Entertainingly,” Anselm says. He hasn’t spoken to you since Nathan had left.
Your concept of time is nil. It could've been two hours or two days. You’ve given up on anything but being over-stimulated and unsatisfied.
Nathan puts his warm hand in yours and you squeeze it once. He waits, but you don’t repeat the action, you just hold onto him tightly before he lets go.
“Good girl,” he says running a hand over your shoulder.
He drops into his chair and you swing your glassy eyes up to look at him.
Your muscles have gone slack. The machine is stopped now, having gotten you so close, you'd started to feel that electric thrill, primed to come from where the dildo had been steadily fucking you.
And then nothing had happened. Ripped away, out of your grasp.
You whine at Nathan. You can’t help it.
“Fucking adorable.” He leans forward, looks at your pathetic face. His eyes are more engaged than you’ve seen them before, dilated and anticipatory. “I’m going to take off your gag.”
“Nathan,” Anselm warns him.
“What? I want to hear her moaning. I want my dick sucked. Why do you care?” Nathan’s hand reaches for you but Anselm slaps it away.
“A word.” Anselm rises stiffly and stalks out of the room.
For a second, you think Nathan’s going to take off the gag. Like even though you’d given him the okay signal, he’s not sure about this anymore.
You hear Anselm snap his fingers. Nathan’s eyes break reluctantly away from yours as he leaves.
The machine starts again.
*****
“You’re a terrible dom,” Anselm says to Nathan once they’re in the hallway alone.
Nathan crosses his arms. “The fuck machine that I built by hand means that my work speaks for itself.”
Anselm pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “It’s not about equipment and furniture. It’s about here.” He pokes his finger at Nathan’s chest. “You lack commitment. You’re a pushover. Trust me, my Birdie can tell.”
“Her brain’s leaking out her vagina as we speak. I don’t think-“
Anselm cuts him off. “You are wrapped around her finger. The balance of power shifted completely when you walked in. She’s dom’ing you and you don’t even realize it.”
Nathan leans his head back, offended. “It’s a fucked up thing to brag about, but manipulation is kind of my thing. I’d know if someone was trying to outsmart me.”
Anselm smiles cryptically at Nathan.
One of the reasons they’d made a good team was that Nathan suppressed all of his passions and Anselm let his run free. It made Anselm feel as if they were covering each others’ blind spots. Now, he wonders if he hasn’t been looking at this entire thing the wrong way.
“In so many ways, you’re a fool. I’ve always said so.” He tucks his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “She’s not trying to outsmart you. She doesn’t have to do anything but exist. You’re the one trying to gain her approval, and therefore, you would have freed her before she’d even asked. Clever of her, to have lured you in like that. But give her an inch and she will take your entire soul.”
Nathan scratches his head. “You’re so fucking obsessed with this woman. I’m running a brain scan on you.”
Anselm laughs under his breath. “Run one on yourself while you’re at it.” He puts his arm around Nathan’s shoulders. “Let’s cut this portion of the evening short. Get her cleaned up and rested. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Nathan resists, but Anselm pulls him into a hug.
“Stop,” Nathan says, arms still folded as he stands like a statue. “Let me sit and watch her for a couple hours. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
Anselm steps back, assessing Nathan from top to toe. “What will you do when left alone with her?”
“I don’t know,” Nathan shrugs.
“I thought you knew everything,” Anselm says with a half-smile.
Nathan doesn’t respond, but Anselm knows what he’s thinking.
Nathan Bateman’s always plotting something. Everyone is a means to an end. The fact that Nathan has no plan speaks volumes.
He’d only wanted to enjoy himself.
An attitude that Anselm admires, but one he’s sure is making Nathan rethink everything.
Twelve carries you back to Nathan’s room, while Nathan himself puts away the machine.
Anselm has Twelve lay you on the bed, not into the waiting bath. Not yet.
You’re half-awake, body exhausted. You’d been edged longer than this, but never so brutally. Anselm sits next to you, bending so his beard and lips kiss your neck.
“He’s as taken with you as I thought he’d be,” he whispers.
You only hum, rolling on your side so your hips can press against him. Anselm rubs your thigh.
“You want release, don’t you?” He says.
“Yes,” you say, the word coming out desperate and needy.
He clucks his tongue, fingertips curling toward your center. Your muscles shudder under his touch.
