#and it was very gratifying and so fun!!

[lorelune]

inversion

|| rin itoshi x reader || E/18+ || angst with a happy ending || wc: 7.2k || ao3 ||

Preemptive grief defines your relationship with Rin. Heartbreak is in the nature of your connection. You are forced to reckon with its end.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: eeeeeee this piece is part of a trade i'm doing with beloved @rabbbitseason :3c they asked for angst + rin and i am here to deliver a bruisy piece 🙂‍↕️!!!! he was an interesting (read: slippery) character to chew!! but very fun as well :3c thank you to @suguwu for beta reading this piece and talking through rin's character as well!!! jun's invaluable feedback rlly helped bring the piece together. please read and enjoy something a bit achey my kind reader 💗

CWs: angst with a happy ending, gn reader with afab anatomy, rin is assumed to be 20+ and playing professionally, f receiving oral, missionary, some possible abandonment issues for the reader

You do not mean to fall in love with Rin Itoshi.

Distinctly, you did not want to fall in love with him. Because he is probably not a good lover, nor does he want to be a lover at all. It’s a poor combination. Being enamored with him is a poor way of being.

It’s unfortunate that you have found yourself in this position— hopelessly in love and irrevocably attached to him. 

... 

Drizzle falls from the sky in a mist. It’s been like this for days, a haze of light rain with thick fog that rolls in during the mornings. You’ve almost gotten used to your hair frizzing up and returning home damp from any outing. 

It’s unpleasant. But then again, everything is unpleasant at this moment, so the rain is the least of your worries.

Rin Itoshi is on your front stoop.

There’s a little cement step there that he sits on. In front of your door, just behind him, is a welcome mat. A large, ceramic cat is set just next to the door. As you walk up to your home, grocery bags in tow, you cannot see your normal, friendly guardian.

Instead, all you see is Rin Itoshi. 

Stopping in the little walkway up to your small home, you let the rain drench you. Rin looks up from the ground with an expression between a scowl and a pout. His hood is drawn up over his head, but his hair still looks wet. The tips of his shoes are soaked through. Even from a distance, you can tell.

You sigh.

“You’re home late,” he says. His words get eaten by the ambient sounds of the city, and the pittering of rain on nearby roofs.

You raise your arms, trembling with the weight of your haul. “Groceries.”

“Hm.” 

You frown and Rin rises. 

He takes your bags, taking them from you and easily looping them on a single forearm. He moves aside so you can slip past him, to your door, now able to see your fat-bodied kitty cat protector (who really isn’t doing much protecting at the moment—) and give him a nod of acknowledgement. 

Rin makes a sound behind you; a huff. He’s amused. You contend with kicking his shin but decide against it.

Like a lost, wet puppy, Rin follows you inside. 

There’s a pair of house slippers for him; there has been for months. The fuzzy fabric of the slippers is patterned to look like big, pink cat paws. You purchased them for Rin as a joke, a gag that you didn’t expect to get a rise out of him beyond a heavy blush, and yet he took to them immediately. His pair sits next to your own slippers like the two belong next to each other. 

Rin shuffles behind you.

(How many times have you done this?)

You turn on the electric kettle and put away the groceries Rin has carried inside for you. You mentally plan out your meals for the week and concurrently catastrophize about what the fuck to do with the man in front of you. 

He leans against your kitchen counter. His outer layer has been shed, all he’s in now is a (somehow, still damp) white t-shirt and his warm-up joggers. Rainwater still clings to his bottom lashes, dew-like. You lean forward, cupping his face to brush the moisture away. His cheeks are clammy, still so chilled. 

(It’s all too tender.)

“You’re cold.” You frown. “Go sit down. I’ll finish making tea.”

“I am sitting down.”

“Leaning isn’t sitting.” 

“Close enough.”

You sigh. “I meant in the other room, preferably with a blanket.”

“I’ll wait.” 

You sigh, “Fine.”

It’s not worth arguing with Rin. 

Rin is so— so— frustratingly single-minded. Motivated in a single direction to a fault. You’ve long since learned that attempting to sway him, regardless of how sensible and sensical of an idea you have, is fruitless. If it doesn’t align with what he has already decided he is going to do, he simply won’t change. It’s something rather immutable about him.

His nature is as stubborn as his thoughts. 

(Loving him is so difficult; you wish that you didn’t.)

Rin grabs two mugs (your mugs) while you fetch the tea. It’s the same selection as it always is— your cup of ginger and honey, and his plain peppermint. 

You only settle once the two of you make your way to the couch, side-by-side, covered in the worn quilt that Rin likes best. It’s a tawny mix of grey and tan yarn. You picked it up from a thrift store years ago. You never would’ve thought that it would become such an integral part of a pathetic, mutual routine.

Rin is stiff beside you. One glance at him tells you that he’s chewing on his words. He doesn’t tend to— to do that. He doesn’t mince anything that flows from his brain to his lips. Your stomach rolls with a sense of unease. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask. 

(It never is, not really, when this routine is being completed.)

Rin looks at him. His gaze is piercing, crystalline. It lances you. “I’m leaving.”

You know this already; you aren’t supposed to.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“... For how long?” This you don’t know. 

“A while.” Rin's hands ball into fists on the tops of his thighs. “Half a year, at least.”

“I see.”

(You feel your world begin to cave in.) 

An eerie quiet settles over the room. The rain patters outside, streaking your windows in droplets, obscuring the greater world. It makes it feel like all that exists is you, Rin, and the lucid knowledge that your connection has nearly run its course. 

You swallow; it’s audible. “Where to?”

“Europe.”

“Europe’s big. Countries—?”

“Germany, Italy, and France,” replies Rin. “Maybe more.”

The back of your eyes sting. “I could visit?”

“I’ll be busy.”

“... Could you not make time?”

(Could you not make time for me?)

“I don’t know.”

“Hm.” You feel something cold and dreadful coat your insides. 

Your tea is cooling down, steam hardly rising from the mug now. You take a sip of it, and hold the mug in both hands, grasping onto the warmth that radiates off of it. The ceramic of the vessel still holds heat, enough to scald your palms. Yet, you don’t put it down. 

This big, unspoken thing lingers between you both. It writhes, swirls, like it always does when you enter this routine. There’s always been an impending end date to your connection, even if neither of you could quantify the time you had left together. Rin's career, his ambitions, his nature to not just excel, but crush and break in tandem, have always floated above your dynamic. 

This thing would immolate eventually.

(And you along with it.)

...

You end up in your bedroom, the gloomy day sliding into a thickly dark night. You’re not even sure if the moon is out. The room only glows with light from a few soft lamps. The spray of them catches the angles of Rin’s face well. Even with age, his face hasn't hardened all that much. He still has pudge in his cheeks that he can’t shake. It makes him look younger, more innocent, like there hasn’t been a thing in him, forever, threatening to devour him as it craves to brutalize others. 

Another part of your routine commences once you enter your soft, kindly-lit bedroom. Sex— of some sort. Today it feels bad. You’re not sure what’s coming other than grief. 

Stripping feels like a funeral march. The drizzle that continues to fall outside may as well be a dirge. 

Rin pulls his shirt over his head and off. It’s a quiet affair today, though typically it isn’t. On a more normal day, when you aren’t witnessing your romantically entangled decay in real-time, there’s banter. You might rib Rin, he may respond with his own barbed remark that you find a bit silly. It’s fun, despite Rin’s perpetually bruised demeanor.

Today, though, there’s no humor. No jesting. All that’s left is the unfathomable depth of— something behind Rin’s eyes and the ache in your chest that you’re afraid will kill you.

You kneel on your bed, left only in a sweater, goofy-looking socks, and panties. The stupid satiny kind that you think is kind of uncomfortable, but you know Rin enjoys. He leaves his boxers on, coming to rest on his own knees across from you.

Your eyes feel damp, you feel stupid, and can’t make yourself look at him.

“Don’t be a crybaby,” he tells you.

You scoff, the sound warbly and your voice watery. “Like you’re any better.” 

(Rin isn’t the crybaby notably. You think he gets close to it sometimes. Maybe that’s just your own wishful thinking.)

(You want Rin to crack; it would make your own fissures less shameful.)

Rin kisses you then like he can hear your thoughts, and kissing you hard on the mouth will extract them from your brain. It does, in a way. He’s warm and familiar. You love him so terribly. 

You cup his cheeks in your palms, still aching from your mug earlier. You don’t care. You couldn’t make yourself care as you lean into him, pitching your weight forward. For all the things Rin isn’t good at, he is good at catching you. He bears the weight of you easily, wrapping an arm around your waist and securing you with a hand on the nape of your neck.

He’s so solid. Bigger than he appears. Firm muscle over firm muscle, he’s so entirely unyielding beneath your hands. There are so many parts of him that contradict each other; it’s what drew you to him in the first place. Rin Itoshi has always been a spectacle for you to untangle and know, even if, at first, it was just to satiate your own curiosity about the foul-mannered, enigmatic man he appears to be. 

Unfortunately, now, you have untangled Rin. The essence of him has been unraveled in your hands, laying across your palms like sheets of satin fabric— the kind that catches the light and almost shimmers in sun rays and moonbeams alike. Rin is so much more fragile than he appears, tough at some angles, but so bruiseable at others. This knowledge is held by you so intimately, you cherish it, what else can you do? 

It’s damning. It’s made you love him.

You stifle a noise against his lips and fall into him more.

In a single motion, Rin has you on your back, laid beneath him while he straddles your hips. He doesn’t stop kissing you. If anything, the leverage has him leaning into you more deeply. It’s suffocating, the weight of his body and him over you. Like it’s bearing down into your soul.

Rin licks into your mouth and you let him.

It’s almost gross when he kisses you like this. Filthy— dirty. He practically plunders the inside of your mouth, running his tongue over the back of your teeth, pushing it against your own, spit dripping out of the corners of your mouth. If you felt like you could be properly romantic with Rin, you might even say it’s a claiming act.

But you can’t be romantic with Rin. Because this doesn’t matter. The physicality you share serves the function of physical release and gratification. You love him and it is useless that you do. These are immutable facts.

(Facts that you hate, despise, and loathe. Why can’t he love you—? Why can’t he— just understand?)

You growl against his lips and shove at his chest.

“Just—” You sigh, turning your head to the side. You can’t look in his eyes or you’ll immolate. “Fuck me already, okay?”

Rin wordlessly presses his forehead against your temple. His hands claw into your hips. He’ll leave bruises, but they’ll never last the six months that he’ll be gone for. You’ll be a distant memory to him by then, you’re certain.

Something awful and far too hot is boiling in your chest. 

“No,” says Rin

“No?”

“No.” He repeats, dragging his nose down to your jaw, then your throat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to yet.”

“Well, get a move on then.” You scoff. The watery quality of your voice has shifted to something sharper, angrier. 

“What’s with you?” He sighs out of his nose and it makes you flinch. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like this—” Rin tugs your jaw to face him and holds you there. You’re stuck looking into his eyes, azure and shiny like polished stones. Full of something you can’t name, lest you break your heart further.

(Your delusions are both damning you and saving you.)

Your eyes water; maybe you are a crybaby. “Fuck off.”

Rin kisses you hard again, flattening himself to you. He’s a cage like this, where you can only take what he gives you and—

(Rin gives you everything. Because that’s how he is with things he cares about.)

You feel like you're melting into the duvet as you desperately claw into Rin’s scalp, raking your hands through his hair. A pathetic noise bubbles up from your throat, pours from your mouth into Rin’s, and he takes it in kind. He always does. 

(He shouldn’t be reliable, but he is.)

It’s hard to think when he kisses you like this. Rin’s physicality is consuming, like he’s attempting to crush you and absorb you into him. It’s an intoxicating type of connection; it’s part of why you linger within your entanglement. In the moments you’re under him, intertwined with him like this, god, touching at all— you can’t do anything but think of Rin and his attention.

You kick him because he’s leaving— he’s leaving you and he isn’t letting you follow.

Rin grunts at the impact, even though you don’t kick him all that hard. You nip him at the same time— 

You’re so angry.

All the dread in you is angry, bitter like bile, and white hot. Preemptive grief, loss that you have to start swallowing before Rin isn’t even out of your arms.

“I hate you—” You tell him against his lips.”You’re awful. You’re the worst—”

Rin breaks away from you in an instant, slamming you back on the bed by the shoulder in a single, decisive motion. It makes your head spin.

“You don’t mean that.”

“And what if I did?” It’s not convincing, your voice is wobbling too much for it to be. You stare up at him, lips curling. 

“You’re being a brat.”

“Oh my god, says you—” You roll your eyes. “You’re the brat here. Just— fucking kiss me—”

“No.”

“Then fucking leave already—!”

Rin holds you steady by the jaw, bowing over your body. You can’t look anywhere other than him. It’s consuming, like you’re being engulfed by a rushing tide. 

“Stop. It.” His words are clipped, filled with his own anger. His grip is too tight; you fear he may crush you. 

“Choke.”

“You’re throwing a tantrum.”

“So what if I am?” you laugh, the sound too high and airy to be comfortable. “If it bothers you so much, just leave already. It’s not like you want to be here. Does passing time in my bed make it go faster for you, Rin? Getting your last taste of this before you fuck off and leave—?”

“That’s what this is about?”

“What else would it be about!”

Your voice breaks and you close your eyes. God, you don't want to cry, but it feels unavoidable now. All of Rin’s attention, potential vitriol, judgment, and rejection is pointed at you. You might as well fucking die.

Rin is quiet over top of you, like a dark, stormy cloud in its last moments before a thunder crack. Heat lightning crackles between the two of you, but nothing strikes the ground yet. 

“It’s better for you to stay here,” he says eventually. 

“Why do you think that?” You sound exasperated.

Rin’s quiet again, then speaks like he’s seated at a confessional, and not over your hips. 

“You shouldn’t be around me too much when I’m playing,” Rin confesses and squeezes your jaw. “It’s bad enough here. All I’ll be doing is playing soccer—”

“And that’s what you want, right?”

“Yes—” Rin admittance hits you in the chest and you have to let out a steadying breath, so you don’t shatter right there. “And you can’t be there for that.”

“Why?”

Rin lets go of your jaw and you open your eyes. 

His own jaw is tight, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth. His eyes are wet, almost like there could be tears threatening to spill into his lower lashes. Maybe you’re imagining it. 

“Trust me.” His tone is a bowstring. You’re both ready to snap. “Please.”

A whine echoes from your throat, out of your control. 

(You love him and you hate seeing someone you love hurt—)

You can’t help yourself. You tug him down by the shoulders and into you, so he can lay over your chest. He lets you, so easily, and tucks his face into the curve of your neck. He hides there, arms wrapping around your middle, so tightly that you’re sure that you’ll ache there the next day. 

It hurts, it hurts— not the pressure on your ribs, but having the atypically unsteady presence of Rin in your arms. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to cuddle, Rin is clingy, especially after sex, but it is odd to see him this visibly upset. It hurts because he’s hurting. It hurts because he’s choosing to leave and telling you not to follow, despite... everything. It hurts so deep in your chest, that you let yourself become so involved and in love with him.

You bury your face in his hair and shake.

...

Rin is bad at protecting people.

It’s a given, knowing his nature and the fact that he had an older brother closely looking out for him for most of his life, makes his ineptitude at protection make sense. 

He clearly wants to be. He has the strength and tenacity to bare his teeth and claw, but you don’t think Rin knows which way to direct his fear and grief— whether to inflict wrath on himself, the aggressor, or the person he actually means to protect. 

You can’t blame him. Some things, Rin only understands in theory and not in practice. Rin is so highly attuned to feelings but so absolutely atrocious at empathizing. You think— with you— he tried. He even succeeded at points, which makes your own heartbreak feel all that more infectious and virulent.

Your back is laid out over your duvet, your legs cradling Rin’s hips. He has three fingers in you, stretching you out with as much care and intention as he can muster. You can tell by the furrow in his brow, the peek of his tongue sticking out from his lips. Pleasure burns in your core, but the sensation is eclipsed by a well of fondness and grief, drowning you.

Rin slides onto his stomach and hikes your legs over his shoulders. He takes one of your hands and places it into his hair. You knot your fingers into the soft texture of it and tug. He likes when you do that, when you try to take from him. Rin shudders between your thighs, huffing a breath into the pudge of them. He nips.

On another night, you’d scold him and give him a playful amount of grief for it.

Tonight, you want him to bite you so hard that you bleed and scar.

(Would he? He’s so scared of hurting you, even if he doesn’t say it. He is hurting you. A sick part of you wants him to do material harm to you, so you’ll have something tangible to remember him by. An imprint of his teeth in your thigh would be too romantic, maybe. Too much to ask for.)

Rin kisses up toward your cunt, taking his time over the outside of it. He breathes in the scent of you, long and hard, a few times. A wishful part of you hopes that he is committing it to memory. 

“Hurry up,” you snap. 

“No.” Rin keeps fucking denying you. Haste would make this hurt less. You could speed things up to the inevitable end where Rin Itoshi has thrown this— you— away and you are left alone. Instead, he prolongs it. Instead he is carving a piece of you out, in the shape of himself, the wound never to fill as cicatrix and heal.

