#but god sometimes he takes more patience than i have

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

Be nice to your local nidus not just bc it's the Decent Thing To Do but also bc you can never know if they have a strength invig and if you make a career out of Being An Inconvenience then you're sure as hell not gonna find out either

[lovermake]

sitting in their lap ! ( ft jjk men + women )

synopsis : short cute headcannons that involve sitting in your partner’s lap and how they react to it. some are suggestive / nsfw, others are pure fluff !

content warnings : NSFW 18+ ( viewer discretion advised ), fingering, sitting in lap, grinding, dry humping + dry sex, wlw content ( men dni ), praise, slight degradation, possessive & soft sex <3

choso

it’s unexpected when you plop straight into his lap, when you ask if you could “sit here.” He did not realize he was an option, as you your back rested against him. But nonetheless he is happy with the choice you made and lets you make yourself at home. ( though if you spend too long sitting on his crotch, don’t be shocked when you start to feel something rubbing against your ass ! )

“mind if I join?” you greet entering the living room to choso scrolling on his phone as some news channel plays. he raises a brow confused as to why you asked because you would usually just plop besides him and gossip about your job. before he could even say or react to your question, you plop right onto his lap with your back to his chest, sighing loudly as you are finally comfortable.

you don’t have to turn your head to know that his face was turning to a soft pink, and he was fighting the urge to not gently place his hands on your waist. Choso is left defeated not knowing exactly what to say to your random gesture, so all he does is truly lay back and let you find comfort in his lap and chest.

it’s adorable when you fall asleep after a little while of chatting, for he gently rubs your back and plays with the strands of your hair as you sleep softly against him. he mumbles how cute you are, before eventually drifting off into a sleep of his own.

nanami

it’s grown a regular routine for you to sit in your husband’s lap usually when he is eating the food you have made for him after a long day of work. he never makes any advances, or at the very least tries not to, for he doesn’t want to ruin the intimate moment with devious urges. despite how much he wants to take you over the kitchen counter. but it seems tonight you seem to want him to.

you’re wearing a short apron with not much underneath other than a cute pink pair of panties with a bow, and of course Nanami notices your advances, given that you aren’t much of a chatterbox as always and rather tend to rub yourself against him on his crotch. and while the steak you have cooked and seared for the night was delicious, he was much more interested in devouring something else.

but what was dessert without finishing dinner ?

he does his best to not react to your advances as an attempt to at least finish the meal you have prepared, but you’re really dedicated to get what you want, straddling him and gently pressing your hands against his chest. and with a simple gesture of loosening his tie, he is quick to have you laid upon the dining table, apron pushed up, panties pulled down.

you tried to play it off by reminding Kento of his food, but that could always wait for later. “I’m sorry my love, I don’t have much patience and it seems neither do you.” he presses a kiss to your temple before his lips drag themselves from your cheek, to your neck, to your waist, and to your clit.

though nanami promises to finish his food later, he never does, for you became his priority for the rest of the night.

maki

your favorite thing to do with your girlfriend was surprise her out of the blue, especially by randomly scaring her with a hug, gently biting her cheek, sometimes smacking her ass and playing a game of tag, or plopping yourself in her lap. which is what you decided to do today. she had just finished washing her hair and was taking a moment to relax on the bed when you decide to plop onto her lap. her initial reaction was to scold you and tell you, you should be studying, but she decides to take advantage of your impulsive gesture.

“oh MY god, stop !!” you scream, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, laughter falling from your lips as she tickled your waist and stomach. your kicking your feet, but it doesn’t keep her from tickling you, as your throwing your head back and attempt to push away her hands.

she can only giggle along, satisfied with how ticklish you were. “this is why you should be studying,” she playfully scolds and you can’t help but laugh even harder. at this point she would be knocking the breath out of you. “this is what you get!”

after so long she finally frees you of her mercy and you hop of the bed to go study as she mentioned. she smacks your ass as you leave the room, “and make sure to practice your domain.”

you only stick your tongue out as you leave, earning another chuckle from your sweet girl.

geto

he had asked you to help him dry his hair, given its length. and usually you’d stand behind him as he sat down and rambled about his villainous activities, but today you decided to try a new angle and decide to sit in his lap and dry his hair. the gesture surprises him, but he adores it, keeping a hand on your waist as you dried his hair.

“oh!” he mumbles softly, as he watches you straddle his lap. you’re body is facing his and it’s very close eye contact as you begin to dry his hair with a towel. at first he is looking you up and down as you begin to dry the damp strands. “you’ll be able to get the lower ends of my hair?”

you giggle. “I’ll be able to, don’t worry! continue you on about your day.”

he’s a bit reluctant, for he hated having his hair wet, but he loved having you on his lap like this so he continued on with his rambling, thought he could barely focus again. you were wearing a black tank top and fuzzy shorts, so the sight did his lead his mind to wander. but nonetheless he needed his hair dry so he kept his urges to himself.

nobara

you both take turns sitting in each others lap but you tend to do it the most. and every time you do, it’s always a soft intimate moment you share with your fiancé for she adores combing through your curls. her favorite thing to do as you sit in her lap is either braid or try new styles with your hair since it’s much longer and more different than hers.

“ow!” you whine, squinting your eyes as your girlfriend brushes through your hair. “be careful!”

she whispers a sorry and kisses your cheek. you grow more relaxed in her lap and she continues brushing your hair to a perfect slicked back bun, keeping a couple of curls to bounce out in the front.

“how do you like it, [ your name ] ?” nobara asks, holding a mirror up for you. she has given you a side part, slicked back with two curls on each side of your ears and a beautiful curly bun in the back. you’re so quick to turn back and give him a big kiss and thank her for her work, which she softly blushes for in her ears.

toji

He’s initially pissed when you sit on his lap, rather than taking a seat on his couch (a couch he thrifted for $3 and a wing) but when your rub his ass on his crotch, all that anger immediately rushes to pleasure, hands strapping to your waist. Suddenly his pants have been pushed down, your panties ripped (per usual).

“fuck,” you whimpered, your hands on his thighs, as you bounced on his cock. his eyes constantly going up, and down, up and down. it was a shame you weren’t facing him because he would have adored, seeing your titties bounce in his face to. but the two of you had time after this, so he wasn’t all that concerned. “making me do all the work?”

toji leans back and laughs at your question. “making you work too hard princess?” you aren’t given much time to answer because he wraps his hands around your waist and by keeping you still he begins to thrust deep inside of you, watching you hiccup and whimper in pleasure. his name leaving your mouth all too many times.

at some point you couldn’t even moan words, everything falling from your lips was incoherent and before you knew it you were screaming in pleasure as his seed pumped deep inside of you. your legs shaking and your chest going up and down.

“fucking shit, toji.” you whimpered and he only chuckles, signaling to you that this would only be the beginning.

gojo

in all honesty he’s been waiting patiently until you would hop onto his lap. because it gives him the advantage to tease you and crawl his hands under your shirt with his cold hands. but of course his teasing is never just an innocent tease.

“gojo!” you squeak. you had decided to plop into your boyfriend’s lap unexpectedly, and he then decided to unexpectedly slip his hands under your shirt with his icy cold hands. he can only throw his head back and laugh. “your hands are cold!”

“I heard being cold makes sex all the more exciting” he lies through his teeth, and you can only turn your head with a glare. he lies but somewhere in his heart he does believe that’s true. the type of boyfriend you have is the type to click on exaggerated ads and then wonder why his computer been hacked again.

his thumbs gently flick over your nipples in surprise and you can’t help but moan this time at the feeling. there’s a devious snicker that escapes his throat and you glare again. “see I told you that was true!”