“Your jaw and joints ache from the restraints. Your cunt would come the very second my fingers entered you. Wouldn’t she? Tell me.”
“Yes, Anselm,” you chase his fingers with your pulsing heat.
“Be still,” Anselm says quietly, but firmly.
He brushes his knuckles across the sticky, wet mess between your thighs. You shiver. He cups between your legs, too softly. The warmth is tantalizing, but there’s not enough pressure or movement for your body to feel anything but more torture.
You know you shouldn't move, but your brain isn't in charge anymore. You can't think beyond what your body needs, as much as you'd like it to.
Your hips shift.
Anselm’s hand jerks away and cracks down on your thigh. You cry out, eyes opening.
“You will behave,” Anselm says, his tone telling you he’s not joking. “You can feel what you’re doing to Nathan. Your whimpering and begging almost spoiled our fun. Luckily for you, I’ve been doing this long enough to know when one’s tactics must switch.”
Anselm parts your legs and you lay on your back. He does nothing but look his fill, though. “I want to put myself inside you so much right now. It seems, however, that I’m the only one with any self control around here.”
“Anselm, please.” Your hand moves toward your cunt, out of your control. He hates whining, but you can't help it.
Anselm’s hand slaps across your cheek. Not hard enough to bruise, but it stings. It also brings you back to yourself. As he knew it would.
He gets off the bed, leaving you wanting, but at least able to think through the haze of arousal. He straightens his tie, then holds out his hand to help you up.
“Take a bath. Do not get off or you’ll spend the rest of the weekend with metal clamps on your most sensitive parts. I’d rather not have to actually hurt you,” Anselm says.
He pats your ass as you leave, your exhaustion rendering you quiet and polite.
Anselm looks at the camera mounted on top of Nathan’s bank of monitors. A little pin-prick of green light stares back.
He nods his head at it, as if to say, That’s how it’s done.
*****
Sunday morning
Anselm’s hands wake you. Appropriate since it's exactly what you’d been dreaming about.
He slides them over your sleepy, warm skin, dipping his fingers between your legs the moment you stir.
After yesterday, your body is still primed and ready to snap. All Anselm has to do is finger you, rub your clit gently with his thumb.
Your moans wake Nathan. You ride Anselm’s fingers as he sinks them deep inside of you. Nathan's at your back, kissing your neck. He wraps an arm around you to play with your nipples, twisting and pulling softly. His hard, naked cock rests in the crack of your ass and Nathan fucks himself against you steadily.
Anselm kisses you once he feels you start to tighten around him, so his tongue can lap at your open mouth when you come. You almost sob, your hands holding onto him, fingers digging into his skin.
Nathan shudders against your taut body. Hot cum coats your lower back, running down your skin and onto the sheets.
“Nathan, lay with your head near the end of the bed,” Anselm says, moving you so you lay over him, face-down the other direction, once he does.
You bend automatically to put Nathan’s softening cock in your mouth, but he pulls your hair hard to stop you. You’ve noticed he’s sensitive after he comes.
Nathan seems to know that you’re not in this position for a simple 69.
He raises his head so his tongue can reach between your legs, bury itself until you’re clutching the sheets. He sucks gently, then licks your clit.
He doesn’t stop licking you, even when Anselm lifts your hips slightly and you you feel the familiar push of his cock splitting you open. Your legs shake when Nathan licks gently where your skin is stretched around Anselm.
Once Anselm’s as deep as he can go, he pauses, letting Nathan bring you another orgasm with his mouth. You work yourself over Anselm, your body driven solely by the need to come again. You hear Nathan licking skin, but it isn’t you. The thought makes you so wet you're sure it's all over Nathan's face. Anselm’s hips roll against you.
Anselm moves faster, his head bending near your ear. “One more. Be a good girl. Take everything from me and then Nathan’s going to eat it straight out of you.”
Anselm’s chest is sweaty. It mixes with Nathan's cum on your back, a sticky, hot mess. Nathan’s mouth tries to keep up with Anselm pounding into you. You clench down hard around Anselm, practically screaming for him to come in you.
He does, holding your body tightly to him, praising you for doing so well, coming so beautifully, giving him so much pleasure. He fills you quickly, then pulls out abruptly and lets your hips drop to Nathan’s waiting mouth.
Nathan laps at you, groaning. His lips close around your cunt and he sucks gently. You sob and hold tightly onto the sheets, knowing better than to pull away, even though it feels like too much.