You drag him closer by the hair and grind against his face—

“Impatient—” he says against your cunt with a growl. His arms wrap around your hips, holding you down and in place, keeping you from squirming. 

It’s needed as he drags his tongue over your cunt, dipping the tip of it into your hole before landing on your clit. He laps at it, at you, humming and groaning as you tug at his hair. The motion you’re allowed lets you just barely grind against his face. It’s not enough contact. You want more, need more, but Rin is only giving you so much. 

“God,” you breathe out. “Fuck you.”

Rin practically growls, the vibration of the sound against your sex makes your back arch, a pretty, croaking sound dripping from your throat. He dives into you with more fervor, digging hand-shaped bruises into your hips.

The pleasure comes to you like licks of a flame, just as scorching as they are whimsical. Your toes curl as Rin’s sucks your clit. There’s finesse in his actions. There didn’t used to be, at the start of things, but now Rin knows your body so intimately—

(It feels crushing to know this will be the last time—)

It feels like you’ve been struck.

Never again— this is it—? The last time he’ll be in your bed, between your thighs, in your arms. You’ll never get to share this proximity with Rin Itoshi again. Not this version of him, anyway. You know what the journey that he’s about to embark on will do to him. The Rin that you know won’t exist for much longer, and— 

The version of himself that he’ll return as won’t be yours.

(And he won’t give a fuck about you, will he?)

It feels— like you’re going to die. Preemptive grief for a still-living person feels selfish. And yet, you can’t breathe suddenly, even with Rin, present, between your thighs, lavishing you with (fleeting— fleeting!) attention.

You rip your hand from Rin’s hair and cover your face. You can’t look at him. You can’t. Tears are dripping from the corners of your eyes, soaking into your hairline. Your breathing speeds up, painful and raw. Rin is still between your legs.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looming over you once more. You can feel his shadow, more than you can see it. 

He grabs your wrists and tries to drag them away from your face. When you don’t budge, he pries them down to your sides. Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that you could hide from him.

“Just—” You breathe, staring into the shadows thrown onto your bedroom wall. ��Keep going. Please. Ignore me.”

“The last thing in the world I can do is ignore you right now.” Rin squeezes you, less for comfort and more to remind you that he is there. “Don’t be unreasonable.”

“I just want to get this over with—” Your voice wobbles and you squeeze your eyes shut. A sob is trapped in your throat, breaking in an ugly sound. Your wrist jolts in Rin’s grip, desperate to try and hide the noise. 

You want to hide this from Rin.

If Rin wants to hide the ugly, poisonous part of him that comes out in his career, you want to hide the lovesick one that has infected you. The one that is shattering, in real-time, at the idea of Rin leaving your bed cold, forever. 

“I want to take my time,” Rin tells you. “Let me?”

“And I want you to just get it over with—” You repeat, a sob finally breaking from your lips, fully. Rin noses into your cheek. “Finish breaking my fucking heart already, Rin. Then you can hop on a plane and I can block your fucking number.”

There’s a stall. A beat, then two, followed by a third.

Rin is shaking on top of you.

“Would it be that easy for you?” He speaks with gritted teeth.

Would it?

(No, it would actually be so hard for you to cut Rin off so swiftly. Even if you blocked his number, you’re bound to see him in the news. You don’t even follow football all that closely, but he’s such a household name these days that you’re sure to encounter news of him and his accumulating accolades.)

(If not, you know his teammates. Rin begrudgingly introduced you after the lot of them crossed paths with you enough times. You have a few of their phone numbers. Rin’s mother has your contact information too, from the time that Rin spiked a high fever and you needed her specific oyaku recipe. She messages you photos of her garden now, and asks if Rin’s alright.)

(And none of that is even acknowledging the personal, emotional wreckage that cleaving Rin from your life so swiftly will leave behind.)

“No,” you say. 

Rin takes a steadying breath, his breath too warm against your cheek and down your jaw.

“You said,” his voice maybe wobbles, you may be imagining it, “that I’m breaking your heart?”

You laugh, something horrible and pained. “I thought that was obvious?”

He pauses. “Maybe it was.”

God, he’s so shit at this kind of thing.

“You’re awful, you know that?”

And you cry.

You’ve become so fragile in the past few weeks. Imagining this day, these exact moments of fleeting intimacy, like doing so could prepare you in any way for the pain that’s now tearing through you. The fear of losing him is being actualized, and you’re making it worse, pushing him away like this. But what would happen if you held him closer when it’s so clear that’s not what Rin wants?

You tear your wrists from Rin’s grip, taking a great amount of effort to flip and attempt to crawl across the bed. Crying like this makes you feel awful and ugly; you want nothing more than to hide. Rin is frozen, motionless, above you at first, letting you writhe until you get onto your tummy, squirming and clawing your way out from under him.

Then, he bears his weight down on you. He gathers your wrists up again and pins them to the bed on either side of your head. It’s a single moment of strength that immobilizes you flat all over again.

“Rin!” You mean to shout it, but instead, it’s a cracking sob that you have to muffle into the duvet.

He gathers your wrists in a single hand, and pets your hair, like you so often do for him. He rubs circles on your shoulders as you wail into the duvet. Bucking him off doesn’t work, he’s an unrelenting presence, sitting on your lower back, almost laid over you. It’s hard to breathe.

(A sick part of you likes this. Knowing that your blatant pain and struggle are being acknowledged by Rin, held and quelled by him, soothes the part of you that craves his attention so terribly. You love him so much, you feel guilty for these feelings just as much as you feel elated by the touch and care he is providing you.)

“It’s okay,” he tells you. He is not a being meant to comfort, the words sound wrong coming out of his mouth. “It’s okay.”

“You know it’s n-not!”

A fresh wave of tears pours from you. You’re soaking the mattress. 

“I’m sorry,” he doesn’t apologize either. “If I could give you what you want, I would.”

The sob that you scream into rumpled bed sheets is like thunder that splits the sky.

...

Rin fucks you like he loves you.

He kneels between your legs, holding your hands, thrusting into you at an unhurried, almost reverent pace. Slow and deep, busting up your insides. You’re stretched around his pretty cock beautifully; he told you so. 

Each cant of his hips knocks a teary breath out of you. You— you haven’t stopped crying. You’re not sure that you ever will.

Rin kisses you despite the tears and snot, licks your cheeks and mars your neck with mark after mark. His teeth dig into fragile flesh, biting and sucking like he could be eating you, rather than bedding you. It’s a shift in his demeanor— he’s not normally this desperate. Maybe your shattering has made him more lucid to your coming loss. 

His hands slip up the backs of your thighs, resting behind your knees. He bears his weight down on you, folding you in half easily. It pushes his cock deeper in you, maybe too deep, but you relish the pain anyway. The pressure of him forces a sound of you, aborted and frail. When you try to cover your mouth, muffle yourself, Rin is pulling your hand away to kiss you. 

Rin swallows down every sound, every breath, every bit of you that he can. You press back at him with as much desperation as you muster. He takes and takes, regardless of your tears and jagged edges. 

He curses under his breath, tilting his forehead against your own.

“C-Close?” You ask, another involuntary sound being punched out of your lungs. 

“No—” He shakes his head.

“Are you lying?”

“No—”

“I’m unconvinced,” you manage to grit out, a bubbling sob creeping up your throat just after. 

Rin growls, something in his chest, and thrusts harder, like he’s trying to carve out your insides. 

“I—” Rin’s words choke off, pressed against your lips, a frantic edge to it. “I don’t want to be done yet.”

You both freeze.

Rin’s as deep in you as he can be, his hips pressed to your pelvis. Every bit of his weight is bared into you, into your cunt and flesh. He’s breathing in deep, hurried breaths, sweat beads on his brow. You’re grasping his shoulders, digging your nails into him as his words hit you.

“You—” You laugh and cry in the same breath. “You don’t mean what I think you mean, do you?”

His grip on you tightens. His expression is cloudy, his focus solely on you (what a terrifying thing to be on the receiving end of—)

You continue speaking, feeling a creeping amount of panic, “You— you mean sex right? You want to k-keep going?”

“If I said yes to that, I’d be lying.” Rin thrusts into you, hard and fast. You arch your back against the duvet. 

“S-So you don’t want—”

“I want to keep fucking you,” Rin corrects, easily. He pushes you down into the mattress like he’s trying to crush you, pulverize you. “I don’t want to be done fucking you.”

“God,” you hit his shoulder with your fist and the force of an angry kitten. “You fucking suck, Rin.”

“I’m sorry—”

“ — Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

He kisses you again, this time softer. More kind, but still like he wants to eat you. 

You finish like that, with his lips laid over yours, with the tempest of loss having consumed you. Rin heavy over your body and heart, pleasure having snuck up behind him enough that tension has coiled in your gut. Your orgasm washes over you slowly, in waves, and you’re sucked down into the sensation with darkening vision and curling toes.

Rin kisses you through it, cursing as you tighten around him. He didn’t— he didn’t use a condom.

“Inside—” You beg him. “Inside— please, please—”

Rin listens to you, bowing over you and pushing your knees up to the sides of your skull. A choked sound leaves his lips and you swallow it down with your own keen. A gush of warmth follows, and you shiver with the heat and fullness of it.

Rin fucks you through his orgasm, muscles drawn tight as he fucks you deep and slow. He only stops when his cock is too soft to continue, and you’re both shivering from overstimulation. 

His cock drags out of you, wet and chilling in the still air. You whine at the loss, the panic and grief of this all hitting you again.

You don’t have much time to spiral, as Rin is gathering you up his arms, rolling away from the soaked sheets. He holds you tight, chest-to-chest. His hand is in your hair, and he grabs yours and places it on his own. Reflexively, you scratch his scalp and tug him closer.

You’re both quiet for a long time. The rain hasn’t stopped, dribbling on, but it doesn’t feel as grim now, more sedating. Your eyes go half-lidded.

“Can you clarify?” You ask Rin, peeking up at him. “What you meant before?”

(“I don’t want to be done—”)

“Hm.”

“God—!” You laugh, headbutting him. “You do suck.”

He squeezes you, so hard that a sound is forced from your lips. 

“So you want to keep fucking?”

“It’s more than that.”

“Fuck, Rin—”

“Shut up.”

“Still figuring it out?”

“Something like that.” He muffles the words into the top of your head.

You’re not sure where your grief sits then. Maybe it’s gone, and your release was just that— release. It makes you laugh again, into Rin’s chest. You squeeze him like doing so will keep him here, in this moment, for a little longer. 

Rin wordlessly squeezes you back even harder.

...

You and Rin don’t talk much once he goes to Europe.

You lose your mind right after he leaves, obviously. Screaming, crying, not throwing up, but pretty close to it. His house slippers get thrown in the back of a closet (rather than in the trash because, despite everything, you have hope—) and you rot for several weeks.

It takes a while for you to be close to normal.

Your routine with Rin had been a regular occurrence. Maybe once a week, sometimes twice. Not having it to count on unmoors you and makes you lonely in a way that feels unwelcome and raw. There’s a piece of you missing, just like you knew there would be.

You get a few texts from him. A photo or two of monuments he encounters with a few choice words—

[Rin]: I thought you would like this

You’re going to fucking kill him.

You’re never sure what to reply, so you tend to keep things brief. Your last encounter made you question your understanding of your relationship so profoundly that you don’t know how to proceed. There’s... certainly more than you expected, but upon Rin departing for Europe, so much had been left unsaid. How do you begin to broach that— is it even your place to?

You don’t bring it up. You don’t call him, you leave the wound he left alone, and it aches a little less each day. Still gaping and empty, but less raw maybe.

It’s late one evening when you receive a call from a random, international number.

You ignore it at first, thinking it’s spam, but they recall you several times, and you pick up on the fourth attempt.

“... Hello?” You ask into the receiver. 

“Oh, hi! Is this [name]?”

“It is— who is this?”

“Oh, it’s Isagi— I’m one of Rin’s teammates from Bluelock. I’m not sure if you remember me, but we’ve met a few times!”

You have— Rin has a serious chip on his shoulder about Isagi, which has been made to be an incredibly comical fact when realized Isagi is one of the most genuinely kind, polite people you’ve ever encountered. 

“Oh yeah, it's nice to— um, hear from you. What’s up?

“Ah, yeah! I apologize for the abrupt calls. I’ve got something to ask you that’s kind of time-sensitive— if you have a minute.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time.” You swallow. “Is... everything alright? Is... Rin okay?”

“Oh, yeah! He’s totally fine. Maybe a little hungover, but fine.”

You straighten up and withhold gasp. “Rin drank?”

Rin has refused alcohol the entire time you’ve known him. He swears it affects his performance. 

Isagi laughs on the other side of the line. “Oh man, you don’t even know. I’ve never seen the guy with any alcohol in his system before either, and I kind of get why. He really is a lightweight.

“I imagine... and this has to do with why you called?”

“Yes, actually—” Your phone chimes with a new message from Isagi. “Is this you in the photo?”

The photo is of another phone, specifically of its lock screen. The time on the photographed phone screen reads [01:11]. The lock screen is a photo of you.

You’re sleeping, clearly, face half-smushed into one of your pillows. Mascara smears under your eyes and hickeys are bruised up and down your throat. From the location of the marks and makeup, you know this is from the last night you saw Rin. Your chest feels tight. 

“What the fuck.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, oh my god.” You had no idea Rin took this photo— and it’s his fucking lock screen? That fucker only had the generic, preloaded graphics displayed on his phone the entire time you knew him. 

“I thought so— sorry, it’s kind of insane for Rin to have a photo like that—”

“It is, yeah.” You run a hand over your face, switching your phone to speaker and rubbing your cheeks. “How does this relate to you calling?”

“Well,” says Isagi, “Rin’s been playing like shit.”

“He has been.” Oh my god, has he. Like actual garbage. You’re not sure you should admit that you watch Rin’s games religiously, because at this point it’s a bit pathetic of you. But you do watch them live if at all possible, otherwise you purchased some stupid European streaming service to catch the recording as soon as possible. And because of this, you know he has been playing sloppily. You’ve been... blaming jetlag. Or something. Adjusting to the European diet or whatever.

(Not the vestiges of your relationship still, miraculously, affecting him in any way.)

“It hasn’t been great. We won our match yesterday, but barely. And we went out drinking which was good for morale! But maybe not great for Rin. He drank a bit too much and got a bit weepy.”

Your stomach drops. You can see where this is going.

“He kept talking about missing someone but didn’t say any name. And when we saw his lock screen... we kind of put two-and-two together.”

“Great deduction. Aren’t you known for that?”

Isagi laughs, sounding good-natured. It makes you smile. It’s nice to know Rin hangs out with good people who aren’t all dour and weird like him. 

“Something like that. Anyway, his birthday is in a few weeks, and me and a few of the other guys thought it would be a good gift for him to fly you out and surprise him.”

You stay silent, attempting to suffocate the spark of hope that traitorously stirs in you.

“Isagi.” You fold your hands and put them vertically to your lips. “Have you met Rin?”

That makes him laugh, “I have, I’m probably around him too much. But he’s been weird since we started the season here. If you visited, the team would cover everything. Our coach even offered to arrange rooms for you at the hotels we’ll be at. If you don’t want to room with Rin, anyway—”

“Rin and I aren’t together.”

“Damn.” Isagi clicks his tongue. “Does he know that?”

Maybe you’re an idiot. Maybe Rin’s an idiot. Maybe you’re both idiots. 

“I should ask him, maybe.”

“He’s never been the type to do things in halves, you know.”

“Trust me, I’m very aware of that.”

Isagi whistles and you shake your head. 

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away. If you could let me know in the next few days, that would be great. You’ve got my number now that I’ve called, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in touch.” You swallow. “Thanks for reaching out, Isagi. I appreciate it. And— thanks for keeping an eye on Rin too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Someone needs to while he’s here. Let me know what you’re thinking, feel free to call if you need anything too. Or want me to spy on Rin for you.”

“Will do,” You laugh, light-hearted for the first time in weeks. You exchange goodbyes and you drop your phone onto your lap.

...

Oh my fucking god.

You know several things immediately— you want to go. Desperately, actually, especially with the knowledge that stupid fucking Rin Itoshi has you as his fucking lock screen? You need answers, if nothing else. You won’t settle for a very sad, weepy fuck this time around. 

You also know that you should not surprise Rin. 

So, you act before you can convince yourself better of it. You scroll to your messages with Rin and craft.

[you]: hey, i hope you’re doing alright. your teammate (isagi) just called me and invited me out for your birthday to surprise you. but i know you well enough to know that if i surprise you like that you will either kill me, isagi, yourself, or all three of us.

[you]: i wanted to touch base before i gave isagi an answer

[you]: i’d love to see you

[you]: and we should talk too.

Rin almost immediately sees the message— the freak has read receipts on. A bubble indicating he’s typing appears, then disappears.

A call from him comes in. You nearly drop your phone as the screen lights up your face and vibrates.

With a steadying breath, you answer.

“Hello?”

“What did Isagi tell you?”

You snort. “That your play sucks and that you’re a weepy drunk.” 