© lovermake’s works 2024. Do not use my writing for language translation, re-editing, plagiarism, heavy inspiration, posting through other social media apps, or stealing.

[tojisun]

simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! suggestive-ish; hinted age difference (20s vs 30s); hinted d/s; minors dni

“why won’t you fuck me?”

your pitiful voice stops simon from moving, his feet stuttering with muted thuds. he breathes in sharply, not having expected the words that slipped from your lips, before he turns and tips his head towards you.

you’re trembling, and simon doesn’t know if it’s because of the cool air or the intensity of your emotions, those that urged you to whine at his pathetic display of restraint, but still he hesitates. afraid that if he comes close, then the remnant of his patience will finally snap.

because it’s not that simon wouldn’t fuck you – god knows there’s nothing more he’d want to do than love you slowly and deeply, caressing you tenderly until you are trembling at the intensity of his passion; until the doubts are finally crushed by the force of his affections – but it’s that he knew you deserve someone better.

someone who wouldn’t leave you for months and years long because of a mission. someone who’d stay by your side each and every hour because he knows you (sometimes he wished he didn’t, if only to make it easier to forget about you), and he knows that you need someone to spoil you. to pamper you.

simon knows you deserve more than the world, knows that he can only give you pieces of it but he’s selfish. he’s a monster wearing a human suit – incapable of surrendering, incapable of giving you up.

because simon knows you deserve better but gods he doesn’t want to let you go.

he moves to speak but you beat him to it, your lips wobbling as tears trickle down the corners of your eyes like molten diamonds. “you parade me around like a trophy wife but you won’t even give me a portion of that attention. you-”

his heart stops at the choked sob that gets stuck in the base of your throat, your face crumpling as you tremble at the intensity of your heartache.

it was instant how he moved to you, his frantic steps echoing against the cobblestone. he takes you in his arms, tucking your head underneath his chin and engulfing you in his embrace, hoping that you’d hear the staccato of his heart and know that it only ever beats for you.

you whine like you couldn’t decide if you want his comfort or not and simon freezes, afraid that he’s just heightened your bleeding heart. he moves to step away, his lips parting for an apology, but you clutch at the ends of his shirt, refusing to let go.

he follows your silent command – simon will follow you no matter where, no matter what – and presses you close again, his warmth mixing with yours and chasing away the goosebumps that littered your skin.

he kisses the top of your head, breathing you in. simon mulls over what to say, his own hesitation bursting at the corners of his mind, but he wants to stop pretending. he wants to stop lying to himself.

you love him and he loves you – sometimes, it could be that easy.

words aren’t his strongest suits but he tries anyway. “i love you,” he begins, the words slipping past his teeth with the simplicity of the truth. “i burn with the desire to be with you, sweet girl. but not this way. not yet.”

you tip your head up just enough to catch his gaze and simon croons at your swollen eyes, pressing gentle kisses on your eyebrows in comfort.

“why not?” you ask, ever so stubborn.

“because there are preparations that need to be done,” he replies, humming when your eyes widen in surprise. “i want to make love with you, sweetheart. not just make it as something fast and temporary.”

he watches you breathe in shakily.

“would you want that?” simon continues amidst your silence, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

you bite your bottom lip and nod. he clicks his tongue. “use y’r words. i need to hear it from you.”

“yes please,” you whisper, and simon coos at the broken rumble of your voice, still heavy with doubt. “i- yes. please, simon. i’d love that.”

“me too, sweet girl.” simon kisses your forehead, sealing the promise. “i’d love nothing more.”

[faylvrs]

☆ THINK I ONLY WANT YOU under my mistletoe!

❦ m.kaiser x reader : he’s below something as ridiculous as christmas- a kiss? count him in. ɞ‎ cw : slight making out, fluff, 0.4k wc ʚ event masterlist ( #DAY4 ) ꣑ৎ

“that’s stupid.” kaiser rolls his eyes at the little mistletoe you set up above the door. absolutely refusing to step in when you told him what it’s for. “you think this little plant can push the emperor to kiss you?” he shoots you a teasing look. a confident smirk that never fails to make your ears flush, even if it’s a little.

but in reality, you can kiss him whenever you want. hell, sometimes he gets nervous to kiss you. compared to him, you’re an angel, heaven-sent. to him, you were carved by the graceful touch of god himself. he doesn’t know what kind of deed he’s done to deserve you, but he’s absolutely grateful for it.

“just shut up ‘n come here.” you cross your arms, patience running loose. you have been waiting for him for a while, after all. the thought of kissing your boyfriend under a mistletoe? this should be straight out of a fanfic!

“coming, coming, schatz.” he takes off his shoes, placing them inside the shelf next to your door carefully. you’re more than just someone he loves—you’re also someone who’s taught him the ins and outs of the world, in other words, manners. it was like yesterday he was walking inside your house with shoes on.

he finally walks inside the room, now under the mistletoe which was touching his hair—he’s tall. the sight of him leaning against the door for you, it looks like it came right out of a magazine.

“chickening out now?” he smirks at you, enjoying the way your ears flush and tug at his shirt. you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. you try to ignore the way his breath hits your face, his face was red. you definitely had some kind of effect on him.

you feel him whisper something inaudible in your ear, not having enough time to process it as his lips lock onto yours. you could feel a sense of relief at the feeling of his warmth hitting your lips. his kiss was hypnotising—he was hypnotising. the tenderness of his lips put your soul into pure bliss.

it’s over a lot quicker than you wanted it to be, already missing the feeling of his mouth when he pulls away. “got what you wanted?” he pinches your cheeks, eliciting an ow! from you. your breath was fast and unsteady, “yeah.”

no matter how many times you kiss michael kaiser, it will always feel like a blessing.

idk how to write a kiss this is soo fast-paced 🫠

[kombuuuu]

Miles 42 headcanons?

no one asked but i’ll deliver !!

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader random headcanons

also a lot of snippets :)

You/Reader: Blue

Miles Morales: Purple

Mama Rio/Rio Morales: Pink

Uncle Aaron/Aaron Morales: Orange

Random/stranger: Black

—

gift giving love language duhhh

Will have you walk with him through malls and whatever you look at for a second too long he buys

You don’t catch on until you’re both eating at a nice restaurant, absentmindedly staring at some plant when a lull in conversation happens.

He purchases the plant.

“Fuck you mean I can’t buy it?”

“Sir, the plants aren’t for sale, this is a dining establishment.”

“Establish the fact I’m gettin’ that plant.”

“Sir—“

50 bucks down and a plant 🆙

He will damn right die if you refuse him. He’ll get all grumpy and pouty when you say he should save for a house, not for you.

convinced you just get shy when bought things (you do).

is even more motivated to buy things

“Miles, baby, you need to save up. Not spend on me!”

“This would look so good on you, Ma.”

“Are you listening??”

“Fuck, and this.”

“Oh my god.”

gets so jealous it’s unbelievable

but only when someone goes too far with you

it’s like 1–100 real quick

he’s not usually the prowling type (ha)

but when someone pushes the line he loses his shit

other than that he’s a supportive bbg all the way

“Wanna go home with me, butterface?”

“Fuck you just say?”

“Nothing homie just get outta here.”

“Say that shit again ‘homie’.”

“Chill the fuck out. Let the lady speak for herself.”