You can’t come again, but you know Nathan won’t stop until you do. You lay your head on his hip and relax just enough so that the next time Nathan’s tongue swipes inside of you and his facial hair grinds on your clit, your body goes over the edge one, last time. You feel like you hold your breath for an eternity, waiting for Nathan to finish eating you out, and for your body to come back down.
You’re both out of breath. You disentangle yourself from Nathan.
His head is almost off the end of the bed. He looks as fucked out as you feel. He licks his lips, but his beard and face are a mess.
“You okay?” You ask him.
He lays his forearm over his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Give me minute.”
You look at Anselm, but his eyes tell you not to worry.
You run your hand over Nathan’s shaved head, scratching it gently as Anselm opens the bedroom door. Twelve comes in with a tray of green smoothies and ice water.
Nathan watches it with one eye. “I’d tell you I don’t allow eating in the bedroom, but I’d be a hypocrite.”
“There’s a proper breakfast out on the deck when we’re ready,” Anselm says. He hands you a glass of ice water. “The whole thing, my love.”
You drink half, pausing to look at Anselm with a raised eyebrow. He seems distracted. You want to know what he's thinking.
He looks at you and Nathan, sprawled on the bed together. It’s then that you see Nathan’s eyes are open again. He’s staring at you.
“What?” You say, looking back and forth between them. “Neither of you can possibly be getting hard again for a least four to six hours, so why are you both looking at me like that?”
Anselm walks away toward the bathroom. He leaves the door open, but you hear the sink running.
Twelve hands Nathan a smoothie and he sits up to drink it. “Why don’t you and Twelve go out on the deck,” he says to you, but he’s looking at Anselm.
“No,” Anselm says decisively, the water shutting off, “I don’t make decisions without her. I’m insulted you would even ask.”
“Fucking relax,” Nathan says before downing the thick, green liquid in one long gulp. He gets up and tells Twelve to leave.
The room smells like sex, but the air is heavy with something else too.
Anselm dries himself with a towel as walks past Nathan. He picks up his clothes and starts to get dressed.
It's like they're avoiding each other.
Nathan grabs his glasses from the desk so he can focus on you. “If you’re as smart as I think you are, then you know we have a problem.”
Anselm’s hands rest on a console table, his back to the room. His head turns just a fraction, enough that you can tell what he’s thinking.
I told you so, he says.
“Stay the week,” Nathan says. He sounds logical, but you can tell he’s being gnawed by something. “Stay a month. Fuck. Stay.”
Your shoulders sag.
Nathan holds up a hand, like he’s negotiating as much with himself as with you. “Just until this can burn itself out.”
Anselm chuckles, deep and humorless. “An idiot and a fool.”
Nathan doesn’t appreciate that. His hand grips the edge of his desk so hard his fingertips are white. “Fine. She can stay. You can leave without her,” he snaps back.
The thing about Anselm is that for all of his homicidal temper tantrums, all his impatience and irritation, usually it only lasts long enough for him to shoot someone.
He gets mad. He gets over it.
But what you see on Anselm’s face and body language now isn’t blind rage. It’s cold and scary. Nothing you’ve seen before. Then again, no one but Nathan would ever have the balls to suggest separating you and Anselm.
When Anselm speaks, his voice is low and quiet, like a blade he wants to slice through Nathan’s neck. “If you imply anything like that again, I will kill you.”
Nathan, to his credit, doesn’t back down. He gets calmer actually. “Maybe she wants to stay.”
Anselm’s beard twitches. “This is not a game anymore, Nathan. She is not one of your robots, who only has the opinions you give her. Birdie, my love, please speak for yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Nathan,” you say as gently as you can.
Your heart breaks a little when you see the disappointment on Nathan’s face. He breathes out of his nose.
“I overestimated you two,” he says before he pivots and leaves the room, not bothering to put on clothes.
Before you can even cover your face with your hands, Anselm is there, putting his arms around you.
“This entire thing is my fault,” he says.
“No, I’m the one who made you come out here. I know you can’t say no to me.”
Anselm smiles good-naturedly, his earlier mood dissolving. “I’ve never seen Nathan make a mistake until now. He thought he could divide us.”
“He doesn't, though. He wants us both,” you say, not understanding.