“He sucks. Don’t talk to him again.”

“I have to, so he and the rest of your team can buy me tickets and a hotel room—”

“If— if you want to come, I’ll buy your ticket. And why would you need a hotel room?”

“So I have somewhere to sleep.”

“Is my bed not good enough for you?”

“Are you implying that I’d sleep with you?”

“...Yes.”

“Damn,” you fall back onto your couch with a laugh. There’s an odd coil of relief that’s unspooling in your chest. You could cry again. “Is that alright?” 

“I— I wouldn’t want—” Rin so rarely loses his words, it shocks you to hear when he does. “Yes. It’s fine. I can meet you at the airport too.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet?”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

There’s a poignant moment of silence that passes between you two. You can imagine Rin now— it’s the morning where he is. He probably is nursing both a bottle of water and that electrolyte drink he prefers— he likes the blue flavor the best. He’s probably in his warm-up clothes, preparing for his meticulous morning routine. 

“I’m excited,” Rin says, stilted but there. “To see you again.”

Something warm burns in you, frail but burgeoning.

“So am I.” You wipe your eyes and laugh. “Don’t break my heart again, Rin, I swear to God.”

“I won’t.”

He says it with enough conviction that you believe him. 

[f-imaginings]

i was gonna write a small comment on one of your posts then i realized how intense i had gotten into this text, i really hope this isnt too concerning to get such a lengthy message, so my genuine apologies for this😅🙏

okie first off— oh my word, i just might tear up over hearing you’re plotting a sequel haha🤧 despite that, i seriously can not for the life of me fully express just how tragically poetic KMKY is written. i CAN. NOT. stress that enough. truly.. like i literally tell myself & some fellas aaall the time how i so desperately NEED to get off my bum and write a looong meaningful essay over your work (and for canon gravity falls’ story lol). i don’t mean to get out of hand and ramble but really, the full on complexity of ford & bill’s dynamic (canon or au) plus with certain canon events being extended in your perspective is just..ughh woww!!😫 the way you articulate both ford & bill’s internal struggles with themselves and towards one another throughout the whole timeline of events and with how they really aren’t so different from each another. how they both strive for similar goals of ‘changing the world for the better. how they find strange solace in one another for being outcasts in their own societies. how (possibly) this is one of, if not the first time, bill had someone ACTUALLY fully accept and worship him back, regardless of his form. how they have endless conflicting thoughts and feelings constantly churning away in their brain, admitted or not. how bill is taking in every single new experience in a human vessel (an all-knowing immortal inter dimensional being is shown something NEW? by a mortal human being no less??? ohhh lord how i lose my mind over that, i could probably write an essay on that concept alone!🫡). and unfortunately, how both of their faults lead to ultimate consequences for anyone and everyone involved. goddamn, id be lying through my teeth if i said this fic hasn’t highly enlightened me wayy more for these troubled souls (canon or au). oh gosh i cant help but gush over this fic, ive reread it too many times to count. in all seriousness, your work has changed me very deeply 🫣💛

It is not at all concerning I'm delighted to get such a long thought out lovely ask about the fic!

I'm so glad it's brought you lots of joy and that you've had fun with how complex the characters get to be. I am sure you can tell haha but I love all the characters of Gravity Falls and want to do them justice, so the fact that people are vibing with how they're portrayed in my fic makes me very happy.

Ford and Bill are so similar and the story is littered with about a billion narrative foils to reinforce the themes of the fic. In the latest chapter I'm working on rn Ford's narrative foils in particular are a lot of fun to explore (Stanley obviously, and Dipper and Mabel too, but he's had a few narrative foils, like Antelias's worshipper Ingénue and Sandeep) but Bill gets some fun ones too (Zippy, Mabel, Pyronica) and as the main pairing their circumstances always revolve around the other.

I cannot tell you how excited I am about the sequel tbh. My notes app on my phone is full of plot points for it that will hopefully A) make y'all laugh a bunch (they made me laugh a lot so hopefully) B) tie up any loose threads from KMKY (though I don't plan on leaving a lot of them floating in the ether) and C) hopefully be a believable journey to a sort of redemption that won't feel forced for any of the characters. I want you all to believe that this is the logical progression for things if the circumstance in the sequel actually came to pass, I want it to be like that feeling of dawning realisation, accountability and wonder, that things really can change, so the readers can feel all the story beats that the characters feel when it happens. I want it to untangle the conflicted feelings they would all be left with by the end of KMKY. I know that through the course of KMKY they've all developed into their own versions of the characters in the show, but hopefully they're still recognisable to show fans. I'd want people to be able to read the fic and go 'yep that's them' even if they haven't read all 1 million words of KMKY haha. Anyway I can't ramble too much bc I don't want to spoil anything for y'all but I can promise it will be good.

Thank you for enjoying the fic so much and sticking it out with me. The encouragement you provide helps me write and put out my best work (because I want to impress everyone who enjoyed the fic and believed in me as a writer) so best believe that there will be some enthusiastic dedications next chapter in the authors notes.

[crescentfool]

i think something that is important to me to remember is that there are small ways i can do things to spark joy for myself and others without waiting for someone else to do it... (conjures up little sparklies from my hands) life is so whimsical!!!

[cold-neon-ocean]

2, 9 for LOK?

✨ love your fandom ask game ✨ 

2. A headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

Ooh this one is kinda tough~ I'm generally rather removed from the fandom at large so I actually don't really know of a lot of popular headcanons out there, let alone ones I initially didn't like and came to like~ I really only ever consumed content about Baatar and Kuvira as they're my favorites, and with them I'd either like a headcanon outright, or dislike it outright. I will say, at least in the limited fan content I've consumed, there is a common idea of Baatar having gone to university in Ba Sing Se for a period of time. I've seen at least 3 folks use that in their writings for him, and while it was never something I was "unsure" about, I didn't initially include the idea in my version of him. I don't know who penned that headcanon first but I was always hesitant about being seen as "copying" anyone lol. I do like the idea though, especially with my very codependent versions of Baatar and Kuvira, some time apart like that during their "good years" would be rather interesting, since they have been in each other's lives for most of their lives, Baatar choosing to go where Kuvira can't follow- even for a short period of time, I can see her holding against him for a little while. Especially with her preexisting abandonment issues.

9. A ship that isn't your OTP but you enjoy

Once again I'm pretty singularly invested in Baatar and Kuvira but there are definitely some canon and fan ships that I like! Canon wise I'll always have a soft spot for Bolin and Opal, just because they're cute and I like the potential dynamic it creates with Baatar specifically. A lot of it is pretty contingent on my rewrite versions, but what can I say, I'm a bit of a sucker for puppy love. Lyn and Kya was an early ship I'd see in the fandom that I always was like *Kermit nodding gif* ooh yeah I like that, and I've also seen Lyn and Bumi which I also really like, but I never really delved into fan works of either admittedly. I'll confess that lately the crack ship of Baatar and Zhu Li has been on my mind, but definitely not as a positive ship in any way, more like a mutually waged psychological warfare that they aren't even trying to hide from each other kind. I don't remember what sparked the idea- I'm not usually one for crack ships as I tend to be pretty single-ship through and through, but it's been a fun dynamic to think about, especially the kinds of conversations they'd have.

[ddragayn]

its been a good year for my art, man. ive started stepping out of my comfort zone on the regular, with really cool results.

template used

and here's some other of my favorite pieces from 2023 that didn't fit in!

it was a big year for me personally, too. i graduated college, made my start in my professional field, celebrated my one year anniversary with my lovely girlfriend back in may, and am now a bird parent again! (two lovely ringneck doves<3)

here's to the next my friends! let it be kind to us all.

[supernovaa-remnant]

baking christmas cookies rn from my favorite recipe.. mutuals please imagine that spiritually I am giving you some

(they’re not done yet but.. y’know.. when they are spiritually I will be sharing them)

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

friends! guidance please?

my daisy jones spiral and @actuallylukedanes being generally awesome has reminded me how much i miss writing songs, and how much i used to want to learn to play guitar--and my best friend suggested a guitar could be my birthday gift this year. (i'm not used to asking for 'frivolous' or dreamy gifts any more, so it's become a really nice idea.)

november is still a long way off, but there seem to be a lot of used guitars floating around that i'll be able to choose from when it's time. i don't think i need anything fancy or special since i'll be such a beginner, just something acoustic that's cheap and also pretty if possible (they come in colors! i love that).

but i've realized that when it comes to buying from someone local, a method that worked really well for me the last time i needed furniture...i have no idea if there's anything i should know or look for when it's a guitar. because i don't yet play guitar! is there some way for me to know i'm buying one that works?

this feels like a dumb or obvious question, but since the choosing/arranging will be up to me, i don't want to be the reason my family buys me a birthday gift that turns out to be, like, broken or something. i'm not always the most possessing of what could be considered common sense. so, for those who might know: is it really obvious when a guitar is broken, off, nonfuctional? do i need to worry?

[bacchuschucklefuck]

there's no need to apologize at all, this is very very cool to read! and specifically for those assumptions too; I worked on these designs with decently specific arcs for each of the bad kids in mind, and I wanted the designs to reflect that, so the fact that you picked up on a Lot of what I meant to put in there without reading any other texts I've written for the class swap means I'm doing a good job 💖 character design enthusiast to character design enthusiast communication

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[devnmon]

undoing heat

Summary: Astarion feeds from you the first time and finds himself aroused. What he doesn't know is if you feel the same.

warnings: porn with plot and A LOT of feelings, blood drinking during sex, vampire feeding, grinding, needy, touch starved astarion, piv sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, bj, oral (r!receiving), fingering

a/n: listen. i could’ve made this nice and short but you all know me. can never be normal about This Guy ever. so have fun chowing down on the absolute meal of a fic i’ve cooked up for you all. enjoy mwah (also big big kiss on the forehead to my lovely moots @clericblood n @tillysketch n @bodythieves for all their pre reading n helpful editing they did. i love u <3 )

word count: 12.6k

A vampire feeding from one’s neck is intimate.

It becomes a degree hotter when it’s Astarion doing so.

—

Cold.

For many years, all Astarion had felt was an absence. One that could never be filled.

But warmth… that was something he’d longed for.

Beams of light from the sun, an embrace, a fire crackling before him. All these aspects of life he imagined would never be within his grasp again. Replication of any such gratification was far fetched. A myth, something he would never truly see again.

Then, the tadpoles, the mind flayer ship, and you.

Since the abduction, he’d been in a state less desirable and more disoriented than ever. Weakened from lack of blood— or the deprivation of it. For the first time in two centuries, he had a chance to find something different. 

Astarion has since lost track of the last time he’s had the sun on his skin and been able to freely roam under its blessing light. Vampiric ways of undead life never granted him such a thing.

Once he met you, everything changed.

The many fights that stood ahead of him along with a merry band of companions compiled by fate itself meant that kobolds and boars would no longer suffice. Thus came the shame of wanting to taste that crimson liquid running hot right under your skin.

Catching him staring at your neck was the first hint of his vampirism, the red eyes and fangs moreso a quite literal dead giveaway. He thought himself clever trying to keep that part of himself hidden. But you knew better. 

The first time he fed on you was very special, not only for him, but you as well. To even have the trust in him after you caught the elf trying to steal a nip from your neck while you slept opened his eyes to what kind person you truly were.

Willing to share a part of your life force so he could become stronger, that did a number on him drastically. It warmed his heart the same way it was physically; a spark in the dark, a flickering that soon burned to a roar.

Astarion is lucky in more ways than one to have someone willing to give him blood for no reason other than you wanted to. To find him- a vampire- worthy of something so personal, built an undeserving ache in his chest. 

You could’ve mistaken him for a cougar that hadn’t eaten in days by the way he was zoning out. His eyes dropped to the rapid pulsing of your jugular, so lidded he was almost drooling at the sight. 

Thanks to you, Astarion’s sanguine hunger had been satisfied for the first time in two centuries. Not only that, but the warmth it granted him, down his throat and in the tips of his fingers was so gratifying it had almost made him cry. 

At first surge over his tongue, it traveled through his system faster than light. Eventually coating his teeth, dripping down the sides of his mouth, transiting through every vein to warm his frigid body. 

Tasting it – mortal blood for the first time brought a tear to his eye the second it spread selfishly across his tongue. Each time it soared over his taste buds filled him more than the last, all his strength devoted to reining in the hunger most of all.

He had no words for how consuming it became, only satiating to the selfish desire of getting lost in it. For a split second he was there, floating in an ever so perfect ecstasy, falling deeper and deeper into its embrace. 

Your blood fulfills what he’s tried to do for years with animals. To be his first… he can’t believe you’ve offered yourself to him in such a way.

He’s buzzing as your blood – as you course through him.

Succulent, warm and thick, he forces himself to back off before getting lost in your taste.

“Ah! That- that was amazing.” His words are breathless from the taste of you, almost slurring against the warm slide down his throat. 

You watch as he stands, the sound he makes swallowing a depraved one. He almost looks about ready to lean in for another drink, eyes widening for a moment before focusing on you again. 

“My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel… happy.” 

Happy he was, the blood going straight to his head… and other parts of him. 

One drop hadn’t made it past his lips, swiping it away on his finger. You stare up at him while he stands, weakened from the loss of blood and open wounds on your neck. Afraid the image of him savoring your blood would make your knees falter, you remain sat. 

Even with his pale complexion, he was beaming— glowing in the moonlight. An exceptionally good look on him.

“I look forward to seeing you fight, Astarion.” 

“With you by my side, it shouldn't take long at all.” he says with a wink, curtsying as he continues, “Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” 

As he turns toward the outskirts of camp, he pauses and turns back, sincerity filling his wine colored eyes when he speaks again.

“This is a gift you know, I won’t forget it.”

–

Immediately after draining a small animal, he’d noticed the lack of what mortal blood gave him; a rush so intoxicating. How long he’d survived in this world while missing out on such a thing, he would never know. 

Astarion gets overwhelmingly drunk off it all, a sensation he’s never gotten the privilege of exploring. To put it lightly, the man was overly sensitive and even the slightest touch across his chest sent his cock throbbing.

He’s not sure the last time he’s felt this type of arousal, not even sure of the last time he’s welcomed it. But he is aware of how much he wants to run his hands all over your body with his fangs in your neck. It makes him feel dirty, thinking of you in that way when all you’d done was give him a drink from your vein. 

He dotes on the image of you squirming under his touch a bit too long. Perhaps it was the blood talking, but accepting the image of you with your hands on his waist or anywhere else on his body makes a shiver run through him. For the first time it’s not out of frigidness, but one so invigorating he finds his eyes closed in sheer enjoyment. 

Astarion is warm all over, moreso from your blood he’s drank rather than the animals that helped satiate his hunger for the night. Thinking about the red liquid dripping from your neck when he pulled away– gods, the image was enough to make his vision hazy. He wasn’t aware of the raging hard on he’d gained from drinking something as luscious as your essence. It had never happened before when feeding on animals, but clearly this type was different. 

Was all mortal blood this potent? Would Astarion find the same hypnotisable taste in any of his other companions? Or was it you that was already affecting him in more ways than one that drinking your blood magnified? 

Either way, there was no containing it for the moment. What was he to do otherwise, walk into camp with a raging hard on? No, the embarrassment if someone– if you saw– might literally kill him. Better to sort it out in privacy while he still had some. 

Astarion freed his erection, dumbfounded at its warmth in his hand. Granted, he had not indulged in this sort of pleasure since… forever, it seems. The first full stroke down his length, he almost moaned too loudly, fingers gripping at the ruffles of his shirt, bottom lip caught between his pearlescent teeth. 

He was a sight, if you could’ve seen him then. Beads of sweat on his forehead, fangs glowing in the moonlight, cheeks pinked up just the slightest with how much he’s yearned for this sensation again. The elf’s high peaks quite fast, breath quickening as he attempted to stay quiet. 

Though he tries to picture anything else, the only image floating around behind his eyes is one of you. Your natural scent of sweetness, that pulsing jugular of yours, the kind hand you outreach towards all who need it. An inch further, just imagining your lips on his, is what brings him over the edge. 

 He’s not sure whether to feel relief or guilt when he spills over in his hand with a shudder. Once he steadies himself and cleans up, he’s quick to walk off as if nothing had occurred. How his mind and body ached upon his walk back into camp, observing you all tucked away in your separate corners of camp for the night. 

Astarion would just have to push down his guilt and hope to the gods it wouldn’t bother him in the days to come. 

–

Most nights afterwards were spent getting a control on the high your blood put him on. His first time though– had his body tingling in every possible way. Mortals truly underestimate the power that crimson liquid has over his kind. Astarion did not choose to spend two centuries draining animals. When the opportunity presented itself to him, truth be told he was a little nervous as to how he’d react. 

Your blood ran through his veins like lightning. Warming. Shockingly filling for once in his life. It’s up in his gums, behind his eyes, in the very essence of his being.

That night he realized how lucky he is for fate to have brought you to him. For you to trust him not to kill you upon his first taste of it. He’s elated, relieved, and knows for the first time, that he truly has someone who trusts him for the person he is. Not the vampire he happens to be.