“I’ll fucking speak for my girl all I want, homeboy.”

maybe got a liiiiittle bit of an anger issue

guy went home with a broken nose and a missing tooth

better hope he can afford fill ins

he would never get mad at you though

he gets frustrated you don’t listen sometimes, but it’s never to the point of anger

feel like he has the patience of a fucking SAINT

calm and collected baby u know the deal

“Mami, we gonna have a problem?”

“”

“Didn’t think so.”

a SWEETHEART at times

stand by him being raised right

mama rio taught him to be a romantic

wanted him to take after his dad

so flowers and gifts and chocolates

followed by lovin of any kind

probably a baby for affection but doesn’t show it

so when you get all emotional about being gifted roses for the first time

and hug him and smother him

give him stupid little kisses all over

he’s fainting

poor boy doesn’t know love like u show him

“Baby, are these for me?”

“Yeah, Chiquita. They okay?”

“Wh… They’re perfect.”

“Are you cryin’? I can return ‘em.”

“No! No, no, don’t do that.

I love them, C’mere.”

when you guys get rlly comfortable, like a year and some dating, he ends up getting more chatty

willingly talking w you for hours

feels like you’re the only person he can rlly do that with

rambles so rarely that you kind of just sit in awe when it happens

doesn’t catch himself until he’s trying to name your future kids

“I’ll marry you one day, we’ll have like two, three kids. Get all nice an cozy.

You want a boy or girl? I kinda want both. Definitely not girl first, never having a girl without a brother to protect ‘er.

You’d be such a good Mami.

What’d you wan’ name ‘em? I have a few ideas—“

“..”

“But you could choose the girl cause I don’t know any pretty names. And i’ll choose—“

“..”

“..”

“You gon’ let me keep goin?”

“I love your voice.”

“Tranquila, mami.”

Takes you to every family event he ever has

sits you regularly with Rio and Aaron

they insist you call them uncle and ma

you do, obviously

miles doesn’t need to meet your family if you don’t want him to, but if he ever does he’s totally suave with them

like weirdly smooth

able to get on ur carers good side quick

when you meet his extended family they’re just as loving

his whole family is this bright dash of colour

and you fit right the fuck in

“¡Oh, hija estás preciosa!”

“Dice la estrella de la fiesta!”

“You flatter me, Hija.”

“Miles, come get your girl.”

“You look nice too, Uncle Aaron.”

“..Thanks, kid.”

“Hey Mami, havin’ fun?”

“Aight, I’m out.”

when you find out he’s the prowler you’re not really shocked

he’s hella nervous to tell you and kinda puts it off for a while

as long as you’re not in harms way, nothin matters, yeah?

no

the guilt eats him alive

he’s already lost so much, if he doesn’t do things right with you, then loses you too

he’d probably lose himself

so he tells you

“The Prowler?”

“Yeah.”

“The.. Panther guy I keep seeing on the news-?”

“Mm.”

“Miles are you—

..—Are you killing people?”

“Mami, it’s not like that—“

“oh my god.”

“These men— I kill,”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“,They’re bad, you understand.”

“Miles..”

“[Name]. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.. Yeah I understand.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“…”

“Are you mad.”

“I’m not happy.”

“Okay.”

you’re kind of devastated he’s killing people

but you eventually get it

like it takes a while

say a month or so

but you forgive quick

i mean, who knows what those men are doing, right?

(ur delulu but it’s ok)

he lets you have your space but talking with mama rio when she realises your absence knocks some sense into him

mans is going to GROVEL

he will fucking beg on his damn knees

knocks on your door and is already kneeling

will plead with you to come back to him

like i said a whole ass romantic

you know what’s romantic? a man who can get on his knees

he will suffocate you in gifts and affection

oh you like (insert sanrio esc character) ? look over there at that lifesize plushie woahhhh wonder who that’s forrrrrr

“Hello?”

“Mami, don’t close the door.”

“Miles, go home.”

“And please stop kneeling, the floor is dirty.”

“I’m not leaving ‘til you hear me out.”

looooong sigh

“Okay, fine— whatever, come inside. You have two minutes.”

“God, I missed you. You’re so beautiful Chiquita.”

“Three minutes.”

You talk it out easy, he’s a real smooth talker when he wants to be

“Okay Miles, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah, Ma. See you soon.”

“Wh—.. What is that?”

“Ohhh…”

“Why the fuck is it so big?”

“It said “Life Size” on the site? I was thinking like two feet tall.”

“You bought that?”

“Yeah.. I was thinkin’ you wouldn’t let me in. Would have to bribe you.”

“…That’s really cute.”

Annnnnd that’s all i can come up with i’ll probably do more later :P

[0omillo0]

Comfort after a fight

a/n: This was such a heartfelt request! I can really imagine Bang Chan being incredibly tender and empathetic in this kind of situation. The idea of him comforting you after a moment of accidental hurt just shows how deeply he cares. He'd do anything to make it right again, and he'd definitely be the kind of person to sit with you through your toughest moments, never letting go.

this is for @hyunjins-orange-slice-too <3 thank you cutie!!

꒰ 🗯️ ꒱

It was a rough day for Bang Chan, and it showed. His shoulders sagged, face etched with exhaustion, and he barely managed a small smile as he stepped into the apartment. You had noticed his demeanor immediately, sensing that something was off, but you gave him space, as he often needed time to unwind before he opened up.

However, tonight was different. Tension hung heavy in the air, thick and palpable. You busied yourself in the kitchen, hoping to make him something to eat, a small gesture of comfort. But as you tried to talk to him, to check in, his responses were short, clipped. His patience was wearing thin, and you could feel the fragile balance between you beginning to fray.

“Hey, Chan… I made some dinner for us,” you said softly, walking over to where he sat slumped on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

“Not hungry,” he muttered without looking up.

You bit your lip, trying not to take it personally. You knew he had bad days, that sometimes his own mind was his worst enemy, but the distance between you tonight felt unsettling. You sat down beside him, offering a small, tentative smile.

“Are you okay? You seem… off.”

At that, something snapped.

“Can you not?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a knife. “I just need space, alright? Why do you always have to push? You don’t get it. I don’t want to talk!”

The words stung more than they should have, especially because you knew he didn’t mean them. But the suddenness of his outburst, the harshness in his voice, felt like a punch to the chest.

You recoiled slightly, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I—I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you…”

But it was too late. The floodgates inside you had opened. Your chest tightened, and the familiar, suffocating feeling of panic began to creep in. Your breath quickened, becoming shallow and erratic, and the room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick.

Chan, who had turned away in frustration, didn’t notice at first. But as the seconds passed, he heard it—your ragged breaths, the soft, choked sobs that you were desperately trying to hold back. He glanced over, his anger fading as quickly as it had come when he saw the state you were in.

Your hands were trembling, your eyes wide with fear, unfocused, and your breath was coming in short, panicked gasps. He had never seen you like this before, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks: he had caused this. He had hurt you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, immediately softening, his own heart clenching with guilt. “Oh God, no…”

He moved closer, gently taking your hands in his. You flinched slightly at the touch, still lost in the grip of the panic attack, but he didn’t let go.

“Hey, hey,” his voice was low, soothing, filled with regret. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it.”

You couldn’t respond. Your mind was racing too fast, your body betraying you as you struggled to catch your breath. But Chan didn’t leave. He stayed there, his hands enveloping yours, grounding you.

“Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe,” he coaxed gently, his own breathing slowing as he demonstrated for you. “In… and out. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

His voice was soft, a constant anchor in the storm swirling inside you. He repeated the words over and over, never rushing you, never leaving your side.

“In and out. You’re doing so good,” he whispered, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “I’m so sorry. Please… I’m so sorry.”

Eventually, the tightness in your chest began to ease, and your breathing, though shaky, started to even out. Your grip on his hand tightened, as if you were afraid to let go, and he responded by pulling you closer, enveloping you in a protective embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out, your voice small and broken. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” he interrupted quickly, holding you tighter. “Don’t apologize. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled. I—I just had a bad day, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You buried your face in his chest, letting the last of the tremors fade as you breathed in his familiar scent, the one that always brought you comfort.

“I didn’t mean to push,” you whispered. “I just wanted to help.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And you didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I hate that I made you feel like this.”

You could hear the guilt in his voice, the way it cracked with emotion, and it broke your heart. You knew he never meant to hurt you, and seeing how much it affected him now made it all the more clear.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, though your voice wavered. “I just… I was scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with regret. “I promise, I’ll never let that happen again. I’ll be better.”

There was silence for a moment as you both took in the gravity of what had just happened. But the weight of it slowly lifted as he continued to hold you, grounding you with his presence, his warmth.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

You nodded against him, feeling the sincerity in his words. And though the panic had left you drained, there was a sense of relief in knowing that he was there, that he understood.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

And as you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the storm inside you calmed, replaced by the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

[itneverendshere]

Can we get something along the lines of bartender reader maybe working at the country club and some guy has been hitting on her all night, he’s older, creepy, won’t leave her alone, getting drunker as the night goes on and she’s just trying to ignore him but she has to go to the supply closet later in the night or steps away for whatever reason and the guy follows her? reader is gone for too long and Rafe notices, finds her and stops the guy?? I need protective Rafe over reader 😍

ugh i hate creeps, literally felt ill writing this but for the sake of the story i did, bc it's unfortunately very common. thank you for the request lovely 🫶🏻🫂

throw away my faith just to keep you safe - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: unwanted advances; there's a creep.

It was just another Friday night, the usual crowd of kooks indulging in their weekly rituals of wealth and excess. For you, it was just another night behind the bar.

Wiping down the counter, you glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

Your shift was crawling toward the finish line, thank god, but the crowd promised at least another hour of pouring drinks and faking smiles. Not that you minded by this point — the tips were decent, and the job wasn’t hard. But sometimes, the clientele was more than you could handle.

“Another round for me, sweetheart?”

You turned toward the voice and visibly shuddered at the sight. There he was again — the guy who had been hitting on you all night, like a stupid plague. He was in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and a sleazy smile. He’d been getting progressively drunker, his advances getting bolder with every drink. You didn’t get paid enough to put up with this shit, but you also didn’t feel like getting fired for slapping someone across the face. 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep it professional. “Sure. Another whiskey?”

He leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Y’know you’ve got the prettiest eyes. Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit? I’m sure the bar can survive without you.”

Internally, you cringed. Outwardly, you kept your smile, though it was starting to drop. “I’m working,” You replied, “I can’t.”

He grinned like he hadn’t heard you — or maybe he just didn’t care. “C’mon, you can take a break. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You’d rather shoot yourself in the face. You turned away, busying yourself with grabbing his drink. You didn’t want to make a scene. You could handle this. You’d dealt with drunk idiots your entire life.

But something about him was different — he wasn’t just annoying, he was persistent, and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Rafe had checked in on you earlier, but you hadn’t seen him for a while. Normally, you could handle yourself, but tonight you really wished he was closer.

The guy’s drink slammed down in front of him harder than you intended, and you forced another smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes dragging down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. “You’re too pretty to be stuck behind a bar. Bet you could find someone to take care of you, huh?”

You barely held back an eye roll as you turned away from him, grabbing the rag to wipe down the counter again just to have something to do with your hands. 

The guy cleared his throat, leaning even closer over the bar. “How much longer do you think you’ll be working, sweetheart?” His voice was low, like he was trying to make it intimate, but it just made your stomach turn. “I’ll wait for you. We could have a little fun after you’re off. I know you’re not gonna go home alone tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But he did.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be like that,” he said, his grin widening like you were joking with him. “I know girls like you — all tough on the outside, but once someone gives you a little attention, you melt.”

You slammed the rag down, turning toward him, patience leaving your body. “Look, I’ve told you, I’m working. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not interested. So how about you just take your drink and leave me alone?”

His smile dropped for a moment, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You don’t gotta be a bitch about it, sweetheart,” he slurred, clearly not backing down. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Before you could answer — or reach for the nearest object to throw at him — a familiar voice cut in from behind.

“How about you fuck off before I make you?”

You knew that tone. It was the one he used right before things escalated. Fast. You looked over to see Rafe standing just behind the bar, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto the guy in front of you.

His posture was tense, fists curled at his sides like he was holding himself back from jumping at the guy. “Rafe,” you called softly, reaching out to grab his arm. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off the man. “No, you don’t,” he muttered, stepping closer to the bar, “This guy’s been harassing you all night. He needs to leave.”

He looked Rafe up and down, taking in the expensive clothes, the look in his eyes, and the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “No need to get all worked up. I was just talking to her.”

“You weren’t just talking,” Rafe snapped, “You were being a creep, and now you’re gonna get the fuck out of here.”

The guy opened his mouth to argue, but Rafe took another step forward, and whatever argument he had died in his throat. He grabbed his drink from the bar, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch before he turned and stumbled away toward the door.

Once he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Rafe turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You okay, baby?”

You nodded, but your hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

He stepped closer, “You shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that.”

“I can handle it,” you replied, “But I’m glad you were here.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb tracing soft circles against the skin in your arm. “I don’t want you handling it. I don’t want you dealing with that shit at all.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “It’s part of the job sometimes.”

“Not when I’m around, it’s not,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. 

You grinned, your fingers brushing over his collarbone as you tilted your head up to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours and when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ll be fine for the rest of the night,” you whispered. “Promise.”

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening around you just a little. “I know. I just hate seeing shit like that happen to you.”

“Me too, baby.” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “But at least the tips are good, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would focus on the tips after that.”

“Gotta find the silver lining somewhere,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. This time it was deeper, and for a moment, you almost forgot you were still at work. When he pulled away, he glanced back toward the bar. “You need me to stick around?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I think your little display of alpha male behavior probably scared off any other creeps for the night.”

He smirked, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Good.”

“Go hang out with the guys,” you said, patting his chest. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

He hesitated for a second, his hand still resting on your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go, but finally, he nodded. “Alright. But if I see him again…”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “And if you do, I’ll let you know.”

He gave you one last kiss, then reluctantly let you go and headed back toward his friends. You watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself before you turned back to the bar.

Forty minutes later, Rafe stood by the side of his truck, fingers drumming against the hood as he waited for you to finish up. He hated this place most days — hated how these old, rich assholes thought they could treat you like you were some kind of prize they could buy. It had taken everything in him not to knock that guy out earlier, but he knew you didn’t want a scene. Still, he’d been fuming ever since.

You’d be out any minute now, and the two of you would go to his house. He just needed to chill. But then, five minutes passed… then six… and a knot started to form in his stomach. You were never this late getting out, and you’d told him you’d be quick tonight.