“Yes, but you’ve caught him by the feelings and he’s not used to it. He knows he can’t convince us to stay, but he’ll try just about anything.”
“Yeah,” you agree slowly, “plus, you called him an idiot and a fool.”
Anselm’s brown eyes blink at you before he starts laughing.
“I’m fond of him. What can I say? Although, you do know that we’ll have to leave today, yes? As soon as we can pack our things.” His smile fades. “I arranged to have a helicopter touch down in the landing field at noon, yesterday and today, in case we needed to go home ahead of schedule. I’m sure Nathan knows, but we’ll still have to convince him to say goodbye early.”
“We? Uh-huh, sure,” you say, noting the look on his face, “and I’m guessing that’s my job?”
Anselm shrugs. “I think he likes you better.”
*****
Nathan’s in gym shorts doing deadlifts at an unhealthy pace. Sweat beads down his neck and soaks the top of his sleeveless t-shirt.
You knock on the open door of his weight room.
“I don’t want to fucking talk to you,” he grunts.
“I gave you a whole 30 minutes to be mad,” you say, breezing in and sitting down on a padded workout bench.
You and Anselm had packed your things and put them by the front door. Anselm’s sitting in the living room with Twelve.
The weights clank and slam together when Nathan drops them on the floor. He wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt.
“You don’t want to leave right now,” Nathan says. “You might not think the sun shine’s out of my ass like you do with Anselm, but I know you’re not ready to give this up yet.”
“I don’t think the sun- well, okay, maybe I do a little,” you say honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you too. I would stay for longer, but when it comes to safety, I trust Anselm more than I trust myself.”
Nathan puts his hands on his hips, his eyes like laser beams on your face.
You realize you shouldn’t have used the word ‘safety.’ It’s given him something to latch onto. Something to base an argument around.
“Don’t listen to Anselm. I’m not holding you here against your will,” Nathan says.
“He didn’t say that.”
Nathan walks toward you. “Maybe not with words, but half your conversations with him are nonverbal. He thinks I’d pull some shit and keep you locked up here. I'd fuck you so stupid you wouldn’t even try to leave.”
You sigh and look away from him.
“I know that I’m not a big believer in the law. It doesn’t adapt fast enough. It’s too conservative.” He pushes his glasses up. “Look, all of my crimes are white-collar. I’ve never kidnapped anyone, killed anyone. I didn’t build an empire on trafficking illegal goods.”
“Neither did Anselm,” you say angrily at him.
“Semantics,” Nathan says, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. Just because his hands are cleaner now, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t covered in some of the worst shit in the world back in the day.”
You try to stand, but Nathan’s hand presses down on your shoulder, pushing you back down to sit.
“If he was really worried about your safety, he would’ve sent you to me a long time ago. This is the safest fucking place in the world. The whole thing is a sandbox, technologically yes, but also physically. It’s so far removed from anything that could ever hurt you.”
You know he doesn’t want you to stay to keep you safe. He’s just trying to twist you in knots. Does he think you’re stupid enough to fall for it? Or is he so desperate he’s grasping at straws?
You shove his hand off of you. “I’m a criminal too. You do realize that, right? Being the head of the Vogelweide family isn’t just a figurehead title. And I killed Anselm’s ex-girlfriend because she cheated on him more than 10 years ago.”
“Claire?”
You look up at him. “What? You know her?”
“No, but Anselm came here not too long after that whole incident,” Nathan says, backing away. He rubs his face, calming down. His are still burning-hot, though. “You know that’s what you’re really doing here, right? He feels like he owes me for helping him put his life back together afterward. He wants me to know he’s not that guy I knew anymore. Maybe he’s trying to fix me too.”
You stand quickly, wrapping Nathan in a hug, even though he's a little sweaty. You know he needs it. It takes him a second to return it.
“He knows it’s not his job to fix you. You’re not broken,” you say.
Nathan’s big hands hold you tightly. He doesn’t want to let you go, ever. He kisses your neck softly, then along your jaw. You stop him from kissing your mouth though, drawing your line in his sandbox.
He lets you go, but keeps his hand in yours. He pulls you to the living room, where Anselm and Twelve are sitting on the couch having a one-sided, fruitless conversation.
Anselm’s trying to get the robot’s opinions on ties. Twelve has none. Ties or opinions. Also, no vocal response capabilities.
Anselm smiles from his seat. “All set, my love?”