He’s quite doting when he checks on you the next morning— a gesture that warms not only your heart, but your cheeks as well. You’ve never heard of his kind to be so concerned towards where their source of blood came from. A regular vampire would have taken what they wanted without care. 

But then again, he wasn’t so regular, was he?

“Good morning. How do you feel?”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to dart across your entire figure, looking for any sign of your current state. 

“I’m fine, I just feel a little woozy.”

“It’ll pass. I’m so glad last night didn’t end badly. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, though. Your blood was… so filling.”

“End badly? Wait… have you never fed on a human before?"

“Well, yes… We needn’t get into the gritty details as to why right now. I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first.”

The vampire almost presented bashful when admitting this to you, as if it were a secret he’d never spoken aloud. 

“Wow, I’m not sure whether to be surprised or impressed to still be standing.” 

"I fed on animals for the better part of two centuries. Rats, cats, boars, kobolds... anything and everything except mortals. Since drinking from you, I feel at my best for the first time in my life. Apologies again, I should have told you about what I am.”

“If you needed blood, all you had to do was ask.” 

“I- Really?” 

You nodded. 

“I’ll let you have my blood. But only if I come to you first. Alright?”

“Of course, you needn’t say any more. Thank you.”

“Like you said, blood makes you strong. We’re going to need that on the road ahead, wherever it takes us. Have you got my back?”

“Always, my dear. Lead on.” 

–

It took an enormous amount of strength for him to resist his bloodlust turning to a feeding frenzy, even when he was consuming animals. But the ecstasy that came with mortal blood, especially for the first time, was more overtaking than he thought.

Apparently it had awoken another feral part of him. He’d savor your taste, reminisce about it whilst alone at night. Not only did it go to his head, but it focused him like nothing else. So much so that he can’t think of anything except you. Any attempt to keep his eyes off your jugular resulted in something much too overwhelming entering his system. Thus, when he wasn’t out on the road with you, his nose was stuffed in a book to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. 

Many more nights passed with you suffering a woozy morning as if you’d drank one too many glasses of wine. Luckily, a certain druid had joined your party with just the spell to cure you of the disadvantages your bloodlessness came with. 

Astarion noted the way you immediately trailed over to Halsin’s tent in camp the mornings after he fed, almost letting jealousy creep over his shoulder. Once he found you were only doing so to keep a level head on the road, that pinch of guilt became harder to push away. Not just its surge as if he was taking advantage of you, but the notion of something more stirring inside him when he tasted your blood. 

Was it only that you deserved more than what he was asking of you? Or perhaps the appreciation that at least one person in his life cared about how he was doing after so long of being disregarded in that manner? 

When a particularly rough battle left you all drenched in blood and limping back to camp, Astarion was hesitant to reply enthusiastically about feeding on you that night. He’d done so for the better part of all the past nights since his first time. 

You only stared at him, reluctantly confused that he said no. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you just for your blood. You’ve been kind to give me anything thus far. I’m grateful for it but… you don’t deserve me taking something so personal as that without anything in return.” 

“So, you don’t want to feed from me anymore?” 

If it weren’t for him being so godsdamned caring and sweet towards you right now, he would’ve picked up the hint of disappointment in your voice. 

“No– gods, no. I wouldn’t be here today without your generosity,” Astarion places his hand on your shoulder, “I’ve just… grown fond of you, and it would be wrong for me to continue taking advantage of how kind you are for my personal benefit. I want you to know I mean that and, well, you deserve something more for what you do for me.” 

His hand leaves your shoulder, the warmth of your body already infecting his ability to think straight while his gaze averts to your neck. 

“Astarion… I wouldn’t be giving you my blood if you didn’t need it. It makes me glad to have you by my side through all of this. If I have to bug Halsin every morning to cure me with a spell, then that’s a sacrifice I’ll make for you. Besides…” You trail off, noticing his eyes have left your face and are now locked on your neck. “Astarion!” 

“Wh-What? I’m sorry… It's been such a long day. What were you saying?” His hand scratches the back of his head nervously. 

“I was saying that what I do for you isn’t because I pity you or some other reason you may have thought up. You’re not forcing me to do anything I don’t want. But, if you’re sure about this, I won’t stop you from hunting for animals tonight. If that’s what you really want.” 

“Well, I don’t want to drink from animals. Their fur gets stuck in my teeth and it tastes awful. Your blood is much more filling,” he states, ignoring the way his chest heats up, “But today has beaten all of us down a peg and I think your neck could use the break. Wouldn’t want a bruise to tarnish your skin. Gods forbid. I’d never forgive myself. What I’m saying is I don’t have to feed from you every night, even though you generously offer it to me.” 

“If you insist… you know where to find me if you change your mind.” You replied, sighing lightly. 

“Indeed I do, darling. See you in the morning.” He bids you farewell with a wave and stalks off into the forest, the usual swagger in his walk making it even harder for your eyes to turn away. The way his tongue curls around the words he speaks throws your mind into a frenzy, wondering what it would be like with his tongue curled around something of yours. 

Astarion had been lucky enough to drink from you the past couple weeks on the road, dissatisfied at how much more hungry he felt after two small creatures. 

Gods, how much more is it going to take to be full again?”

About three animals for him to have the same fullness when drinking from you, but nothing compared to the warmth of your body. That was something he knew could never be replicated, you radiating a forge’s level of heat below him. Though perhaps it was only because he’d been deprived of such for so long. 

Resting against the log of a tree, he took a moment to catch his breath before the blood he'd ingested traveled south. Even when he wasn’t drinking from your neck, his mind went to you nonstop. Innocent thoughts like ones by your side during battle turned to reminiscing about how your body reacted to him when his mouth was against your neck. 

He wasn’t aware of it at first, too caught up in the less than satisfying taste spreading across his tongue. As the nights continued with him feeding from you, Astarion became more aware of your heartbeat pounding significantly faster whenever he neared you in proximity, how your breath shuddered upon his fangs in your neck. Of course you were nervous, what else was he to expect? To welcome some red eyed, pale skinned creature jamming its fangs into your jugular nearly every night without dismay?

Astarion tried his best not to ponder how your blood tasted, rich and succulent when flowing across his tongue, on his lips, down his throat. Unfortunately for him, the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the more you’d wriggle your way into his brain. He had missed his nightly taste of it, how much more full he became after a few sips rather than having to kill a few helpless small animals to even get close to how you made him feel. 

Your scent, your blood, you. 

Once again growing hard under his trousers to the point of frustration, pulling himself out in the cool air. It’s so unsatisfying to feel warmth under his skin that wasn’t from you. Not in the one simple way that got him high faster than light. Especially not when your blood shot through him, lingering at best and he couldn’t take how less buzzed he felt without it. 

Was he an addict for your blood, or just obsessed with you?

It all combined in his frenzy of getting himself off, hoping and praying he wouldn’t moan too loudly when he came. 

Vision hazy and body growing warmer, he stroked himself at a slow pace, relishing in every moment of the electrifying thrill. Every pass down his length makes him grow harder and much more inclined to indulge in thoughts he’d been pushing away. Swallowing the thought of you on your knees for him, his cock in your mouth. He wonders just how warm you are, whether it’s your tongue along the veins of his shaft or your heat sucking him in. 

Gods– he shudders at the vision apparating in his mind. 

Astarion’s hips stutter relentlessly as he comes in his hand, cleaning the warm liquid off with a rag before heading back into camp for the night. His gaze caught your figure before he shut his eyes, relishing in the luck of your presence. 

He woke the next morning drenched in guilt at remembering what he’d done the night before. Taking your blood, selfish as it was, for his own benefit. Then to run off to the woods of all places and deal with the complicated feelings arising because of it?

How fucked was that, he thought. 

How dare he get aroused at the thought of you squirming under his touch with his lips pressed against your neck. Fangs under your skin, sucking out the very liquid that kept you alive. 

That thick, rich, liquid. Running along your veins and pumping through your heart, keeping you standing before him. Quite literally your life’s essence, and he was the only individual out of all the others in your life to have a taste for it. 

It was foreign to him, this pull towards you traveling over his entire body. A thing he wouldn’t have given a second thought to before this whole mess. Now with the control over his own actions, things were much different. He felt if he was ever going to do something right for once, it would be with you. 

Time passed whilst keeping up your little routine; he would only feed from you when you told him so, attempting to rein in his obsession with how you tasted. He was sure the fangs in your neck was a less than desirable experience, which had him shuffling off awkwardly afterwards most times. Truth be told, he didn’t want you to see how floaty and giggly your blood made him, better to keep up his stoic vampire appearance than let you see how drunk he got off your blood, to keep that mask of his up than let himself catch feelings. 

That same mask was becoming heavier with each moment he lingered too long on you inside his head. The only question was, would its slipping result in something catastrophic? Or life changing? 

–

On the road ahead with that certain vampire at your side proved plentiful, finding yourself walking near him more often than not. Astarion became the first person you turned to when in need of a second opinion, reassurance, or for when you just wanted to be in his presence until your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. You find comfort in his voice softening when you’re troubled, talking his pointed ears off about your past and if you’re truly capable of leading this group. 

“Your self doubts… They’re nothing to what you’ve gotten us through so far. You can do it, even if you think you can’t. And I’ll be here to make sure you get through.” 

He’d pushed your hair out of your eyes and made sure you were thoroughly hydrated after crying so much into his shoulder about it all. You thanked him with the promise to wash your tears out of his shirt the next morning, overly fatigued from all your sobbing. He shushed you while stroking your hair, only telling you to let yourself rest for the night. 

Upon waking the following morning, your head ached from the lack of hydration, finding yourself curled up into his chest, softly breathing as he slept. To avoid any awkward conversations, you managed to slip away before he woke. 

From the darker moments to the happier ones, Astarion was there for all of them. Finding the best bottles of wine for the celebrations you rarely had at camp, saving the best bottle for him as a gift. For his endless support of your endeavors, having your back in all the fights, and stealing you things without anyone noticing. 

All the softer times in passing, glancing towards him when he wasn’t looking, were when your eyes lingered. Beyond just his physical attributes, which were distracting enough, you felt a warmth in your chest getting up every day, knowing he’d be by your side. How you ached to see him smile or laugh as often as he was using those daggers he’s quite skilled with. His true beauty, the moments of happiness he found with you. Something about him looking as if he’d taken the place of the sun with the way he beamed. 

–

Choosing you to feed from rather than any of your other companions was special. It meant a great deal to you that it was your blood he was drinking- not Wyll’s or Gale’s- yours. 

His protective nature became much too obvious, as he’d place himself in front of you whenever someone stepped too close or became hostile towards you. Growling a threat towards said person always had your mind going someplace different, along with being thankful he stepped in to de-escalate the situation. 

Meanwhile everything Astarion does for you is out of his own growing affections. Ones he’s kept pushing further into himself. He wants to worship the ground you walk on for everything you’ve done for him. Not only do you make all the hard decisions and bond with others around you as easy as breathing, but to do so with your head held high, taking all the hits whether physical or mental. He adores you with all his being. 

From feeding him to supporting his endeavors with a smile, it’s the mental gymnastics he’s doing to keep himself sane that have been a pain in his ass. Getting off in the woods every night without fail has made the resentment of guilt a lump in the back of his throat. The filth that washes over him as he’s realized the desire to have you doesn’t just extend to your blood. Astarion wants to take in every inch of your body, its warmth with his fangs in your neck, how intimately his lips press to your skin while he sucks. To extend your blood’s warmth to him, understanding how your body responds when he puts his hands in the right place. On your waist, between your legs, down your torso, around the lengths of your hair. Holding you softly while he drinks, the little death being shared between you two. His dreams are filled with his imagining of how you’d sound squirming and whimpering below him, waking up from how vivid they become at times. 

Soon as he’s come with you on his mind again, it’s back to keeping his feelings undercover. 

That is until one night, observing Gale let you taste the camp stew he was in the process of whipping up one night. An aching ball forming in his stomach at the sight of you indulging the wizard. Your batting eyelashes when you looked up at him as your lips dragged over the spoon. Sickness filled him, unlike anything he’d felt before. It made the bile in his stomach begin to churn, slowly shoving its way up his throat with distaste. 

Your actions were innocent on the surface, but he knew Gale had been in relations with a goddess. 

Seriously, the wizard? Who couldn’t shut up for more than five minutes even if his life depended on it? He probably doesn’t know how to be with a mortal after so long. Too caught up on that astral plane nonsense. At least I don’t need to project and want to be a god to get off.

He couldn’t be the object of your affections, surely… 

Whatever his intentions were with you, innocent or not, they would have to stop before he got too confident. Before you slipped right through his dexterous fingers to that fool. Of all the things he’s failed to stop from happening, he had to make sure this didn’t happen the most. All Astarion knew was that he was desperate to be close to you more than ever. 

His voice grinds the vampire’s gears from across camp, like nails on a chalkboard. Why was his laugh so boisterous? Ever heard of subtlety, Gale? 

He doesn’t deserve your kindness, doesn't deserve your opinion on his fucking stew. 

But himself? The gentle vampire who has only ever been by your side, stepped in front of you when people got a bit too threatening? Much better than a human who couldn’t even go five minutes without talking about properties of the weave or something along those lines. Astarion always tuned those tangents out for his own sanity. He’d much rather laser focus on something like your sweet voice. 

Perhaps it was irrational to think he was the only one deserving of your time, but there was nothing else consuming his mind. To even think about someone as talkative as that wizard was trying to insert himself into your close circle when he’s been there from the beginning? He had to stifle the laugh in the back of his throat. 

Just give me a reason, wizard. 

Astarion huffed to himself and walked away from the sight before he did something unsavory he wouldn’t forgive himself for. 

Camp had settled down for the evening, everyone quietly going about their nightly activities. Peeking his head out of the red clothed tent, Astarion glanced over to see that Gale had retreated into his and wasn’t coming out until the next morning. 

Perfect timing for him to visit you for his nightly feed, but the nudging concern of the plethora of words he wanted to get out to you tonight wasn’t fit for the confines of your tent. 

The heat that flushed through his chest upon nearing your tent made him take a deep breath, to which he regretted the moment it was too loud for his liking. 

“Astarion? Is that you?” 

Your sweet, muffled voice sounded out from inside, and before he could even reach out to open the flap, you’d stepped out into the night to greet him. 

“Well, good evening to you too.” he answered, “Eager for my arrival? Or were you expecting someone else?” 

He grinned cheekily, making you smile in return. Who else would you be expecting this routinely?

“We’ve been traveling together for how long now? I always know to expect you over anyone else. If it wasn’t you, I’d be worried.” You move to the side to grant him entry to your tent, but he stands still. 

“Actually, would you mind taking a walk with me? I’ve got to get out of this camp for a while.” 

You agree, letting Astarion lead you down a path to quite a lovely view, one he’s frequented as a moment of peace before heading back to camp from his hunts. 

He stops short and from how closely you were walking behind him you bumped into his back, breathing in his scent of bergamot and brandy for a moment before backing away. That’ when he turns towards you, a soft chuckle leaving him. 

“I… have something to tell you, and I wanted to not be in camp when I said it.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Wrong? No, I–” he sighs, “There’s just something I need to get off my chest.” 

You looked up at him with those kind eyes, already feeling the heat in his stomach, churning his insides into goop. He took your silence as his cue. 

“Your blood, which you’ve been kind enough to grant me, helps me focus, yes. But you have an entirely more powerful effect on me. You’re selfless, kind and generous to those around you. Even to me, when I might not have deserved it.”

“Oh, Astarion…” 

He puts his hand up to stop you, so much more he has to say.

“You’re, well, everything to me.” 

The vampire’s voice breathily skirts over the word, as if it’s the first time he’s admitted it to himself. 

“You… you’re a vision. Everyone’s favorite, clearly. The one they all run to when there’s problems they can’t solve on their own. I… adore you for it. For being resilient even when the world may not have been so kind to you in return. You deserve every good thing that’s happened so far.” 

“No, I… I’m just doing what anyone else would have.” 

“Do you really think that? That me or— gods forbid, Lae’zel would’ve made the same choices?” 

“I… don’t know.” 

“For a fact, we wouldn’t. I don’t say things like this if they aren’t true, darling. I’m not a man of many words… unlike someone we both know. But that’s not the point. What is, is this. I’m fond of you in more ways than one, and I’m tired of keeping it bottled up. It’s become suffocating ever since this routine became regular for us. I’ve not been sure how to go about telling you all of it, but if I didn’t sooner or later, someone else would take the places I desire to be in. All I know is that whenever you’re not around, I worry, and I think about you constantly.” 

He looks relieved upon letting his words settle in the air, wringing his hands together nervously. You’re silent before you take a step closer to him, brushing a curl behind his ear and cupping his cheek. 

The stoic, unbothered vampire persona he’d been putting on had slowly worn away upon spending more time with you. It warmed his heart to see you not turn a blind eye to those in need of help, after he’d done so many a time. From reluctantly going along with whatever you said, to taking pride in being part of the ones who brought joy to less fortunate people, he found himself for the first time in two centuries, glad he had found such a soul. 