Where the were you? He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Rafe pushed off the truck and started pacing, his eyes glancing between the front entrance and the locker room doors around the back. He knew you were still inside, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. His instincts were screaming at him now. After another minute, he couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck this.

He strode back inside and headed straight for the back hall that led to the locker room where you always changed after work. As he turned the corner, his heart stopped. There, right outside the locker room door, was the same asshole from earlier — the drunk creep who’d been hitting on you. His greasy hand was on the door, shoving it open, trying to force his way inside.

Rafe saw red.

Without thinking, he surged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guy didn’t have time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his jaw, his head snapping back against the wall. He stumbled, eyes wide with shock as he tried to raise his hands in defense, but Rafe didn’t give him a chance.

“You thought you could get away with that shit?!” He growled as he shoved him again, pinning him hard against the wall. The guy let out a choked gasp, his face going pale as he tried to squirm out of Rafe’s grip.

“I-I wasn’t—” the guy sputtered, his words slurred from the blow.

Rafe didn’t want to hear it. He threw another punch, this one harder than the first, his knuckles splitting against the guy’s cheekbone. All he could see was you — you, behind that door, completely unaware that this piece of shit had been about to force his way in.

“Rafe!” 

He stopped his fist still clenched, inches from the guy’s face. He turned his head just enough to see you standing in the doorway, dressed in your usual jeans and a hoodie, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Baby,” you said stepping forward. “It’s okay. He’s not worth it.”

But Rafe couldn’t let it go — couldn’t let the image of this creep forcing his way into the room where you were out of his head. The thought made him sick. It made him want to tear this him apart piece by piece.

“I should fucking kill you,” Rafe spat, his voice trembling  as he pressed the guy harder against the wall.

“Please. I’m okay. He didn’t get in.”

It took every little ounce of self-control Rafe had, but he finally let the guy go, stepping back just enough for the asshole to crumple to the floor, groaning in pain.

“You come near her again, I swear to god…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The guy knew exactly what he meant.

The creep scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding face as he stumbled down the hallway, mumbling something that Rafe didn’t bother to listen to. His eyes were on you now, his breathing heavy as the adrenaline started to wear off.

His hands were still shaking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, though your eyes were still wide, “I’m fine. He didn’t get in, baby. You stopped him.”

Rafe exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to breathe properly. The thought of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t come inside when he did made him want to throw up. “I should’ve been here,” he muttered “I should’ve been right here with you.”

“Rafe, you can’t be with me every second,” you stepped closer to him. “You did the right thing. I’m okay. Really.”

But he wasn’t convinced. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, needing to know for sure that you were safe. His grip was tight, maybe too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “I swear to god, if he’d touched you…”

“He didn’t,” you murmured, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, “He's not going to."

He held you like that for a long moment, his heart still beating too fast, his mind conjuring everything that could’ve gone wrong tonight.

 “No more working late nights here.”

You pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Rafe—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “This place is full of creeps, and I’m not letting you deal with that shit anymore.”

You sighed, “We’ll talk about it.”

He didn’t argue — not now, at least. But as far as he was concerned, you weren’t coming back here. Not without him.

“What the hell is going on back here?”

You both turned to see Greg, your manager, striding down the hallway. He looked between you and Rafe, his eyes landing on the dented wall and the bloodied handprint smeared across it.

“Seriously, what the hell happened?” He barked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is there a guy running out of here with blood on his face?"

Rafe stiffened beside you.

He didn’t like Greg — never had. In his mind, he was lazy, incompetent, and more interested in playing golf with the country club regulars than actually managing anything. You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he beat you to it.

“Why don’t you fix your goddamn locks, Greg?” Rafe snapped, stepping forward, “If you weren’t so busy kissing everyone’s ass, maybe you’d realize that your employees aren’t fucking safe here.”

Greg blinked, “What are you talking about?”

Rafe pointed to the locker room door, where the knob was still hanging loosely, as if the creep had almost succeeded in breaking it off.

“Your fucking locker room door doesn’t lock. That asshole was trying to force his way in while she was changing. What the hell are you running here, man?”

Greg glanced at the door, then back at you, his face paling slightly but instead of apologizing, or even showing the slightest bit of concern, he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Look, I didn’t know—”

“Yeah, because you don’t pay attention to shit!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising. “You think you can just let her and the other girls fend for themselves? Is this the kind of place you’re running?”

“Rafe,” you murmured, your hand on his arm again, trying to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

But Rafe was far from calm. His hands were shaking, and his eyes locked onto Greg. “No, it’s not fucking okay. This shit keeps happening, and it’s gonna get someone hurt.”

Greg took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’ll… I’ll talk to the maintenance guys, alright? We’ll fix the lock.”

“Not good enough,” Rafe snapped, “You better fix it tonight. Because if this happens again, I’m not gonna be so nice next time.”

Greg swallowed hard, clearly shaken. “Y-Yeah. Fine. We��ll take care of it.”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. “You better.” 

He turned his back on Greg without another word, grabbing your hand again as he led you toward the exit. His grip was tight, and once you were outside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

“Rafe,” you said softly, pulling him to a stop as you stood by the side of his truck. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply as he looked down at you. “I can’t stand that guy,” he muttered. “He doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else working here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. For a moment, he just held you like that, the tension slowly ebbing away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” he murmured against your hair.

“I know. Let’s just go home.”

Rafe looked down at you, his brow furrowing slightly, “I’m gonna get you a gun.”

"A gun?"

"Yeah," Rafe said seriously, his grip tightening on your waist. “You need to be able to protect yourself if I'm not around."

"Baby, that's... kind of extreme," you tried to make him understand, "I don’t need a gun." You placed your hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing slow circles "I know you're worried. I know you don’t want me dealing with stuff like this, but a gun isn’t the answer."

He sighed, “I just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I will be. I promise.”

He held you close for a few more seconds, his forehead resting against yours. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. “Okay. No gun. For now.”

You smiled faintly, relieved. “Thank you.”

“But if it appens again, I’ll shoot him myself.”

“Okay, James Bond, get in the car.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Spoiling You

G/N. Soft/Fluffy. Masterlists

"I'm craving-"

Sentence not even finished, Gun has already paused his game and stood up. He hears the object of your heart and stomach's desire, plants a kiss softly atop your head then strides out the door before you even realise.

"...Huh?"

An hour later, a bag full of delicious goodness is deposited in your hands.

.

.

Frankly, what you want, you always get. Gun spoils you.

Trouble is, even if you briefly mention you like something in passing, he would still commit it to memory and it would be in your possession the next day, if not within the hour.

That man takes things to extremes. In fact, sometimes even a passing glance is enough for him to open his wallet and spoil you rotten.

"I feel bad," you tell him, after you find an entire new seasonal wardrobe awaiting on your bed, gift wrapped and bagged.

You had forgotten that an outfit had caught your attention yesterday and your eyes flickered over to the store window.

Gun didn't.

"Don't."

"You spent so much on me though,"

"I have it." Gun says, and you almost swoon from his very much understated flex.

A thought pops into your mind-

"... Is it a kink of yours?"

"What?"

"Being a sugar daddy. Sorta."

Gun pulls a face, "No." 

A predatory glint appears in his eyes and a smirk spreads. "-But I can show you some more of mine."

.

.

If the way he treats you is any indication of his past relationships, you're surprised he's not completely broke.

Actually, maybe what is more surprising is your own self constraint. Your morals.

If you had asked your past self what you would do if you were presented with what appears to be unlimited funds, and you could buy anything you wanted, then you thought you would go fucking hard.