You squeeze Nathan’s hand. “Yes, but maybe we can come back some time?”
“I look forward to it,” Anselm says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Although with all the extra rooms in this place, I’m very disappointed that you don’t have at least the basic themes set up.”
Nathan shrugs. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Prison cell, classroom, doctor’s office, apocalypse, vampires,” Anselm frowns. “But I’ll send you a longer list. We do expect great things from our next visit.”
“Yeah, about that,” Nathan says slowly. He lets go of your hand with a regretful look. “Twelve?”
The robot stands stiffly and marches over to the security panel by the front door. He pokes a metal finger in the side. It blinks two words: lockdown mode. Mechanical clicks echo in the living room. You see the lights in the elevator flash red.
Anselm’s face is still friendly and smiley, but your hand raises automatically to slap the back of Nathan’s head. He stops it easily with his arm.
“Cut that shit out. Violence is never the answer,” Nathan says.
“Oh, you are cruising for a bruising, Bateman.”
He looks at you patiently. “Give me 3 days. You’ll start to see things my way. You both will.”
You clench your fists tightly, trying to hold back your temper. “If you don’t unlock this house-“
“What?” Nathan says, his voice cutting and intimidatingly loud. “You can’t do anything about it. No one knows you’re here. No one knows I’m here. I promise, I won’t keep you forever, but I need this. I need you.”
“This isn’t the way to do it.” Your hands relax and you reach for him, but he backs away.
Nathan runs a hand over his head. “I know. I'm sorry, but I already decided.”
Click
You look over and Anselm’s gun is resting on his thigh, pointed at Nathan.
“It’s not loaded,” Nathan says.
“Are you sure?” Anselm says smoothly. “Your reliance on technology is a weakness, Nathan. You think it can predict everyone’s next move, that it knows everything. But if it did, then it would have told you: compared to the things I’ve already done to keep this woman happy and safe, shooting you would be like handing her a tissue for a nosebleed. Something easily done, to remedy a minor inconvenience, and soon forgotten.
“So, my friend, do you really think your technology can out think me? Because I’ve been predicting human nature without assistance for decades now.”
Anselm leans forward, the metal of his brace squeaking loudly.
You look at it, then at him.
Nathan folds his hands under his biceps. He stares at Anselm for a few seconds.
“Twelve, release,” Nathan says quietly.
Twelve leaves the security panel and the house goes back to its normal, peaceful state. Anselm decocks his gun.
“I had to try,” Nathan says, like nothing happened.
“No, you didn’t. You were just being a dick.” You shove his shoulder.
The corners of his mouth lift. “I won’t do it the next time you visit.”
He looks at you from over the frames of his glasses. You don’t respond. He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m pissed at you,” you say, looking away.
“You’ll be back,” Nathan says with authority.
He reaches out a hand to help Anselm off the couch and they hug, Anselm giving Nathan’s ass a squeeze. A kiss on the cheek and a few quiet words.
“Come here, honey. Let me say goodbye to you,” Nathan says to you, a grin ghosting on his lips.
You don’t move a goddamn muscle.
Anselm holds out his hand. “Don’t be rude, my dear.”
You give them both a dirty look.
Nathan gives Anselm an ‘I got this,’ look. He walks over and rests his face against yours. His hands are like iron manacles on your arms.
“You think I showed you a softer side this weekend, but I knew what I was doing. I know you have a weakness for men who have a weakness for you.” He brushes his beard against your cheek. “If Anselm wasn’t here, I’d have Twelve drag you down to my bedroom and you wouldn’t see sunlight for four weeks. That’s how long I figured it would take me condition you to be my drooling, stupid, fuck hole. I’d keep you in a cage and Anselm could come visit you like you were an animal at a petting zoo.”
You lean back a fraction, just enough to look Nathan in his eyes.
He’s not someone who makes empty threats, but you’ve also learned that most of what he say isn’t threatening. It’s a test. Or, it was.
Now, you get the feeling that he’s testing himself. Getting a feel for whatever actual emotions he’s letting himself have. That he’s saying things to get a reaction from you, so that he can react in turn. Not just studying and analyzing, but letting himself have actual, human connection. A messed up one, sure, but a connection nonetheless.
“That could be fun,” you say with a smile.