“You’re so…” you sigh, “I’ve been thinking about you too. So much.. I wish you had said something sooner. Then I wouldn’t have spent so many nights wondering if you felt the same. Worrying that I served no other purpose to you. But now…” you trail off, his rubies catching the light, as if they were filled with stars. The rest of your words escaped you, except, “Oh, just kiss me, you damn fool.” 

Astarion’s eyelashes fluttered, softening at your words, immediately feeling welcome to step closer. One of his cold hands cups your cheek as you’ve done to his, bringing you in close to touch your lips with his. One kiss sets him on fire, then another, and he’s pressing further against your mouth. It was almost as if he’d been waiting twice as long to do this with you, as you’ve been eager to do it with him. Your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into your chest; his natural coolness fills the air between you. 

His hands, anxious as they are, softly place themselves onto your waist for the first time. Your lips are warm against his, your everything is warm against him. Intimately and gentle over all.

You pull back from him breathlessly, gods are his lips ever so addicting. Some of his saliva is left on your bottom lip as you do, but it’s not unwelcome. Nothing about him is. 

Your foreheads rest against each other, both of you grinning in the moonlight. There’s a light pink tinge to the tips of his ears, Astarion feels weightless in the grasp of your arms. 

“Somehow you’ve managed your way into my heart. I wouldn’t want anyone else intertwined so deep. I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Astarion. You mean the world to me.” Your words coat his skin like honey, sticking to him as they echo in his mind. 

“You’re such a gift. One of the things in this world I treasure more than anything. Above than any gold or trinket I could ever steal.” His thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, your skin tingling under his touch. Astarion could feel the heat in your cheeks from his simple but sweet contact. 

“Gods, you’ve always been good with words. Not like anyone I’ve ever met before.” 

“None of your past lovers have had such great hair either, I know…” He turns to the side, showing off his profile and the silvery curls adorning his head. 

You giggle. Of course he would take a sincere moment to talk about how pretty he was. “Well yes, that, and none have been at my side as diligently as you without second thought.” 

“You don’t have to. You make it so easy to show up for you and be by your side… that I don’t even have to try.” 

“My sweet star,” you cupped his face now with your palm, “No one as loyal has ever been in my life before. I’m so grateful to have you.” 

Astarion’s pearlescent fangs glistened in the moonlight as he grinned, pulling you in for another kiss. You could feel the vibration of his groan on your mouth as he leaned in further, a firm grip on your waist now. He was almost in disbelief of the luck he’d come about, yet here he is, combining his lips with yours and getting to relish in the warmth of your mouth for the first time without that lump in the back of his throat. 

You pull back, breathlessly, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before you speak again.

“Wait, do you…” you swallow his taste down, “still want to feed from me tonight?” 

“How could I say no…” he replies, “Your blood is so very tasteful. Decadent.. Almost as good as my favorite wine.” 

“You don’t need to flatter me, you already own my heart.” You roll your eyes dramatically, but your cheeks reddening just proves how much it actually meant to you. 

“Even better in that case, now I can watch you blush without worrying if you feel the same.” 

Leading him with your hand in his, the two of you made your way back to camp, taking your sweet time giggling and kissing him while you walked. As you laid down in your tent, Astarion’s hands trailed up your torso, sensitive ears tuned in to your heart rate picking up its pace. The canvas of your neck was too pretty not to kiss, which he took liberty in doing now shamelessly. Each press of his lips against the flow of your blood under your skin only made his hunger grow, but he hadn’t wanted to bite you yet. No, he’d take his time, painting his way across softly. 

Upon his third kiss, you began to giggle again, such perfect music to his ears. Not knowing what came over him, his lips attached to your neck again, desperately. Kissing and sucking and nipping ever so lightly with his teeth, that you whined. 

“Astarion… you whispered, “You need to feed.” 

“I know, my love. But, everyone needs to know you’re mine.” He purred, the tone in his voice making it clear he was not above marking you up. 

You giggled again, “Okay, well when you’re done, it’s my turn.” 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time…” he flirted, eyes lidded as he looked down upon you. 

So you let him continue, marking your neck up with several bruises, before pulling back and gazing at his masterpiece. 

“Gods, I tried to be gentle… but I might have gotten carried away a bit. You know how I get around you.” 

“Oh, shut it and come here.” As if the two of you couldn’t get closer in proximity, Astarion leaned down to give you access to his neck. You decided on leaving the area with his scars alone, but wrapped your hands around his nape for even more contact. When his body reacted to your soft kisses, his thumbs pressed circles into your waist, breathing became heavier. His forehead dropped onto your shoulder as you continued, sucking and laving on his skin with your tongue, almost rasping with how his hunger surged. He could smell your hot blood just beneath the surface, singing in your veins. His mouth opened, scraping the tops of his fangs against your skin with a light scratch. 

“Do it…” you whispered, hearing the growl in his breathing. Without another word, Astarion sunk his fangs into the spot they frequented. What surged over his tongue was decadent, sweet, so thick and familiar that it danced across his tongue with every swallow. 

“That’s a good vampire…” One of your hands reached up to stroke the back of his hair, its soft curls sliding through your fingers with ease. A very prominent whine vibrated through the skin of your neck. 

Meanwhile the hands on your waist never stopped their soft rubbing up and down as he fed. Within his palms stirred a warmth, something he had been itching to do upon his first feed, it became so overwhelming. That sea of ecstasy he wanted to set adrift in seemed so much nearer now. With you, it would never cease. 

He released your neck with a gasp, blood dripping down his lips. Before he could clean himself up, your other hand reached up to swipe it away and let him lick it off your thumb. As he did so, you could’ve sworn his eyes glowed for a second. 

“Thank you, my love. For always feeding me so diligently.” Astarion drops a kiss on your cheek, moving himself to lay next to you.

“How else are you supposed to be big and strong for our battles, hm?” 

“Certainly not without your beloved blood, that’s what I know. Now, let’s get some rest. Today’s been long enough, no use in making it longer. Although I could stare at you forever…” 

“Oh, shush. Goodnight, Astarion.” 

“Goodnight, love.” 

He pulled you in close to his chest, so you’d fall asleep in his arms, listening to every heartbeat. 

Morning came with warm coffee and fresh bread that Gale had picked up before anyone woke. He offered you some along with a nice jam spread he’d made. Before he started along another spiel of talking his head off just to be near you, you moved your hair to the side, exposing your neck littered with red splotches from the night before. The wizard, rendered speechless, was even more surprised when Astarion made his way over and slinked his arm around your waist with a kiss to your temple. He then rushed off, almost dropping his own cup and getting to whatever business he’d be up to in camp. 

Across the many days that passed, from the goblin camp, eventually to Baldur’s Gate, your relationship with Astarion became so much more. He was devoted and kind, everything you expected him to be, not just spitting flirtations at you without care. The man knew which names you preferred to be called, ones he knew would have you bending to his every whim. 

You didn’t have enough gold to purchase a new knife for him? There he was, whispering into your ear, Darling, the store manager is slowly going over all the different potions with another customer. She won’t even notice its disappearance. 

So when you slipped the knife into your pack, he knew he’d gotten what he wanted. Perhaps not the best use of your time, but he took a little joy in corrupting your usual honest self. As a treat to lighten your conscience though, he’d had a necklace engraved from the same shop with his initials. It looked so delicate around your neck, the shine of its metal mirroring the glimmer in your eye. 

The soft mattresses of Elfsong Tavern were a blessing; not only did Astarion persuade the barkeep to give you the rooms for free, but the top floor was also all private. Everyone finally got their own space, save for the ones who decided to pair up together. 

He would feed from you almost nightly again, save for a few days here and there. Taking his time to kiss your neck, helping clean you up afterwards after he was done. Always using his lithe fingers to rub a healing salve into where he’d bitten. Though it became a guilty pleasure for him to see your eyes closed when he did so, ending up indulging in each other’s lips more often than not. Along the way, your desire for him simmered under your skin, desperate hands traveling across the expanses of his back, across the ridges of his scars ever so gently. 

One night you quite literally began grinding up against him, his thigh pressed under yours for a little tease. It was even before he started to feed, that you couldn’t resist him any longer. Your kissing quickly became more feverish, dotting your lips across his face and his neck with wild abandon. It was when you flipped Astarion over to straddle his lap that he caught the ravenous look in your eye. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He inquired, hands finding their place on your waist. 

“Astarion, has it occurred to you that we haven’t had sex?” You asked in reply, hastily moving your hair out of your face. 

“Well, of course it has. I just never wanted you to feel obligated to, if that wasn’t something you were ready for.” 

“I wasn’t… not at first. But I trust you much more now than I ever did, and… I don’t think I can hold back anymore. I want to do this with you.”

“You do?” 

“I dream every night about how it would be to feel you in that way. To cry your name in pleasure as I…” You trailed off, already recognizing the growing arousal for him stirring. 

“Oh… I see my love. This is something you’ve thought about for a while, isn’t it?” 

Astarion’s voice borders on genuine concern and his purr-like tone, almost as if he’d been thinking about it as well.

“I’ve thought about it and thought about it to the point where I can’t take the fantasies anymore. I have to have you…” Your voice dripped with desperation, as he noted your scent pricked with desire. 

His eyes go lidded, wrecking the image of that sweet vampire persona you’ve come to know and love in a second’s time. 

“I’d love nothing more. But if you get uncomfortable, we can stop whenever you’d like. Promise.” 

“I promise. I love you, Astarion.” 

“And I love you, too. My precious darling.” 

Your lips attached to his again, ever fervent than before. You so proudly moaned into his mouth, tasting his tongue swirling around yours. His breathing became heavier, growling into your mouth as his hands slid down to the soft padding of your ass and gripped firmly. The wet sounds of your lips moving together so perfectly sparked the filthiest of desires in his brain. 

Pulling apart from him with a gasp, you swallowed before thinking again. 

“Wait, there’s one more thing I have to tell you.” 

“What is it, pet?” 

“That night when you fed on me, it… did something to me. Something I didn’t understand at first, but now I do. It turned me on… and I liked it.” Astarion noted the scent of your lust as you spoke, and the way your heartbeat jumped. 

“Oh, you filthy devil. And I thought you were nervous about me feeding from you… When really it was turning you on… making you crave me, hm?” 

“I... yes.” 

Astarion bit his lip, dragging his eyes down your torso slowly before meeting your eye again. 

“And…?” 

“And… I would love nothing more than to honor you with my blood once more while we make love.” 

Astarion’s fangs make an appearance when he smiles oh so wide, eyes glowing with how much he is relishing in this moment. 

“You’re serious?” 

“Astarion, take whatever you want from me. take my love, my blood, my body. I trust you. Wholly.”

"You have no idea how much those words mean to me, thank you.” 

He pressed his lips to yours passionately, before pulling away to speak again. 

“May I confess something, this time, love?” 

“Of course.” 

“I felt the same when I fed from you.”

“You…” 

“Well darling, I can’t lie, I watch your blood slide along your veins whenever I’m close to you. It’s just part of my vampiric nature, but I can’t help it. Not when you’re this addicting,” 

“Tell me more…” your hands cupped his cheeks, playing with the stray curls that threatened to fall in front of his face. 

“From the first bite… it was such an aphrodisiac, and I couldn’t resist what power it had over me. It felt so wrong at the time, when we weren’t together. To think of you like that, I mean. The blood… took on a life of its own inside me. But now that we’re together… it seems right to tell you.” 

“That’s… gods. I don’t blame you at all. I would’ve done the same if I were in your place.” Immediately after your admittance, your cheeks pinked up right quick. 

“Oh, really?” 

“You’ve got me there, it seems.”

His hips grinded up onto you from below, noting each time his breath hitched between kisses. A hand scraped through his hair, sensation heightening what arousal was already beginning to simmer throughout his body. 

“You know… not once did I think you were too rough with your bites. You never even left a bruise… When you were close enough to breathe in my scent, you always made sure it never hurt. And I guess that… along with so many other things… is what made me fall for you. I enjoyed being close to you, I always will.” 

“I had to. I couldn’t take something so precious from you without care. I would’ve hated myself if that happened.” 

“I admire the strength you had… even for your first time drinking from a human. What an honor.” 

“The fact that you continue to bless me with your blood is just another testament to our bond. Thank you for trusting me.” One of his hands slinked its way down and interlocked with yours, thumb rubbing the top of your hand delicately. 

“I always will,” you replied, bringing his hand up to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“May I ask for just a little taste before we… dive head first into each other? A petite one, at that.” 

You smiled. As if he’d ever have to go hungry again with you. 

“Anything you want, my star.” 

“Perfect…”

His eyes closed in bliss at the sneaky idea he’d just thought up. “Turn around for me, I want to try something.” 

You sat with your legs sprawled out, with Astarion out of your view. 

 “Close your eyes, darling.” 

You did as you were told, awaiting his first move. Astarion’s contact began with one of his hands running up your back triggering a flurry of goosebumps to rise across your skin. You exhaled shakily, intrigued by what he had in mind, but also the aching need for him continued to grow. 

That same hand moved to the right side of your neck, resting his fingers over your pulse point to take in how fast it was pumping that rich blood through your system. 

But he wouldn’t bite you just yet. 

His second hand wrapped around your waist, doing the same motion of small circles after slipping his hand under your shirt. You felt his breath turn to a low snarl against your neck, running his left hand across your stomach to your midriff and down the cloth of your pants. 

That hand rubbed over your crotch as he finally sunk his fangs in, leaning into his chest. Sharp coldness of said bite turned to pleasurable and warm quicker than you could expect. 

Your whole body warmed under his touch, the same heat filling you as it did on the night of his first bite. Except there was no shame or reason to hide it this time. So you welcomed it, along with the filthy desires that followed. 

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, moaning low in his ear as he drank, with your head tilted to the side. His cold hand on the cloth of your mound only made matters worse, lifting your hips up for more friction. Gripped firmly under his hands, you could tell Astarion was smiling by the way his lips moved over where he had bitten. 

He lets up quickly after a few gulps, satisfied with his little drink. 

When your head falls back onto his shoulder, glancing upwards to the red lipped vampire, he catches the glimmer of your hazed eyes. 

“Oh, there’s the spark.” 

“Astarion…” you whined, unwilling to keep your desire for him under wraps. There was no point in doing so, he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Ah, you don’t have to say another word. I already know, darling.” 

His lips, stained with the crimson of your blood, press against yours again, moving his left hand to the waistband of your pants. 

The other that’s cradling your neck travels downwards, fingertips sliding over your shirt to grasp at your breast, nipple hardening under his light touch. All he has to do is rub over it once, before it made an appearance through the cloth. 

You aren’t wearing anything else under your shirt. Cheeky, he thought. 

“Your whole body’s been waiting for me to take you since that first day, hm?” A soft, massaging grip from his hand continued on the plush of your breast. 

“Mmnh… yes,” you whisper, “Please…” 

“Shh, sh sh sh. It’s alright. I’ve got you right where I want you.” 

You look to him, buzzing with eagerness in your eyes and plead again silently for him to touch you. The eager hand at your navel slips into your underwear, inching towards where you truly need him. To find you completely soaked wasn’t much of a surprise. 

Two of his fingers part your drenched folds apart, licking his lips at the knowledge of how much slick is gushing from you. With his fingertips, he ghosts over your aching clit once before traveling downwards again and pressing into your wet entrance ever so slowly. Not only do they slip inside almost immediately, but the sound that leaves you is incomprehensible compared to the ones you were making before. 

His digits are welcomed with no resistance, as if he couldn’t tell how alight your body became under his touch. Even through your clothes, the squish as they drag against your walls is enough to make him groan appreciatively. You gasp, the intrusion of such a different temperature compared to your own, noting the undeniable pleasure when he finally manages to find that sweet spot inside you.

Letting them rest against it for a moment before curling to his leisure stretches you out so nicely for him. Any upper body strength holding you up faded faster than light, falling against his broad chest with ease. 

You moan his name without a single thought, the apples of his cheeks pinking up from your glorious sounds that no one else was lucky enough to experience. It was music to his ears. How desperately he let the electricity form, tingling its way around on his skin. Slowly letting his own enjoyment build out of dragging his fingers in and out of you, he attuned to the hammering of your heart against his chest. 

Astarion took pride in every whine you let out upon the motion of his fingers, letting his thumb rub circles into your clit while he did so. 

“Gods, I want to undress you with my teeth… take my time with you… forever if I could.” he purred in your ear, earning him another breathy moan from you. 

“I can hardly resist you. Don’t make me–” 

“Beg? Oh, but that would be such a nice look on you…” 

“Astarion…” 

“Relax, darling.” 

You melt under his touch at the command, eliciting a proud smile from him from the knowledge that you’re wrapped around his finger. It’s not surprising how you already feel your arousal peaking from his simple touches, his heavy breath in your ear only urging you on further. Already eager to feel you clench around his fingers as you come undone. 

“You’re so close already, pet. Want to come on my fingers so bad, hm?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, “Please…” 

“Then come for me.” 

The next circle over your clit sends you soaring over the edge, breathing heavily and whining with a blinding release. Astarion’s lips peck and lick softly over your neck as you do so, relishing in the scent of pure ecstasy you emit. He’s already itching to be inside your walls, but desires to savor your taste on his tongue beforehand, as if he could be sustained from only that. 