However. Along with gratitude, you feel a pang of guilt despite Gun’s continuous reassurance and unexpected patience.

But gradually, over time, the guilt lifts as you learn this is one of his love languages. A combination of gift giving and acts of service that makes your heart completely melt.

The only difference between him and the average person is that what he considers a normal amount to spend on you is more than some people's entire annual salary.

What's worse is that he never particularly wants anything.  Honestly, he's a complete bitch to buy gifts for. It's almost impossible for you to reciprocate his generosity.

In return though, all Gun ever wants is your time and loyalty. You happily give both in spades. 

(And you pour your efforts into handmade presents instead.)

.

.

"Did you always go this crazy in past relationships?" You ask, gesturing at more gifts you're surrounded by. 

You talked about your favourite band, and the next day boxes and boxes of official merch, their entire discography - signed, was handed over to you.

"Past relationships?" Gun asks, head tilted, single brow arched. As if your question wasn't straight forward enough.

"Y'know. People that you've dated before."

"I haven't dated anyone before." 

Oh?

Gun says that like it's no big deal. Like it isn't the sweetest fact ever. Like... How on earth is that even possible?!

"For real?!"

He nods, and god. You fling yourself at him.

There's no breath of surprise, no stumbling. Bless his unhumanly fast reflexes. His arms are already open, he's poised, steady and unwavering, like he's always ready to catch you.

You make indecipherable noises. You tell him he is adorable and Gun protests that he is not. That just makes him more so.

You're his first relationship, and he doesn't tell you this today, but he also intends for you to be his only one too.

[simonbrain]

cw: rough sex between simon and johnny, very brief knifeplay, a little blood, reader doesn't actually have sex with them lol soz

you've always been a little soft. from the pliable skin of your body to the big, tender heart in your chest, it's no wonder you caught simon's attention.

you were like a deer in his presence at first. skittish and constantly in fight-or-flight mode, curtly cutting every interaction with him short just so you didn't have to face the beast that resided beneath the mask, the one that would surely scoop you up and feast upon your plush flesh.

although you had your reservations, the person who really reeled you in was his sergeant. sweet, charismatic johnny, easing you into the lion's den with praises of his lieutenant, promising the big bastard isnae tha' bad and that he just needs some patience and understanding.

you gave him the benefit of the doubt and reluctantly lowered your guard, allowing not only him but simon as well to see the soft, gooey centre that you kept hidden. fleeting conversations became longer and more playful, a large, warm hand from either of them on your back was more frequent, and the pet names fired your way were relentless, often leaving your panties sticky and uncomfortable.

they weren't only a part of your work life; they came home with you sometimes for a good feed and a nice, warm bed to sink into, forcing you to sit on the couch and pick a movie for the night at the end of dinner. whenever you called out if they needed help with packing away the food or doing the dishes, the looks they gave you were enough to make you turn your head back to the tv. it always ended with simon carrying you to bed while johnny shuffled right behind, wrapped up in the blanket. the mornings were always harder to get through whenever they stayed over because you just wanted to stay cocooned between their warm bodies, so broad and protective, but all three of you had duties to attend to. despite starting later than they do, the few hours of sleep you lose are worth it.

the longer you spend time with them, the more you're beginning to realise that your perception of them is far from the reality. simon is so... gentle with you; strange as it is describing him as such, there's no other way to put it. the way he looks at you, speaks to you, and keeps his desire on a short leash, only because he doesn't want to overstep your boundaries, has your heart fluttering at how much of a gentleman he is. you don't shy away from him anymore; you drink up each moment you can be near him, clinging to him and even rewarding him with a kiss in an empty corridor, quietly sulking when he stops your naughty hands from sliding down his body to tug at his belt.

"not yet, sweet'art," he hums, the sound so gravelly it makes your thighs squeeze together. "just wait a little longer, aye? johnny and i will take care o'you, i know he's dyin' for it."

god, speaking of johnny, ever since you've gotten closer, he's nothing but a koala, constantly looming over you when he's not busy and feeding you praises for basic fucking tasks that should not be getting praised. he's so much rougher than you thought, and there shouldn't be heat licking up your spine every time his hands are on you, manhandling you into a storage closet so he can consume your very soul, whining into your mouth about how badly he and simon have wanted you, but you let it happen anyway. you let him slip his hand down between the layers of clothes to rub two fingers on your puffy clit until you're mewling into his mouth and spilling all over your already soaked underwear. you really should start bringing extra with you because you're getting sick of how wet you get just from being in their vicinity.

it's when simon comes back from one hell of a failed mission that you finally get a taste of him. except he goes through johnny first, and you have never been so alarmed but so turned on at the same time in your entire life.

he's so cruel, so fucking mean in the way he gropes and bites and fucks into johnny, who takes it all with a snarl on his face. his cock still drips and throbs even when he's sobbing out angry curses, and simon laughs at his pathetic attempts at defending himself, as if it was enough to deter simon's ugly, rough love, the type of love that he had been hiding from you.

you sit on the edge of the bed, a hand compressed tightly between your thighs as you watch them on the floor because simon wasn't even patient enough to get him on the bed, pushing his boy down to the ground and taking what's his. johnny howls and squirms, growling at simon and earning himself a harsh slap in the face, the hand planted tightly in his hair not discouraging him from ceasing his fight.

you should be scared. you should be turning away, feeling sick from watching how animalistic they are, how simon pounds into johnny with no remorse. you shouldn't be admiring the tears welling up in johnny's eyes or the way he lets out pained moans. you shouldn't be wishing it was you under simon instead, getting your hair pulled and being left with no choice but to take the fat cock you've been daydreaming about. you definitely should not have let out a soft little whimper at the sight of simon whipping out a knife from his thigh holster to press it against johnny's throat, drawing a bit of blood because his thrusts are that rough.

when johnny only whines, his defiance dying down and being replaced with something softer, more compliant, simon rewards him with a nasty, sloppy kiss, a hand replacing the blade and wrapping around his throat, palm pressed up against the new wound.

it's fucking torture watching them, and you know they don't mean to tease with how rough they are, unknowing of how much it's getting you worked up, but you're starting to get impatient. you want to experience that, too; you want them to taint you. you want to be treated like nothing more than an unruly little mutt, being split apart on cock until you pass out from exhaustion, holes loose and wet and pliant. you want to fight only to be forced into submission—fuck, the thought is making your mouth run dry.

you're surprised at how wet you are when you shuffle on the bed, the feeling of soaked panties clinging to your cunt familiar but not welcome, especially with how many you've ruined. you can't wait for your turn, even if they definitely will be softer than this with you.

simon forces a violent orgasm out of johnny, a hand wrapped tight around his poor cock, moans and whines for more spilling from his bruised lips. if you weren't so dizzy, so needy, you would have gawked at his desperate pleas.

it's when simon's gaze flickers over to you that you finally decide to do something about the persistent throb between your thighs. you move back onto the bed more comfortably and slide your shorts off, slight embarrassment warming your cheeks as you catch sight of your arousal sticking from your pussy to your panties. you can tell that simon isn't done working his frustrations out, so you settle for using your fingers, content to rub yourself until they're done and ready to take care of you. maybe you should tell them about the newest discovery you've made about yourself later and see how well they handle keeping their hunger muzzled.