Nathan huffs out a laugh. “Such a pervert. Unfortunately for me, it turns out, I think you’re interesting. I think you’re worth keeping just like this.” His fingers touch your face. “Don’t make me regret letting you go. Or next time, I won’t.”
He hugs you hard and you hug him too, tucking your face into his neck, smelling that mix of fresh air, sweat, and metal that’s uniquely Nathan.
You wonder if you chartered a helicopter to bring you out here next month, if it would all be gone. The house, the underground bunker, Nathan. If it would be nothing but virgin forest. Deer drinking out of the river that used to run under the house. Not a scrap of refined metal or plastic for hundreds of miles.
It makes you not want to leave.
Anselm’s hand wraps around your waist. “I promise both of you, we’ll come back.”
You turn your head to look at Anselm, resting it on Nathan’s muscled shoulder. “Once a fiscal year?”
Anselm smiles. “Yes, my love. If that’s what you wish. Oh,” he says quietly, the knuckles of his other hand brushing a tear away from your cheek, “this must be the first time anyone’s cried in anything but gratitude for leaving Nathan’s presence.”
You almost laugh, pulling away from Nathan.
Nathan just shakes his head at Anselm. “Okay, asshole, take your wife and leave already.”
He walks you to the front door.
As soon as you and Anselm cross the threshold outside, he shuts it behind you. You hear it lock.
As Twelve drives the truck away, taking you back to the empty field where the helicopter waits, you’re sad that Nathan isn’t at any of the big windows. You’d wanted one, last glimpse of him.
Anselm holds your hand on the drive.
The unmanned helicopter sits in the field. Twelve loads the bags and you breathe in the fresh air as much as you can.
Twelve stands next to Anselm as he helps you climb into the helicopter.
“Bye, Twelve,” you say to the blank, robot face. “I’m going to miss you.”
Twelve shifts, putting a mechanical hand on the side of the helicopter. Like it’s asking you not to leave. Its other hand is on the doorway. The fingers dig in. The slight sound of denting metal hits your ears.
Anselm reaches into his jacket and pulls out his gun. He shoots Twelve in the head. Twice.
Your ears ring and you look down at the still body on the ground. Fluid leaks out of the orb that was Twelve’s head.
Anselm signals the helicopter to start and hops inside next to you.
“Nothing is a simple robot with Nathan. He’s been trying to get me to bring Twelve home with us ever since we arrived. It’s too advanced. I fear what Nathan would do by proxy. He has impulse control issues about certain things,” he says to you through the microphone once you both have your ear protection on.
“Poor Twelve,” you say.
“Please don’t anthropomorphize the machines, Birdie. It doesn’t feel suffering. I’m sure Nathan will fix it for our next visit.”
He puts his arm around you and pulls you close.
“How did you get bullets into the house?” You ask him.
Anselm shrugs. “I always have bullets in my brace. Emergency back-up. It’s why I wear it even on days when I don’t need it. I thought you knew that.”
You look down at his leg. “What? No, I didn’t know that. What else do you have on there?”
“Not much. A bottle opener, knife, garrote. I thought if I had to wear it, then it should at least be multi-task,” Anselm says.
“Is that why you won’t let me put stickers on it?”
“Yes, the glitter hearts and skulls were charming, but they would have hindered its functionality.”
The helicopter takes off, lifting you high above the beautiful landscape.
Anselm had said spending time with Nathan would be spectacular. He was right. Your body’s exhausted, but happy. No permanent marks on the outside, but Nathan Bateman has left plenty of them on your heart.
You snuggle closer to Anselm, happy to be heading home.
*****
Anselm’s been in his office all morning. You’re in yours.
The mansion has been quiet. You and Anselm had done nothing but kiss this morning.
Post-vacation blues have hit hard in the days since your weekend with Nathan.
There’s a knock on the door and Anselm walks in
“Mid-afternoon snack, my dear?” Anselm says.
“If you’re the snack, then yes. Oooh, is that a tie with flowers? That’s romantic,” you say.
You get up and join Anselm on the small sofa in your office. He smooths a hand down the pretty patterned fabric of his tie.
“I felt I had to compete in some small way. Nathan hasn’t stopped sending you gifts.” He gestures to the elaborate bouquet of ferns and flowers that had arrived this morning. A tiny, plastic version of Twelve had been stuck inside of it (complete with two fake bullet holes in the head). It’s sitting on your desk now, after you’d had Godzilla check it for a camera.