He knows the way you write underneath his hands is only because of him, which only makes him grow harder tenfold. As his fingers pull out of your underwear, the sheen of your slick is such a sight to his eyes. Astarion is quick to bring your fingers to his mouth, letting your aroma fill his nose before indulging himself with you on his tongue. His eyes close upon your taste, almost as good as your blood, but nonetheless, one that takes hold of his mind so strongly, he can’t think of much else. 

“Your taste is like nothing else…” 

He crawls around you to your front, pushing you back onto the pillow behind him. 

“I must have more of you…” 

“Take whatever you want from me.” 

Astarion’s nifty hands pull both your pants and underwear down in one motion, not before noting how soaked your garments were and discarding them behind him. Between your legs was such a mess, one he undoubtedly caused; seeing you like this though, in the shallow wake of your high coursing through you, was where he found himself entranced. 

As if that wasn’t enough of an image to sear into his brain, you discarded your shirt off to the side, tired of the confining layers that kept him from seeing all of you. 

“I knew you were a vision, but this… not even the gods could find enough time to worship at your altar. You’re perfect.” His last compliment is admitted almost breathlessly, as if he’d walked in on a painter sculpting their muse. 

“Stop with the flattery and get up here.” 

Astarion compiled, meeting your lips with his while his hand grazed down your chest, fingertips like drops of cool water in between the sensitive skin of your cleavage. The stark difference in his body temperature made a chill run up your spine, turning on the most sensitive parts of you so easily.

Your lips intertwined moan after moan with his, while the touch of his hand traveled to your nipple. Another trails feather light across the expanse of your thigh. One flick of his thumb against it, and you were rutting up towards his body again. 

“Do you like that?” he murmured, too entranced with how you look below him. 

“Mhm… do it again.” 

He needs no further encouragement, diligently placing each way you like to be touched into a perfect little spot in his mind. Your mind is empty of anything else other than his hands on your body, exploring every inch. The echo of your voice in his ears does more than enough to spur him on. His subtle flick over your hardened bud is like a switch, setting your whole body off. 

You grip at the hair atop his head, pushing him down towards the apex of your legs. What you don’t expect is his lips to travel with the movement, pressing a path from your jawline down your neck, not before stopping to kiss and lick once or twice over each hardened peak and soft skin surrounding them. It then follows down your stomach to your navel before his tongue comes into play, laving over them the slightest bit through each kiss. 

When he comes face to face with your core, Astarion can’t control the way he begins to salivate at the sight. He’s breathing so heavily still, your scent of lust and sweat wafting around his head. He leans down, expecting to feel his tongue on you, but instead he kisses your pubic mound with appreciation, hooking his arm over your thigh. 

“Astarion…” 

He knows what you want, what you need from him, and he’s quick to indulge. He leans further down to your sensitive parts, and can’t help but run two fingers through you again to see how you shine. That ecstasy he took from licking you off his fingers would be nothing compared to diving in head first to your joyous arousal. When his eyelashes flutter and go hooded, it’s no surprise that he finally leans in, tongue first starting from your dripping entrance and all the way up to right over your sensitive button. His tongue laps at your opening, swirling and darting around to collect and devour every drop of your sweetness. 

The tip of his nose prods at your clit just enough to make you clench, each of the rogue’s movements calculated and determined to relish in how you spread across his tongue. When he swallows, a moan of content vibrates through you and your head falls back in gratification. It made his nose against your clit much more hypersensitive and your hips almost began stuttering upwards for more. 

Astarion’s multi talented tongue threatened to send you over the edge once more, but you nudged him a certain way and he let up. 

“You taste so good, I can’t get enough of you. My love…” His hand stroked your inner thigh softly, an action of comfort that only sent another jolt through you. 

“You’ve already made me come once and I haven’t even gotten the chance to touch you yet…” you whined, knowing all this pleasure taken should be given in return. Especially for a man such as himself. Your mouth watered thinking about it. 

“Oh, darling,” he laid a kiss on your heat, “You don’t have to do a thing for me.” 

“You’re very sweet, but if I don’t get to have you as you’ve had me, I will lose my mind. Now…” 

The assertiveness you commanded over him did nothing but command him to obey, unwrapping himself from your thighs before sitting up. Your eyes immediately traveled down to his crotch, where his pants did very little to obscure his tenting beneath the fabric. Without another thought, you push him back onto the bed to straddle him, grinding your bare cunt against his cock. The friction is incomprehensible, but you must stay focused; this was about him now. 

Your hands lock around the nape of his neck, only letting one of your wrists trail over his lips. His first instinct is to kiss it, but then he remembers why you both are here. Your blood continues to pump loudly in his ears, its aroma still prominent in his mind. 

“Go ahead, I know you want to…” you spoke in a low voice, goading him on to sink his fangs in. His head lowers, red eyes lidded and locked on yours. He abides, the quiet squelch into your wrist paired with the sting of his teeth’s sharpness a minor pain at this point for you. 

The slow pulls he takes immediately pink his cheeks and tips of his ears up so much so, you thought he might’ve been feverish if he wasn’t of vampiric nature. Out of curiosity, you ran your fingertip over the pinkness in his ear to find it warm– hot, even. Astarion released your wrist with a whine, gasping at your sudden contact. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” 

“N-No… do it again, please…” He whispers his last word, the alluring persona washing away with every small rub, whining even louder this time. Within your teasing, Astarion takes liberty to heal your wrist and kiss it once the puncture marks faded away. 

His head falls back in bliss, feeling the warmth of his blood travel down his throat with your hand. It lightly trails down his jaw, your thumb lightly ghosting over his adams apple as he swallows down the rest. Astarion whimpers something pathetic, the weight of you over his cock making it throb unnecessarily harder than it already was. 

“Did my blood just… do that?” You glanced downwards at the erection you straddled. 

“I think so,” he replied breathlessly, passionately connecting your lips with his. 

“Let’s get these off you. That does not look comfortable and… I want to make you feel so good…” 

“That sounds delectable, pet.” Astarion replies, letting your greedy little hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt to discard it. 

You paused a moment before going any further, taking in the picture of him below you. What a vast expanse of his chest that has your eyes glowing, as his rubies look upward to you. You kiss him once more, peppering kisses down his sharp jawline to the sensitive skin between his pecs and flitting your tongue across his nipples in the same nature that he’d done to you. 

“Hah-” you hear him gasp, knowing you’re doing something right. He intently listens to your heart rate and how fast your blood is pumping through your body while you travel down his own. Kissing your way to his navel and licking softly, pulling the cutest little moans from him. The strong ridges of his torso are next for your lips, letting your tongue drag across it from time to time. Your hands tug his pants down over the length of his prominent bulge. 

You discard them ever so quickly, his cock springing up eagerly, as pretty as the rest of him. His pink tip throbs in the cooler air, finally freed from his tight clothing. 

“Gods damn…” You muttered in disbelief. Of course such a pretty man would have a pretty cock to go along with the rest of him. 

“Look at what you do to me…” Astarion whines, biting his lip and tossing his head back. He doesn’t have to say anything else before you’re lowering your mouth and kissing his tip, lightly dragging your tongue over his slit, desperate to please. His cock twitches, standing even more upright against his toned stomach. 

“You’re perfect… in every way.” You comment, looking up at him before wrapping a warm hand around his base. It’s as if you could feel all of the blood he’s consumed pumping through him while in your hand. You inch up his shaft, letting your palm cover his tip completely to hear him whimper again. 

“Ah–” 

What makes him grow even harder is the gaze in your eyes as you continue to fist him, the way your lips are parted and your tongue threatening to escape again. Astarion doesn’t expect your other hand to massage his balls, only earning you an even higher pitched moan from him. 

Before he knows, you’re bending down again, flitting your tongue over his slit to taste the salty precome. Your soft lips roam down his length, leaving the sweetest of kisses as you continue. His chest heaves, whole body firing up in response. When your hands are replaced by the warmth of your mouth and your tongue down the side of his cock, he almost cums right then and there. 

But he indulges you, letting your movements continue and swallows down what noisy sounds he would’ve made. The moment he does, you lift off him with a knowing look. 

“Let me hear you, please,” you ask, your vampire nodding before raking one of his hands through your hair. Your warm mouth continues, before his hips begin stuttering and his curses switch to unintelligible whining again. After all the teasing and pushing all the right buttons on his body, you’re seemingly about to send him barreling towards his release with the consistency of your mouth on him. Licking the side of his cock as you move up and down, lips red and swollen from the friction. You look a perfect mess with your saliva covering him and doing so willingly on him like this. 

“Gods, I’m going to–” 

“Come…” you plead, “for me…” 

That’s all Astarion needs to hear, hips stuttering as he bucks into your mouth, spilling down your throat with a groan that tapers off into a content whimper of your name. You swallow every drop of his spend and ease him down from the peak of his high. Chest heaving, you release him with a pop, cock twitching in the open air, dripping and still half hard. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead, glistening in the light of the room. 

“Thank you, my darling.” Astarion leans down, cupping your cheek with his hand and kissing you, tasting himself on your lips. 

“You look so pretty when you come…” you reply, wiping the extra saliva off your mouth. 

“Not as pretty as I’m going to look when I fuck you.” His voice lowers to a purr, immediately bringing you closer to him with his strength. “You'll take every inch, won’t you?”

“Mhm,” You whimper in reply as Astarion crawls over you, dragging his fingers ever so lightly over your torso. 

“Now tell me, did you touch yourself while thinking about me?” Your face is too quick to give you away to deny it, feeling your cheeks heat up. That’s enough of an answer for him. 

“You did, didn’t you? Don’t be shy. I want to hear that dirty little mouth admit it.” 

“Yes, I did. I… fucked myself with my fingers wishing it was you. I got off on the high your bite gave me. Gods…” You cover your face in embarrassment, but there was no admitting that to him with a straight face. 

“It’s alright, little love. No need to be embarrassed. I did too. My mind said no, but my body, filled with your blood, might I add, said yes. I dreamed of you laid out like this for me, so many damn times before I ever thought about it being real.” His hand pulls yours away from covering how much your cheeks are pinked up at the admittance of such a thing. 

“My tongue still remembers the way your blood tastes, you know. I can’t wait to fuck into you and taste you again.” 

“Please… please, please…” you whimper, finally at the crux of your fantasy where it becomes reality. All the nights you spent forcing yourself to be quiet, coming with a whisper of his name, were your real life now. 

“Please, what?” 

With the way he hovers over you now, his cock rests just over your navel, almost perfectly lining up with how it’ll fit inside you. 

“Bite me– drink my blood as you put your cock inside… I want to feel it grow.” You mewl, and when he growls with that all knowing smile, you know he’ll give you what you want. 

Your lips smash together this time, ever so hungrily, almost bordering on needy. Astarion pulls back for a moment, before letting his eyes drop to the pulsing point on your neck to lean down and meet it with a kiss. 

There’s nothing like the cold sharp sting of his fangs that soon melts into the purest form of euphoria as he slowly drinks, tongue greedily sweeping over the marks he’s made. The way he murmurs little strings of praise upon his approval against your throat, with blood covered lips. 

His tip prods at your entrance, pushing in slowly but with no resistance to the hilt before he’s consumed too much. Between the pulls he takes from your neck, he’s groaning with each swallow. Your blood sings inside him, truly feeling the aphrodisiac that is your essence of life. It consumes him, taking over the vast inches of his pale skin. Astarion’s grip on your body becomes the thing he clings to, letting his hands find your waist and back of your neck again. He pulls you closer to him, attempting to override the high he’s been put on, but he falls short just the slightest bit. 

From this point you were overjoyed to finally feel the drag of his cock against your walls, going from filled to the hilt to somehow even deeper, your blood filling him as he has filled you. It was poetic in a sense, erotic, and if you weren’t so lost in the high his bite was giving you, you could have cried at this ever so perfect moment. 

Finally he releases your neck with a gasp, apples of his cheeks pinked up, and eyes shimmering. Astarion is grinning ear to ear as he looks down on you, triggering a blissed out smile from your own lips. 

“How do I look?” you ask, slurring your words a little. 

“Beautiful. Like you always do.” When he asks, “Did you feel it?” in a low voice, you know he’s growing so impatient. 

“Mhm… fuck me… fuck me so good, the way you know how, Astarion.” 

Your moan again as his lips collide with yours, the first few thrusts of his cock slow and methodical. He angles his hips in such a way to hit that spongy sweet spot inside of you without trying, relishing in the friction of your walls. 

“So ready for me, and still so tight. Fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you? Hah–” 

His voice drips with lavishness, a devoted tone and desperate to please. 

“Astarion… faster, please…” 

He says no more, only growling in agreement as his hips pick up the pace. He smiles blissfully while his thrusts find a steady pace inside you. It’s even harder to not lose himself like he has in your neck several times before, soaked in happiness as his pace evens out. What a mistake he makes as he looks down at your neck, becoming so much more difficult not to lose all control and rut into you like a cat in heat. 

You moan out his name, every thrust a commitment to giving you his all each and every day he’s with you. 

“Again,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Astarion.” his mouth is on you again, eager for another taste, snagging your lip with his fang. 

“Again.” 

He commands in a tone that leaves no room for second thought. The friction of his cock against your walls, swallowing him in repeatedly, as if it were what your body was made for, brings you barreling towards your release. It’s when he reaches down where the two of you meet in the most intimate way, that you lose all train of thought. Your mind goes fuzzy as his fingers swirl at your clit, your combined fluids doing enough to lubricate the way he circles over your clit. 

“I’m going to…” 

“Come for me… Please darling, gods, please…” 

The ruthless pace he keeps up in order to come with you will definitely leave you sore in the morning, along with bloodlessness and at much too many disadvantages. But in this moment, you just don’t care– sharing this pure hot bliss and pleasure with Astarion has tied your souls together for eternity. 

So when his hips stutter again, holding himself inside you as he paints your walls with his warm cum, is when you know he’s yours forever. You shatter around him, clenching uncontrollably that he almost comes a second time. Both your movements slow to a halt, catching your breath as your heartbeats continue to pound in your ears. 

“I love you, thank you…” Your voice is hoarse, but appreciative, as you speak

“I love you, infinitely more…” He returns your sweet words. 

When Astarion lays down next to you, he can’t quite help the throb of his heart in an endless river of warmth. You’ve put him there, not just physically, but spiritually and mentally. Within his heart he knows he can love and trust you like this till the end of his days. 

[lych33dragoncookie]

Only the masterpieces that survive the fiercest flames earn their place in history.

(Analysis post)

Alright, they absolutely cooked this update. Like, undeniably so. I was admittedly not that huge of a fan of the last 2 beast yeast chapters we got; they had really good ideas, and Mystic Flour is a wonderful character, but... Dark Cacao hasn't really been done enough with for it to feel like it had the amount of weight it could have, and it really doesn't feel like much about him actually changed at all. Combine that with a complete lack of interesting dynamics and you have a lot of very good and genuinely pretty well thought out story concepts with extensive cultural research, executed in a way that feels more like a traditional old-school story that weakens the attachment the audience feels to the components of said story.

Here, though? I have no complaints so far. It was absolutely wild in fact, to the point where I don't think it's gonna happen again (nor am I entirely sure it should ever happen again). This was back to back, non-stop, smack to the face one after the other. The moment the first point of conflict came up, it was just shit happening left and right; even in the mandatory moment of rest where we chill out for a bit, it's revealed that hey, these sandstorms? Yeah the sand is actually ashes. It's the remains of all the people that live here. Whether they died off on their own or were killed by someone else.

And if that wasn't enough, very shortly after;

... It's fucking crack.

So, people die and kill each other here very frequently, and not only are their remains visibly on display, their ashes also become sandstorms that make it near impossible to navigate the land; on top of being something that people snort like cocaine to become more energetic and aggressive.

We started fucking wild, dude. This whole thing is pulling no punches.

Though, I do wanna note; I really, really enjoyed the interactions between Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese. It shows not only how forgiving she is, but how these two have known each other for an incredibly long time, and know each other well. They're incredibly comfortable around each other, despite it all, and despite how brazen and Very Much Not Strategic the queen here can be. I really, really enjoyed them.

Always fun to see a recovering villain do things for good, but in their own unique way that's still not exactly heroic but definitely effective and, at times, very gratifying.

Though I enjoyed all this, there's one thing I wanna talk about above all else.

The star of the show. Note that every single part was enjoyable, of course, and he wouldn't be half as interesting without Golden Cheese Cookie to serve as a parallel, but they've cooked up something special here.

So far, Burning Spice's extent of onscreen appearance is very, very short, but... I don't think I need to tell you that he's already made an impact and a half.

Christ, that's violent. With the sound effects and everything too, god damn. But, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a pretty superficial source of judgement for this character. It's very very telling of what kind of person he is now, what he's all about, what he's willing to do, what he likes doing, but...

More than anyone else in recent memory, the devil is in the details. So let's look at those details.