[mythblossoms]

cherry wine

pairing: sylus x gn!reader

content: mutual pining, slight angst, music used as metaphor (poorly), pre-relationship, hand holding and dancing

a/n: sometimes a specific scene sticks in your head and you have to write something around that only. i also just love the sound of a cello ;-;

wc: ~1.4k

Music was honest. It spoke plainly about its desires and was vulnerable. The melodies openly conveyed emotions and stories, imploring those who heard to succumb to their passions. There is a beauty in patterns and themes laced between the harmonies.

At the least, that’s what Sylus told himself as he leaned casually against the gilded pillars decorating the gala floor. 

Your invitation to some musicians gala hadn’t been unexpected - the connections and intel privy to him had become a bonus to your missions, and Sylus was happy to oblige. But your openness, that was new. Your willingness to reach out and discuss tactics and invite him as something more, more than a source of knowledge at least.

He was happy to watch you work, your acting skills so finely honed now as you smiled coyly at other guests perched at the bar - your eyes, in contrast, sharply focused on your surroundings. You were an unknown force in your element, poised to strike. 

The musicians began their arrangement, the opening notes notifying the guests of the story they aimed to tell.

The aching thrum of the cello, the pining glide of the violin - woven together to create a song of want, grounded by a repetition of keys played softly on the piano. Sylus knows the story that inspired the peaks and valleys of this piece - the undying devotion of some underworld god to his spring bride, the names long forgotten but the sentiments still clinging to the notes. For you, I will wait. For you, I will suffer time and space. 

His eyes find your form across the gala floor. You, so warmly illuminated by the overhead chandeliers, cherry wine in hand and the pomegranate stain of your lips. Would you also eat the seeds — if offered? Would you stay — if asked? Your eyes flicked to his, offering a near imperceptible nod in his direction. For you, he would ask again and again.

The low lament of the cello hums through the room as your eyes leave his, searching the faces of each passerby as you swirl the untouched wine. Reasonably, Sylus knows that once you’ve completed your mission, you’ll be gone again. And he will wait again, until he is needed, until you are ready. The constant refrain his own frustrating internal melody - wait, wait, wait — again, again, again. He did not have the patience of some ancient god, and the yearning notes of the song left a sour taste in his mouth. 

As the music swells, melodic and mournful, Sylus finds himself pulled to you. He moves across the floor slowly, yet purposefully, eyes never leaving your face. 

“Dance with me.” Sylus offers his open palm to you, an open invitation, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slight smirk. 

You swirl the wine again in your glass, watching as the dark red liquid briefly coats the glass before settling. “Do you always ask people to dance to tragic love songs?” you mused, placing the glass on the bar. It’s easy, like this, pretending to be two strangers drawn together by the fervor of the strings. The hunger of their pitch echoing the feeling in your chest. 

“There’s a - sincerity to tragedy that makes it more memorable.” And for a moment, he seems far away, some distant memory clinging to the edge of his vision before he’s raising an eyebrow at you again.

“People will think you’re some sort of brooding crow.” You tease and gently take his hand, letting him guide you to the near empty floor.

“Do you think I care what people think, sweetheart?” Sylus smirks again, lightly holding your hand in one and splaying his other across your lower back. He pulls you in closer, chests nearly touching as he leans in closely. “I’m more interested in what your eyes see.” His warm breath sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. 

Logically, you think he means finding your target. Your vantage point from the center of the room certainly allows you to see more faces than you could from your singular place at the bar. And yet - the gentle way he holds your hand, the warm touch on your lower back, the softness in his eyes as he searches yours - you consider the outcomes of being bold, of being honest. 

Your hand flattens against the base of his neck, a thrum of energy flowing between the closeness of your bodies - your eyes fixed solely on his. “I’m not sure I’ve seen enough to make an informed decision.” The air stills around you, time seemingly frozen in this moment as the energy between you intensifies, the magnification of something bigger than both of you. “I’ll keep looking though.” 

The far away look returns to his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly - unexpressed sentiments hanging in the air. The instruments die down, the lack of sound somehow deafening in your ears, and Sylus slowly releases your waist - breaking the chord that hummed so loudly between you. 

Before you can step away, he captures your hand in both of his. Delicately, he lifts your palm to his lips and presses a light kiss in the center, holding your gaze before fully releasing you. Your palm tingles with warmth as you squeeze your hand shut, tucking it at your side. “Careful - don’t look too far or you may lose sight of what you're searching for.” His words feel ambiguous, leaving you sifting through context and emotion, the two swirling together as he steps closer. “On your right,” he murmurs before casually walking towards the exit. 

This is why pretending is easier, why leaving is easier - even when you knew you would come back. Staying meant confronting whatever ambiguity grasped onto each look or word between you and Sylus. Leaving granted space, a moment to breathe. Exhaling, you locked onto the man on your right, surrounded by others clinging onto whatever syrupy words he spun. Leaving meant gaining some control of this situation.

Sylus did not have the patience of long forgotten gods, but he did have their petulance. Standing at the end of the long hallway, shrouded in the shadow of a pillar - surely this is the type of brooding expected of a deity. 

Twice you managed to catch him in a moment. Twice, a fleeting sense of clarity that was quickly broken once he realized his surroundings and the scenario you both were in. You had truly looked at him this time, as if you could see each miniscule crack that deepened each moment spent together then apart. He felt a seismic shift beneath layers of protection he had spent so many years building up. The notes of the cello reverberated through Sylus’s mind, blending with his internal symphony - wait, wait, wait, for you. He had no clear path forward to you, no seeds to offer you - only the notes of song urging patience.

Footsteps interrupted his ruminations, the sound resonating down the hall moving closer to him. He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you, the familiar determination underneath the light sound - letting you come to him. “Caught what you needed, kitten?” The teasing nickname falls easily from his lips, but he’s searching your face again - looking for something, anything to flicker across your face. Your determined mask remains in place and you’re barely slowing down as you pass him — leaving again.

“His notes were…off-key,” you state plainly, stepping out into the cool night air. Sylus huffs a laugh in response, bad intel. “But not a total loss, he had some interesting friends. Guess I’ll have to look closer.” There’s a subtle curtness to your voice, dismissive even, as you navigate the city street - Sylus still trailing behind.

“Be patient,” he almost bites out, the irony not lost on him. “True motives always reveal themselves, in the end.” 

You stopped abruptly in front of him, turning to face him with a boldness he’d grown fond of. “And if I’m not patient?” Your words are clear, daring to hold his gaze. “What if I’m impulsive?”

“The power is in your hands then - you have to decide how you want to proceed.” Another dance, another song — laced with hidden meanings. Your eyes soften slightly - were you playing the same tune? Did you understand the notes played under his words? Sylus extends his hand to you again, palm open and still. “For now, let’s get you home.”

You smile lightly, the corners of your lips slightly turned up. “It’s early for you - isn’t it?” You take his hand, gently lacing your fingers with his. “Why don’t you take me on the scenic route?” 

[kil-luna]

being in a relationship with bakugou katsuki means being used to his constant dirty talking. yes; he talks absolute FILTH. however, this is really no surprise to anyone who actually knows him. he has always been a kid who never filtered his words. how much more when he grew up?

it got much worse, of course. especially since he knew you secretly liked it.

sometimes he doesn't even have to try. it just comes out without a warning.

"babe, we aren't buying that table. it would hurt your damn back when i fuck you in it. i'd rather have you screaming in pleasure than in pain, yeah?"

"this mission is taking so long. these damn villains are testing my patience. god, i wanna be inside you already."

"you look so good in that dress babe, so damn fuckable. "

"i don't like the flavor, its even fucking sweeter than your pussy."