Yesterday Nathan had sent bedsheets like the ones he has in his room and a thousand sticky notes. In case you wanted to recreate his bedroom at your house, his e-mail had said.
Andre rolls in with his tray, two ice cream sundaes with long-handled silver spoons sticking out of the top.
You hand Anselm his and then take yours, petting Andre’s head lightly. Anselm gives you a look.
“He’s like a pet, so let me pet him,” you say. You dig your spoon into the ice cream. “Nathan’s using Andre to spy on us, right?”
“Most definitely,” Anselm agrees. “But Andre’s capabilities are limited to serving.”
You lick your spoon and tap it on his head.
“Hey, Andre,” you say to the screen that shows Andre’s pixel eyes and smile. “Maybe next time I go visit your maker, we can limit his capabilities to just serving. What do you think?”
Andre’s face blinks out, then reappears with a winky face. “Yes, Birdie, man,” the mechanical voice states.
“Ma’am,” you correct him. “Now that I know Nathan’s so involved in Andre’s life here, I’m a kind of peeved that he’s so glitchy. It took 3 tries for his name to even show up right on the little screen. And for him to stop calling me Birbie, with 2 B’s.” You look at Andre.
Andre’s face blinks back to its vacant stare. There’s a bit of white-noise from the speaker at the front of his body.
“Anselm won’t let me fix him,” Nathan’s voice says from Andre’s body.
You inhale, mouth wide open. You look at Andre, then at Anselm. Back and forth.
Anselm’s studying his sundae carefully. “Nathan, we agreed-“
“Yeah, but now that I know her, you can’t expect me to stay quiet.” Nathan’s voice is tinny and strange.
Anselm looks at you apologetically. “Andre’s camera is always on. Nathan’s computer system scans constantly for potential threats to your safety. Of course, I knew Nathan himself could control Andre, but we had a gentleman’s agreement that he wouldn’t use it for anything inappropriate.”
You hear Nathan snort. “I’m not a gentleman and you haven’t been appropriate a day in your life.”
“He’s got you there,” you say to Anselm, eating your sundae and thinking it over.
“You mad, sweetheart?” Nathan asks.
“I guess it’s okay,” you say with a sigh. “It’s only fair. You’re out there all alone. If you want a snuggle or a fuck, you have to build a machine yourself. I don’t mind you watching if Anselm doesn’t.”
He licks a drop off ice cream off his thumb. “Now that you know Andre is actually Nathan, perhaps you won’t make him leave the room during our various activities. Perhaps you’d let me slather the rest of this sundae over your breasts and lick it off. Eat the cherry from the inside of your delicious cunt.” Anselm gazes lovingly at your body. “And if Nathan can agree that you are, indeed, perfect, then he can stay and watch.”
You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t have to say that. This isn’t a cult.”
Anselm frowns. “You know I don’t like to disagree with you, my love, but I’d never let someone enjoy you who doesn’t truly appreciate the gift they’re being given.” He pokes Andre’s white, plastic body with the toe of his shoe. “Say it.”
A gigantic sigh resonates through the speaker. “I don’t believe in perfection. It doesn’t leave any room for improvement.”
Anselm raises an eyebrow. “If you’re suggesting there’s room for improvement in my dear Birdie, then the next time we visit, I’ll shoot you first thing. Perhaps you think she’d look better bathed in a mixture of your blood and soft tissues.”
“Yikes,” you mutter, “he’s really mad.”
Nathan growls in frustration. “Okay. Look, how about this? Other than that thing at the end where I went all crazy… last weekend was perfect. I’d kind of made my peace with spearheading the destruction of humanity, but if you two come out once or twice a year, I think I’ll have to slow down the inevitable.”
“Hooray, we’ve saved the human race with sex,” you throw up your hands in a sarcastic celebration.
“I said delayed,” Nathan grumps. “Now, take off your clothes and lay down. I don’t want to see Anselm lick ice cream off your boobs. I want to see you squirm when you get brain freeze through your clit.”
“Is that a thing?” You start to undress.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Nathan says. “Oh, and I fixed Twelve. A few improvements. He’s gonna look that guy from that TV show you like. Or. Guys, I guess. You’ve streamed the thing like, three hundred times, so I guessed you had a thing for him.”
Anselm looks at you from under his dark eyebrows.