Nothing too much so far, other than how much he absolutely loves destruction, but there's already a trend; namely on "Nothing lasts forever. It's as simple as that", "In the end, everything becomes dust.", and "You, too, shall see that destruction is the only way.". There seems to be an infatuation with the natural process of everything fading away, turning to dust and dying out. An entirely honest one, believing that there is just about nothing else to life. These will be important to keep in mind.

Here, we see a bit of his current relationship with his own immortality. He doesn't seem to mind the idea of losing it, finding something that may eventually take him down, but he still takes great pride in it. These lines, in text, seem somewhat miserable (and trust me, they definitely are), but the voicework in just about every language conveys that they are said in a more neutral, even potentially proudly manner. Again, not much on their own, but...

Here's where we get into the fun part.

This. This is the crux of their character. At the start, him and Golden Cheese cookie were more or less the same. Benevolent royalty, close and personal with their subjects. Beloved, and loving.

And then, they lost it all.

One way or another, their kingdoms were lost, reduced to almost nothing. They were overcome by grief, desperate, unable to cope with their loss. One tried to latch on as hard as possible. Preserve what she could, blindly, replacing the harsh truth of reality with an idealized, constructed world, where no one would ever have to know pain ever again. She shut herself off, and retreated in the safety and peace of a false reality. She would rather have lied to both herself and all her subjects than face reality. And eventually, she had to learn to move on. Let herself and her kingdom heal more naturally, facing reality. The other, meanwhile, was desperate to let go. He detached himself, trying to move past the pain of loss. But, of course, he couldn't force it to happen. No one can. And so with the grief of losing that which he held dear, continuing to be faced with the reality that nothing is forever, over and over, while he endured, the world slowly turning to ash around them again and again... It's no wonder something in there eventually cracked.

What will it take to destroy me. Nothing is forever, and yet, I am.

Nothing is forever. And yet, I am.

With time, misery turned to mania, and in an attempt to overcome their grief, they embraced it, in the worst way possible. A coping mechanism gone horrendously wrong. That destruction, that loss, the inevitability of death... It's not painful, no. It doesn't have to be. It can be thrilling. Exhilarating. A new reason to live. If all you care about turns to dust anyways, if that's really the only logical destination... Why not have some fun with it? Why not embody that inevitable, unstoppable force? Why not become what you fear, so you no longer have to be afraid anymore?

... You know, at least that's what I think is going on here. The next chapter could contradict this reading, but... From what all we have right now, it seems like Golden Cheese and Burning Spice are two completely different paths for the exact same type of pain. They are, in a way, the same, but diverge in almost complete opposite ways where it counts.

Spice is genuinely equal parts absolutely terrifying and absolutely miserable; a balance that is incredibly hard to strike in writing, but always absolutely fascinating and wonderful to observe when it happens. I have to say, the more I found out about them, the more I couldn't keep my eyes off everything they have going on.

I'm loving every little bit of this update. Mad props to the devs for cooking something up here that I am genuinely incredibly invested in, almost to the same degree as White Lily and Dark Enchantress. Banger update. Absolute S tier material.

TL;DR: Burning Spice is terrifying, miserable, and ridiculously cool. Everything about this update was an absolute merciless flurry of consecutive gut-punches. And I loved every second of it.

... Now we sit and wait for Shadow Milk's release next year.

[moonstruckme]

hey! I really really really like your writing very much!

can you do one where the reader and spencer reid are both nerds but different kinds of nerds. so the reader's more of a literature/ language nerd and spencer's basically an expert in LITERALLY everything. so she has a major crush on him but always hesitates to make a move on him cuz she thinks that she doesn't stand a chance because she struggles with basic math and physics chemistry make her head hurt

and so when spencer asks her out she's all baffled like you don't think I'm dumb?!😭😭

Hi, thanks honey!

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s one of those rare days where you can actually afford a lunch break, and you’ve decided to take it outside with your book. Every day lately feels like it could be the last nice one you get before the cold weather comes in, and you’re enjoying the crisp breeze and warm sunshine on your face as you get settled on the bench outside the cafe where you work. 

The book you’ve been reading for the past week is good but not great; you’re sort of pushing yourself to finish just so you can say it’s over with and tell the friend who lent it that you gave it your best. Still, you’re very nearly lost in it by the time a pair of black converse comes to a stop in front of you. 

You follow them upward. “Spencer!” you say, probably with a touch too much alacrity. Too quickly, too. You might’ve at least pretended to have to think about the name of the sweet-faced doctor looking down at you. But it’s not your fault; you’ve gotten used to calling it out from the counter when he comes here to pick up his lunch at least three days out of the week. 

“Hi,” he says, teetering on the edge of bashful. “I’m surprised to see you out here, you’re almost always working when I come by.” 

It’s embarrassingly gratifying that he knows that. You’d never hold it against him if he didn’t, but you’ve come to enjoy the little bits of conversation you grab with him when he comes by, and it’s nice to know that he’s noticed you too. 

“It’s a slow day,” you reply by way of explanation. “I figured I’d grab a break while I still could.” 

Spencer smiles like he totally gets that. You imagine he does. “Good idea. Can I sit?”

“Of course!” Again, way too eager. You’ve got to work on controlling your tone around him. You move your discarded jacket into your lap. 

“Thanks,” he says, sitting in the space you’ve made for him. His legs are so long he looks like he’s squatting on the bench, knees high enough for him to set his elbows on. Which he does, tilting his head to see you. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, um, it’s nothing. I mean, I wouldn’t really recommend it,” you laugh. Christ, you don’t want him to know what you’re reading. Spencer probably reads astrophysics textbooks for fun. “It’s not very good.” 

Spencer puts his hand over yours, far from forceful as he tips the page toward him until he can see the cover. Your brain is short-circuiting so badly it’s a wonder you don’t drop the paperback onto the pavement. 

“I haven’t heard of it,” he says, which surprises you. Spencer seems so knowledgeable it’s difficult to believe there’s anything in existence that’s not stored somewhere in his hard drive. “Why are you reading it if you don’t think it’s good?” 

He doesn’t ask it in any unkind or judgemental way, but something inside you tenses nonetheless. You know perhaps too much about Spencer Reid. It’s not like you’d gone out of your way to figure him out, but the facts had presented themselves to you almost serendipitously and you’d put the pieces together. You know that he’s in the FBI, not only because of the laminated identifier he sometimes leaves clipped to his shirtpocket when he comes in, but also because of the coworkers that occasionally come with him. From those coworkers, you also know that he’s a doctor, and you gather that he’s generally respected and admired as well as cared for by his team. He seems a bit awkward, but sure of himself where it matters, and he goes into every interaction with a kind curiosity. Most of all, you know that Spencer is smart. Like, expert in everything smart. You’d caught a few jokes from the people he’s brought in about an eidetic memory, his multiple PhDs, and the nickname “boy genius.” No matter how shy and sweet someone is, that’s intimidating. 

And it’s unnerving to have someone with an IQ higher than you can probably fathom asking about your intellectual habits. 

“Well, the plot doesn’t actually have much movement, so it’s pretty boring,” you say hesitantly. “I guess at this point I’m mostly in it for the prose. Plus my friend recommended it, so I have to finish it to keep her happy.” 

Spencer laughs at your little joke, nodding. “Wow, the prose alone is enough to keep you going? It must be pretty fascinating.” 

You want to backpedal immediately, but settle for a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s alright. I’m kind of a nerd for that stuff. Rhetorical devices and all.”

Spencer tilts his head, something igniting in his brown eyes. Interest. “Rhetorical devices. You mean like metaphor and personification?”

You nod. “Yeah, like those, but also anadiplosis and polysyndeton and anastrophe.” Spencer’s eyebrows move slowly upward as you speak, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks despite the slight chill. “I just like that there’s things that affect the emotion—or the pacing, or whatever—of writing that we as readers pick up on almost subconsciously, but were so intentional for the writer.” 

Spencer’s nodding, eyes going somewhere just slightly distant. “Yeah, that’s a good point. I mean, I know writing is a very intentional process, but I never really think about the tiny, word-level decisions authors make to influence readers.” 

“It’s so cool,” you agree. “Like, how long do you think it takes someone to land on the exact right word for what they’re trying to convey, or to structure their sentences in a way that builds momentum over the course of a paragraph? Like, so much goes into it.” 

Spencer’s smiling at you, and you realize you’re gushing, geeky zeal bursting out of you like a soda bottle that’s been shaken and finally uncapped. “Sorry. Um, what’re you reading lately?” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says quickly, still smiling at you. “I actually just finished my last book, so I’m looking for something new. If this book has all that and isn’t up to your standards, I’d be interested to see what you really enjoy reading.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot; you hope Spencer thinks the redness is from the cool breeze. “I’d be nervous to give you a recommendation,” you admit. “Too much pressure.” 

Spencer waves you off. “I’ll read anything, don’t worry about it. Hey, have you ever been to that coffee shop on fifth? It’s in a bookstore.” 

You blink. “No, I haven’t heard of it. That sounds cool, though.” 

A bit of pink tinges Spencer’s cheeks; it’s probably from the cool breeze. “Yeah, well, you should let me take you there sometime. If you want, of course,” he adds hastily. “Don’t worry about it if not.” 

It takes you a second to realize what’s happening. And then once you do, another second to make yourself believe it. “Like, as a date?” you ask, just to be sure.

 Spencer’s smile is hopeful behind its timidity. “Yeah. Yeah, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah.” You can’t think of anything better to say, your brain filling with buzzing bees. “That sounds good. Thanks.” 

He laughs, eyebrows coming together bemusedly. “Well, don’t thank me. I should be thanking you.” 

It’s more a thanks for his taking action, you think. For making a move when you’d been too scared to, stagnant with months over your anxiety that he’d think you were too dumb or trivial to want to keep talking to you after he’d picked up his sandwich. 

“Okay, great.” He stands. “Well, I have to get back, but I’ll, uh…I’ll see you? Friday, maybe? I can come by here after your shift.” 

“You know when my shift ends?”

Now even his ears are turning red. “You…around four, right? I sometimes see you if I’m leaving work around then.” 

You smile. “Yeah, four. See you then, Dr. Reid.” 

“See you then!” he turns around, and you can see the exact moment he thinks to wonder how you know his last name. You don’t bother worrying about it.

[empressdrusilla]

Got to lull a cute little dolly to sleep tonight, and let me tell you:

Soft dollification is massively fulfilling. I’m feeling *so* gratified right now. Just truly very satisfied. Next time you have a doll available to you, try telling it how you’re gonna brush its hair and dress it up because you care about it and because it deserves it.

Being horny is fun but sometimes you just gotta be nice and sweet and domestic and it’s also extremely fun and nice.

[beardedjoel]

💗🎉💗CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MILESTONE!💗🎉💗

I’m so happy for you! I found you through Closer, and I couldn’t be happier about it. You’re an amazing writer and such a lovely person!

I’m wondering… what about one of these?🌹the prompt number 1. I love your writing and I cannot stop myself from asking. Perhaps with Joel, or Frankie, or Pero…I’m not picky, I’ll be happy with whatever the inspiration leads you.

Alsooooo… Is it too much if I add a little bit of 💌? I’m curious about your writing process. How do you do it? Is it linear, or do you jump around, and later “paste it”?

wym, you're so sweet and i love sharing this space with you my friend 😘 thank you for sending in this prompt and allowing me to do something special with it. thanks for your patience as i have been painstakingly slow with making my way through this backlog of requests! i'll answer your thoughtful writing question at the very bottom of the post after the one shot, if that's alright!

axel and ember — joel x f!reader

request: "overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! i decided to use this one for something very personal to me. as someone who has dealt with vaginismus, this was challenging to write the last few days but it felt like the right direction for me to go in with this prompt. in no way does this describe the experience every person with vaginismus has (nor 100% true to mine), and it is a lot of hard work to help your body and mind learn to work with the sexual obstacles that come with it. i simplified things for the purpose of this story but still found it really gratifying to write so much from personal experience and feelings that i have dealt with. i highly encourage anyone who has not heard of vaginismus to do a little research as it's something that many, many women deal with in silence or is ignored as much of women's sexual health is. happy reading 💓

wc: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has vaginismus, unprotected piv

“Maybe… maybe it just doesn’t fit.”

You’d said the words, exasperated after trying for the third time that week.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darlin’,” Joel teases the words playfully, his hair hanging down into his face as he holds himself perched above you. His smile brusquely fades when he sees that you’re genuinely upset. Some days, it hadn’t been that big of a deal, you’d been able to shrug off the frustration. Today, however, you felt frayed and emotional, pissed off that your body couldn’t just behave like a normal body should. It’s infuriating, living in a body that won’t cooperate with your mind, seeing others do with ease what you never could. What you could only have as a fantasy. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” He leans down, kissing you softly before moving from where he’d been stationed on top of you to lay at your side.

Another dream of finally having sex with your boyfriend tonight slipped away in an instant. 

“What if I try the dilators again?” you ask desperately, meeting Joel’s gaze. His warm eyes look back at yours with empathy, and he shrugs.

“If y’want. But maybe you should jus’ rest. We already had our fun, yeah?”

He’d gotten you off, you’d gotten him off. Fingers and tongues and mouths, which admittedly were great, but you craved to know what more of him felt like, more than just the one, sometimes two fingers you could handle without soon wincing in discomfort.

You wanted him inside of you, wanted your bodies joined in the way that you were so cruelly being denied by the universe.

“N-no, you’re right. It was fun.” You flash him a somewhat forced smile, grateful for his patience and love when he wraps his arms around you. Joel had been such a constant with you, so wonderful, and that only made it hurt more that you couldn’t give him this. He’d never pressured you, never made you feel at fault these last five months you’d been dating. In some ways, it had brought you closer, not being able to rush into sex, but it didn’t mean that he’d stick around forever if it meant he couldn’t get the one thing you know men always want.

“We’re gonna get it one of these days,” he reassures you, stroking your hair. “You’re workin’ hard at your sessions and here at home. Don’t tell you enough that I think it’s great, seein’ you tryin’ all of that. But don’t do it for me, okay? Do it ‘cause it’s what you want.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. You were of course doing all of this work for yourself, so that you could freely enjoy something that should come so naturally to your body. Yet you knew that deep down the pressure was mounting, wanting to give Joel the sexual satisfaction you assumed he craved, something that your hands and mouth couldn’t give him. It was putting up a block between you and your sexuality, making each interaction that much more strained and distressing. You’re surprised Joel caught on to all of that when you’d been trying to put on a brave face for him. 

“I - I know,” you concede with a sigh. “I’m afraid sometimes. That I’ll never be enough without this piece of me.”

Joel’s deep set brow furrows further, looking hurt - for you or for himself, you can’t quite tell. His lips set into a firm line before they part, readying to speak. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing the way that y’are. I want that for us, ‘course I do. But I’d rather jus’ have you, whatever, however you are.”

“You would?” you ask sentimentally, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You laugh slightly, wiping under your eyes, knowing your question is ridiculous but still needing that extra validation that he’s sure. That he’s okay continuing to try this with you, even if it never results in anything. 

“Yes, silly. Why do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?” 

“‘Cause I find us all the good TV shows to watch?”

He laughs, his burly chest shaking with it. “Quit bein’ a pest, I’m tryin’ to be serious with you,” he quips back, trying and failing to hold back his chuckle.

“I know. I know what you’re saying, Joel. I -“ You swallow, your face falling, pulled back into the seriousness of the moment. “I appreciate you. So, so much.” You reach and wrap your arms tightly around him. You relish in the feeling of being close to him, your naked bodies melding together, the heater-like quality of Joel always comforting to you. 

“You’re all the good in this relationship, baby.”

“Who’s being a pest now?” You flick his chest, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter again, giddy at the late hour and the tax of this evening leaving you emotionally spent.

The voice deep inside your mind taunts you as you slowly listen to Joel falling asleep next to you, his breath falling to a rhythmic pattern interlaced with tiny, endearing snores. You hold back tears that come in the dark, feeling so small and alone in this moment, knowing that despite his reassurances, he could never truly understand how this feels for you.

The next few weeks go by with much of the same - you’re busy with life, work, friends, and going to your physical therapy sessions. It was awkward at first all those months ago, laying there bare underneath the sheet while a woman practically had half her hand inside of you, but you got used to it, even started to look forward to hearing about her life and her kids. 

You and Joel try a few more times to no avail, your body once seeming to have a breakthrough before promptly making you inhale sharply in pain, shaking your head dejectedly. 

You try to let it go, let all of it go. Learn that life doesn’t surround this, it simply can’t if you don’t want this pressure, this hole in your heart that you think you need to fill, to eat you alive. This cannot mean that you’re broken, that nobody could want to be with someone born with their factory settings just a little bit off. 

You see it on Joel’s face and in his demeanor, proudly taking note of the change within you. You start to pounce on him every chance you get, fueled by trying to feed this new, insatiable mental freedom you’ve allowed yourself. If you couldn’t have the sex you were dreaming of just yet, you figured that in the meantime you may as well make the sex you are having something new to dream about.