You’d truly thought being with Anselm had cured you of ever being embarrassed again. But Nathan looking into your internet activity is apparently still a little mortifying.
“I don’t know if I can make him fly," Nathan continues, "but I can definitely do the costume thing with the cape, and the mask with the glowing eyes-“
“Stop talking,” you say to Nathan.
“I refuse to give him a Cubs hat though, just on principle.”
Anselm folds his arms. “How fascinating.”
You redo the clothes that you'd started taking off. “You know what? I’m going downstairs for awhile.”
Anselm nods. “That’s fine. I think I’ll stay here with Nathan. I’d like a hand in plotting whatever this is. You naughty girl, I had no idea you harbored a fantasy that you hadn’t told me about.”
“I didn’t. It’s not- I’m really not- It's nothing,“ you say, flustered. “Forget it. Bye Nathan. Anselm, I’ll see you at dinner.”
You leave them in your office, Anselm and Andre/Nathan, cackling like old women over a fictional man. You try to be irritated, but you can’t.
They’re just too adorable, the two of them.
And you’re very interested in how their little project turns out.
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V .......
Vampire! Anselm x Reader thots™ up in this bitch
Some NSFW shit under the cut, enjoy the random brainrot I just got
Big mansion with heavily tinted windows, private jets with black out curtains, yachts they ride to see meteor showers together.
They have those big extravagant parties, nobody thinks anything of it. All they're doing is picking through their "associates" to see who is the one they need the least and pull them to a dark corner and drink their fill..... Or they bring in somebody who siphoned funds into their own accounts from their estate.... Makes a spectacle of draining him dry as a warning--
V!Anselm totally gets a hard on when he sees you covered in blood I don't make the rules
Even if y'all have been together for centuries or one year, the man is still a horny little shithead for you, and being alive for so long has definitely allowed his kink list to be exponentially longer than most since being exposed to the Internet.
Sometimes during those public feedings of the stupid little fuck-ups who steal from him, Anselm will ravage the shit outta you in the middle of the party (unless you're not into it, that is, you are his Queen of The Night and he would never disrespect you and make you uncomfortable, the man would rip out his own fangs, first)
Really likes it when you decide to seduce™ him. Pour a glass of wine/blood down your body and he will be on his knees to lap it all up.
Would also un-ironically dress as Dracula for Halloween-themed parties/balls.
"What? It's thanks to Bram Stoker so many people now only believe us to be pure fiction, giving us leeway to exist in the public eye. Why not honor his character? What? Yes, yes, I know he was based on Vlad Țepeș, I was there--"
"Believe it or not, I think I have a cousin who is descended from the real count... I should invite them to one of our parties."
"Why am I not surprised?"
Would totally shoot glares at you if you make him to the "Bleh bleh bleh" thing from Hotel Transylvania, but would do it just to make you laugh. Your voice is like the most addicting thing he could ever have as an immortal.
Despite being an immortal vampire, he has those scars from an assassination attempt; exposing him to the sun and permanently damaging him.
If anything, surviving the sun only served to empower his image more. A powerful man who survived the dreaded sunlight; came out scarred and killed his would-be assassins himself.
V!Anselm will occasionally hold his arm under a beam of sunlight to intimidate those in his business meetings.
He'd feel bad about it later, however, but only in private with you once you expressed your concern as you let him feed from you to replenish his strength. You always do that when he goes "overboard" as you put it; the closeness and intimacy of letting him feed from you instead of a blood bag or some useless employee helped soothe and reassure you that he was all right.
And speaking of feeding from you... It almost always winds up with him inside of you or vice versa in some way... Feeding from one another is one of the most intimate acts a loving couple could do; drinking each other's essence just reaffirms the bonds between you.
And if you guys have a little brood? Oh, the man is unstoppable.
If any children you have are half-vampire because you haven't been turned yet? If they're unharmed by the sun? A testament to the Vogelweide name; his lineage will live on no matter what.
However, if you're still human, Anselm will insist on turning you. Especially when he discovered that someone tried to wound him by attempting to slip something like poison into one of your meals. (Vampires have better senses, Anselm could smell the tainted food even if you couldn't. You never did find out exactly what happened to that guy...)
The first time making this. 😭 also this is in my opinion on how I feel they would’ve reacted, feel free to include your own opinion.
(I went to the shops today and I feel so good right now! 🐸)