Joel, as predicted, is highly receptive to your new outlook, hands and lips all over you more often than not the second you step through his door to spend the night with him. You find yourself laughing with him when you’re being intimate instead of focusing on that pit in your stomach that worries if this time could finally be the time. You’ve done away with taking it far too seriously to even enjoy when your gracious boyfriend is buried between your legs like it’s his favorite thing. Now, you can appreciate all of it for what it is - a way to connect with Joel, to share something special and fun and sexy together.

You lie in bed with Joel this evening, cackling as you two take turns narrating excerpts from a friend’s most recent read in the romance department that she’d lent you. For inspiration, she’d teased, saying it might help your mind and body become more open to connecting with one another on the topic of sex. You’d taken it with a grain of salt but now it was the evening's top entertainment. You had to admit that she had a point - it did feel nice to read about characters that were so sexually open that anything seemed possible for them.

“The people in these books are unreal,” you manage to get out through your laughter, wiping the stream of tears that coats your cheeks. Joel wipes at the corners of his own eyes, still chuckling.

“Wouldn’t mind givin’ some of these a try one of these days, bet you’d be sexy flipped upside down or whatever the hell they were doin’,” Joel says, propped up on his elbow, his handsome eyes smoldering in your direction. The implication that many of the acts the fictional couple are doing involves things that your body hasn’t been cooperating enough to even go near makes you stiffen for a moment. Maybe a month ago, the comment would have wrecked you, sent you spiraling or feeling self conscious about this perceived insufficiency of yours, but now you let it slide right off your back.

You scrunch your nose at him, letting it fall into a sly smile as he flicks his eyes over you in appreciation. “Shush,” you tease. “We need to find out what happens next to… whatever their names are.” This had all been in good fun, and their names seemed secondary to the juicy details of their sex lives. 

“Axel and Ember.” Joel cuts in, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You deadpan. “Right… Someone has been paying attention.”

“Go on, then…” Joel insists with sass, his hand motioning expectantly to the open book in your lap. You smirk before focusing on the page and continuing where you left off. You two read until both of your eyelids get heavy, the words muttered slower and slower, your bodies buzzing hotly with arousal from the content yet far too tired to do anything to make a move on the other person. 

“Tomorrow,” Joel utters in your ear just as you’re moving into that cozy, floaty, drifting sensation before it all goes black. “Tomorrow I’m gonna Axel your ass into oblivion.”

You’re awoken by a kiss, feather light upon your lips. Your lids flutter open to see Joel, his scruffy beard and unbearably cute bed head up close and personal with you. It’s barely light out, the room bathed in the pale blue glow that comes right before dawn. Your skimpy camisole strap has slid off your shoulder, the entire thing askew and leaving one of your tits bared to him. Joel’s eyes seem to be glued there before flicking back and forth between your now perky nipple and your face. His lips close around it, gently sucking, and you writhe, your body turning towards his.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters against your hot skin, breath ghosting over your sensitive nipple. You shudder, your skin prickling with anticipation, the space between your thighs desperately empty. Going to bed so unsatisfied seemed to have done a number on the both of you as you’re now acutely aware Joel pressing up against you, his cock already hard and leaking.

“Joel…” you whine, hips bucking towards him.

He dives in, his lips devouring yours, shifting his body to straddle yours, grasping the sides of your face in his hands. His tongue laps into your mouth and you arch your back into the way his hips start to grind into yours, burning desire low in your belly. You’re already so damn wet from his teasing, more than you’ve ever been, built up longing spilling over from last night.

“I… want to try right now,” you finally manage to gasp out as his lips separate from yours for a brief second. He pauses, looking down at you, his heavy lidded eyes sincere as they dance over your features.

“You sure? It’s okay if we jus’ -”

“No. I’m sure,” you tell him. “I feel so good. I want to feel good with you.” Your fingers dig into his bare back, urging him on.

He only nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He places gentler kisses on your lips before moving to your neck, then down your body until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. Tugging those down along with your panties, he moves with certainty and care, adoring your soft skin in every place along the way. 

He touches a gentle finger to your slit, so sensitive and swollen now, and you suck in a breath.

“Holy shit. God damn, baby,” he muses with awe, fire burning in his dark eyes.

You chuckle shakily, feeling your cheeks flush as you avert your eyes shyly. “I - I know. I need you.”

“Can practically feel her puslin’,” he growls, licking his lips, desire clouding his mind.

Your cheeks only grow hotter at his dirty words, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Taking a page from Axel’s book, I see,” you tease him breathily.

“Nah. This is all Joel Miller, baby,” he replies just as he uses his whole hand to cup your slick cunt, the both of you groaning quietly. Joel starts to shimmy his briefs down, leaving him completely stripped underneath the covers with you. You wait for him to climb back on top of you, carefully removing your top and taking you in.

“Perfect.” He smiles, and you wrap your legs around his waist, a silent signal that you’re ready. Joel reaches between your bodies, bringing his cock to your cunt, lazily moving it through the folds until he’s coated in your arousal, each stroke making your hips buck, your need climbing to an unbearable level.

“Please…” you whine, feeling the emptiness inside of you, craving that full sensation you’ve been romanticizing time and time again in your mind.

“I got you, baby. No matter what. I’m right here, ‘kay?” You feel him line himself up, trying to manage your expectations as you nod for him, swallowing down your nerves. Even if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll be okay, you’ll be oka -

The tip of his cock pushes past your entrance, and you gasp, eyes going wide. You both pause, staring at each other in an optimistic, full silence, breathing heavily.

You nod again, mouth agape. “More…” you whisper softly, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your body.

Joel smiles, pressing his hips into you the tiniest bit more. He still slides in with ease, the smallest pinch subsiding when he takes a beat, then pushes a little more, repeating the process a few times. You feel the stretch, the slight burn as your body adjusts, your mind racing at the miracle that’s occurring, barely even able to register it right now.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, starting to shake. Joel leans down to kiss you, a comforting move, but it only pushes his cock in another bit, making you gasp softly at the fullness.

To your shock, when he pulls back the sensation begins to near something pleasurable. “Sorry,” he quickly spits out, his concerned stare meeting yours.

“No. It’s good. A-again. Do that again.” You start to smile in earnest, a toothy grin that you can’t help but feel spread across your face. 

“What… this?” he asks coyly, more overt with the thrust inwards as he pulls his lips into yours. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and kissing the sensitive skin there. “You’re so wet, so fuckin’ tight, baby. You feel incredible.”

You shudder underneath him, moaning softly as his words travel right to your core, burning with a new kind of eagerness you’ve never felt before. “You feel so good,” you echo back to him as you pant.

Joel starts to move, testing the waters with slow, steady movements. You keep breathing, terrified that any minute the ball will drop or this will have been a dream or some cruel trick your body is playing on you. But the sporadic bursts of discomfort subside with each new roll of Joel’s hips, blooming into something pleasurable and sweet, pulling up from deep inside of you.

Emotion bubbles to the surface before you can even tame it, your eyes brimming with tears when Joel bottoms out inside of you, pulling back and pushing in to the hilt again. It feels good, amazing even, to be so full of him, to celebrate this victory, even if only for today.

“Shit. Sweetheart, you’re okay, right? Are you hurting?” Joel freezes when he sees your watery eyes, every muscle coiled stiffly, his face screwed up in fear.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to sob, but Joel’s faithful, genuine concern puts you over the edge. Tears spill, rolling down your cheeks in profound little streaks, every bit of your frustration and pain and anger from the last half of a year pouring out into this beautiful display of pure joy.

“I swear, I’m happy, I’m happy,” you cry out, immediately cradled in Joel’s arms.

“Good,” Joel breathes out in relief. “You’re happy, I’m the happiest fuckin’ guy in the world.”

His words make the tears flow faster, but you start to laugh amidst it all. “Stop making me cry harder!” you chastise him, hugging him tightly around the neck. 

“Joel…” you say after a long, tender embrace, the two of you soaking it in. His cock still throbs inside of you, reminding you of the pleasure you’d started to chase moments ago, lost to the emotion of the moment.

“Hm?” he asks, pulling his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your to look at you.

“Please fuck me now.”

He grins, the movement lighting up his entire face with a lusty glow before he eagerly crashes his lips with yours again. When you see his eyes again, you swear they’re a shade darker, his cheeks tinged with the color of desire. Low and gravelly, he finally speaks. 

“Grab your god damned vibrator, sweetheart.”

to answer your 💌 my writing process is a little all over the place! i used to write mostly linearly, that was what worked for me and i kind of thought of everything in order. but lately i have been doing a bit more doc hopping when i get stuck. maybe writing a later scene that i have ideas for and feel like it's more fleshed out or going back and polishing older paragraphs and such. i definitely am not a big outliner and plotter, which i'd like to get better about! but mostly everything just lives in my head and gets blobbed onto the doc once i have time to write it, which sometimes leaves things forgotten hehe

(divider by @/saradika-graphics!)

[thespoonisvictory]

there's something very true to me about brennan's point about impulsive morality and suvi, because YEAH. one of suvi's best traits is that despite the inclination for characters like suvi (female, high int, competitive) she is not a perfectionist. she doesn't get analysis paralysis, doesn't doubt her abilities or her authority, doesn't get caught up in looking back, as long as she has all the information.

when suvi is at her best, her mind, her beliefs, and her actions are one clear, shining line. it's all one movement through her, and it's so fun and gratifying to watch.

[astraystayyh]

i love anything to do with domesticity with skz

Mundane activities you'd enjoy with SKZ!!!

Chan : painting your nails together

i can't stop thinking about how excited chan was to draw little shapes on his nails :,)

so one day when he sees you bringing out a bottle of nail polish, he asks to paint your nails for you

you blink at him and he starts fiddling with his ear nervously

he's like "nvm" but you giggle, pulling him by the hand towards the floor

you both sit in there and he places your palm on top of his knee

his tongue would poke against his cheek in concentration and you can't help but kiss him because he's so ADORABLE

which in turn becomes a kiss after each painted nail

he's so proud of the finished product

he's clapping all excited and he looks so endearing this way

you make a mental note of asking him to paint your nails more often

you paint his nails in return and now you are sporting matching nails

so cute

Minho : cooking with him

You love cooking with Minho

You don't do it often because you are both busy

but when you do have time it's one of your favorite activities together

you move seamlessly around each other in the kitchen

you don't talk lots because you are busy with your own tasks

but your hands brush against each other

and he places his hand on your lower back to grab the pan next to you

or you kiss his shoulder quickly while you're on your way to the fridge

just subtle touches here and there,, like a silent "i love you"

sometimes when you are tired, he makes you sit on the countertop while he cooks for you

you rant about whatever's bothering you and he hums, offering advice when needed

and you also liked watching him cook

he looked very beautiful in his element

and it was always gratifying to eat something you both prepared together

Changbin : bringing you a glass of water

now this might sound so silly

but Changbin is very adamant on making sure you are healthy

and i see him bringing you a glass of water throughout the day and not leaving till you drank it all

like you'd be watching tv and he's suddenly in front of you with a glass of water

or you're just brushing your hair and he's like DRINK!!!!!

or he'd place one on your bedside so you'd drink it first thing in the morning

he might also buy those 3L bottles with encouraging words on them

and whenever you finish drinking he'd grin so brightly

and he'd plant a big kiss on your lips

"you are me so take care of yourself" type of energy

Hyunjin : brushing your hair for you

when you are tired or sick, the thought of brushing your hair is just draining

and hyunjin picks up on your low moods

when you leave the shower and you just sit on top of your bed staring at nothing

hyunjin comes up behind you, hairbrush in his hands

he'd place soft kisses on your shoulder blade

before gently sectioning your hair and brushing it

he'd be so careful while untangling your knots

making sure not to hurt you

when he's done, he'll loosely braid it for you

before peppering your face with kisses

he's just so gentle :(

you'd brush his hair too for him

and when you are done he'd lay his head on your lap

and you'd run your fingers gently through his hair

while he dozes off because your touch is so calming to him

Han : midnight errands

running errands with han at night is just so fun

you both go there with no list planned

you just pick up whatever seems appealing to you

because you are too lazy to cook dinner but you are also hungry

so you'd start placing random food items onto your cart

you'll eat them while watching movies later

will sooo play rock paper scissors to see who'll pay

he always looses too

he WILL whine but he actually doesn't mind

he loves paying for your food

when you are done, you'll climb onto the supermarket cart

and han would push you around while you giggle so hard

then it's your turn to spin him around

until he's begging you to stop because he's so dizzy

always ends with him giving you a piggy back ride home

while you clutch the bags of groceries in your hands

you'd sing on your way home as if you are both drunk

but it's just the giddiness of your love for each other

Felix : cutting up fruit for each other

When felix starts gaming he's just gone

like expect him to be in his own world

sometimes he loses track of time and he doesn't eat for hours

you started cutting up fruits and bringing them to him in a bowl so he'd snack on them

the first time you did it he blushed so hard because he appreciated the sweet gesture

then it became a habit of yours

he started pulling you onto his lap

so you'd both eat the fruits together while he games

you'd feed him pieces while eating some too

then he picked up on this habit of yours

and now whenever you are studying/working too he'd place a bowl of fruit on your desk

he then kisses your forehead and goes on with his tasks

it's just your silent way of taking care of each other

and you both appreciate it a lot

Seungmin : folding laundry together

You'd make a little date out of it

bringing the basket of clean clothes to the living room

and starting up a cheesy drama

you'd fold your laundry while watching the show

legs crisscrossed on the couch and your thighs pressing agaisnt each other

and you'd both make comments about how cringey the main character is

but you still love watching

it was your way of spending more time together

sometimes you'd turn the tv show off and you'd tell each other about your day

ranting about whatever went through your mind

i also imagine you starting silly debates while folding the clothes

like "is it cereal before milk?" or "do you wear both socks before putting the shoes on?"

it'd be your little personal unwinding moment

and you started to look forward to it each time you did laundry

Jeongin : putting on skincare together

this man slaps toner 7 times to his face I'm still not over it ANYWAYS

you'd both meet up in the bathroom every night

your skincare would be nicely lined up

and then you'd both start doing your respective routines

while a random song plays in the background

it will turn into an impromptu karaoke because the bathroom has a nice echo

he'd tease you for your voice cracks and you'd roll your eyes at him

but he really looked forward to these moments with you every night

he knew that whatever happened throughout the day, he'd be there with you in the end

sometimes when Innie is tired, you apply his skincare for him

"7 times? really?" you ask him amused and he nods, "yeah that's why my skin is so nice. keep up"

if you are ever too tired and you end up crashing on your bed directly

he'd be there with a makeup wipe

gently removing makeup from your face

and placing tiny kisses on your nose

he's in love your honor

[mtkay13]

Working hard on the business!!

I had a lot of fun working on this piece that fits well as a companion to this one! I really, really enjoy Wuxi and Zishu's side hustle and think about it a lot.

More musings on this piece below!

I have been thinking a lot about Wuxi and Zishu's relationship for the past few months--working on the translation of Qiye has given me a fresh look and new perspective on it which I feel like elaborating on for a bit.

While they come from very different place and are 5 years apart in age, Wuxi and Zishu seem to rather quickly relate to each other due to both being outsiders--to the capital and its codes. It's very sweet to see how quickly Wuxi seems intrigued and interested in Zishu, wanting to know more about him and quick to react when he's around.

Beiyuan is Wuxi's only friend so far, and I think it's very refreshing for Wuxi to find another person with whom he may be able to relate more on some regards, and whom he can look up to in terms of martial arts skills and craftiness. This is a personal HC of mine, but I sort of see Wuxi as having this sort of (fully platonic) "cool older guy crush" on Zishu.

Because of that, I feel like Zishu showing interest in Wuxi and going as far as to offer him to collaborate must have been incredibly validating and exciting. It was a way for Wuxi to be more independent, do something for himself aside from his own training, aside from his role as the young shaman of Nanjiang. Something for his own experimentation and profit--be useful, but also be shown respect and interest by someone he himself is interested in and respects.

I like to imagine that Zishu was already interested in poisons given his field of work and potentially learned a thing or two about that back in Siji manor--even potentially worked on some of his own, and was therefore more than excited to be able to figure out new things with Wuxi's help. On top of that, it must have been pretty fun and gratifying to work on this side hustle which in turn also helped gain some more control over the population (welp).

So yeah! It's nice to think more about what lead to the bond they have, and I can't help but think of how affected Wuxi must have been in TYK when he discovers Zishu's state several years later. Regardless of how helpful Zishu was when Wuxi worked to get Beiyuan out of the capital, he was a friend first and foremost and that alone must be a big reason why Wuxi is so determined to find a way to save him.

(that aside, the illustration was more fun to make than I initially feared. I usually don't like having to work on a ton of tiny details LOL but somehow the atmosphere here made it entertaining!)

(btw! I don't know if I mentioned it before, but in case I didn't: I transliterate "Wuxi" as such ((in one word)) because, him not being han, it feels more right to transliterate his name in a non-han fashion as well. It's unlikely that his family name is Wu and first name is Xi--rather, Nanjiang/Wasa names seem to work differently ((same for Axinlai and Nuaha)) than the typically han family name-first name model. Many thanks to Lianzi and the other members of the 7.0 team for bringing that up! That's it!)