"good girl. the best slut for the number one hero. "

[love-toxin]

THANK U. gush i absolutely will! and ill probably have to rewatch it now. but oh my god. the way eric would probably not want to have sex for the longest time even after u eventually get together (which would take a LONG TIME TOO!) patience is fr key. like probably out of guilt and SHAME but also cause he’s a gentleman. blushes cutely……. like i hadn’t even thought about that because hes an actual Good person who knows that love/relationships is about more than fucking but….. 🫣🫣 damn. need him fr

oh he'd be SO conflicted about it mrrrrrrghhh!!!! im going OFF-

love the thought of it eating him up inside. it takes so long for him to even speak to you, longer to get to know you, and when you fall for him like he has for you it suddenly feels like he's getting in too deep. it's not that he realized he doesn't love you because he does, he's got it bad for you, but he feels so guilty about even thinking of you in that light. you have an innocence about you that he's long lost and to imagine ripping that away from you, regardless of whether you're virginal or not, just makes him sick to his stomach. and he doesn't want to push you. god, that's the last thing he would ever want to do.

truthfully, he figured that since his body is immortal now, he wouldn't get those urges that he'd get as a mortal. he doesn't need to eat, or drink, or sleep, so it stands to reason that he wouldn't feel the need for sex either. it almost guts him when he realizes he does. when you brush against him or purse your lips or just say something a little off-colour, and he feels a tightening in his groin and a flush up his neck. he practically speeds out of your house in a panic the first time he feels it because he doesn't know what to do about it--how he's supposed to act around you when you don't have that kind of relationship yet. acknowledge it, ignore it, repress it, there's plenty of options but no real solutions.

what if he hurts you? what if you feel guilted into doing things with him, just because of his circumstances? just because you care for him so much? or what if he hurts you physically, because he still doesn't have the perfect grasp on his own, inhuman strength?

but then, when the time comes where you bring it up, Eric sinks down to his knees to look up at you. those brown eyes just radiate warmth, love, and he gently ghosts his palms over your hips with the most adoring "I love you" you've ever heard off his lips. if you want it, he wants you to direct it--you don't have to take control, but you get to decide each and every movement he makes. when he touches you, even for a fleeting moment, you have all the power.

Eric starts off slow. baby steps. first it's a few touches to your neck, kisses that feel hungry as he mouths at the delicate skin, but only faintly graze his teeth over a thin barrier. he squeezes your thigh one day as you're driving and retracts his hand almost instantly, he thinks he grabbed too hard--but you slowly pull his fingers back to rest there and his worries are soothed at once, though his heart jumps up into his throat. although progress is steady he still has flashbacks and night terrors sometimes, and they're almost always so vivid he wakes up in a cold sweat or has to stop in his tracks and just breathe. the people who hurt Shelly are dead. he's here to protect you now. you're safe. nothing bad is going to happen to you. he has to repeat that mantra to himself to calm himself down, and sometimes you have to come and remind him as you hold his hand and hug his head to your chest.

it isn't until one night, when you've been nosing his cheek and kissing him more than usual, that Eric starts touching you back. normally he would lay back and enjoy your attention because it's a sort of ritual for you before bed, but this time he just feels it. it's time. he can do it. as he climbs over you you reassure him that if anything happens--if you change your mind, or if he realizes he's not actually ready--you can stop, no questions asked, and just cuddle. but he can sense in the tightness of his body that it really is time, and he really is ready for this. he's neglected you for too long but he's recovering from the guilt of that, now it's just the thrum of excitement humming through his body as he strips yours down for the first time.

as strange as it is, he's happy that he doesn't see Shelly when he looks at you anymore. he used to see her face in flashes when he was close to you, and the shame had burned him alive for so long. she was his love and his everything, his bride that never was, and despite his growing feelings for you he'd struggled not to see her in everything you did. it wasn't fair to you and it was part of the reason he stayed in the shadows for so long, keeping an eye on you but not getting close. it's why he planned to never speak to you in person and simply watch over you like a shadow, from the shadows, where he belonged. it was only once he'd seen your personality shine through over the months that his view of you started to separate, and now after long conversations and your endless patience he can fully put his heart into you without constantly thinking of Shelly in the back of his mind. he recalls when you brought him to her grave with flowers, your smile so wide and sweet when you asked him questions about her, wanting to keep her memory alive for him--and it drives him down between your legs, those pent-up feelings lashing out with his tongue as he finally brings himself to indulge.

you're just so beautiful, so good to him, so....alive. your kindness may be a weakness but it fills him with strength, it makes him crave you in a way that has your hips rising off the bed and your thighs squeezing his ears, muffling out all sound except your moans and the wet shlick of his tongue inside you. your fingers threading through his hair drives him wild. if his mouth wasn't full he'd plead with you to pull it. but you don't have to have everything lined up right now, it's just about exploring--although he'll have a lot more of your body mapped out than you will of his, because he can't help it, you just taste so good. he may not need to be satiated in body anymore, but something in your arousal feeds him as if it's the fount of his power itself. like he was drinking from the fountain of youth, hidden all this time between your angelic legs.

he won't even get into penetration tonight; you'll be too exhausted once he's finished the banquet between your hips, and he'll barely know his own name aside from you screaming it. neither of you are really concerned with it though, because this is your love, and nobody else's. he's almost too sensitive to touch when he crawls up beside you and you reach down, fingertips lightly grazing his stomach until you brush against him and he hisses through his teeth. his instinct is to draw your hand away but he hides his face in your neck when you grip him, clutching on to you for dear life to keep from squirming away from the attention. he wants it. he just can't look you in the eyes while he takes it, because he knows it's been so long and you smell so good that he'll bust before he even knows it's happening.

but it's easy to tell where he's at by the twitches in your palm, the little jets of clear liquid that startle you as they splash on your hand. he seems to breathe with every pulse of his cock as it spasms for dear life, aching for your fingers that stroke him with such effortless adoration. his hold on you grows harder and firmer the more you give him that attention, and with an especially slick twist he's buckling, humping your grip with soft gasps, mumbling nonsense into your neck until he finally hits his stride and shoots his load all over your pretty belly.

it takes him awhile--a long, great while--to eventually work up the strength to lift his head and look. his work is messy and unprofessional, emblematic of a man barely held together by threads, and yet you look back at him with such sweetness he can't help feeling more fragile in your arms.

"I love you." you whisper into his ear, brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead and tucking it behind. and for the first time, the first time in a very, very long time, Eric finally believes it.

[rose-pearls]

Hi! Could request something for clarisse x reader? Where reader is daughter of persphone and she’s sweet and kind but also strong and intimidating and can stand for herself and that’s what clarisse likes abt her

Hi! Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303 (open)

Clarisse loved her girlfriend, but she could sometimes be too kind towards others, most specifically towards a certain Poseidon’s son.

“I don’t understand why you dislike him so much, he is a sweetheart,” you tell her one evening, wrapped in her arms as she tries not to fall asleep as your fingers brush against her skin delicately.

“I just don’t like him, he brings too much attention to himself,” she says, feeling a bit annoyed at the turn of conversation but as she smells the delicate smell of honey blossom, she feels herself calm down. Every child of Persephone had a certain smell of flowers that followed them, but it could change due to their mood. The only flowers she could pinpoint in yours were honey blossom and roses when Clarisse managed to make you blush or when you got angry.

“He doesn’t do it on purpose, just give him a chance,” Clarisse was happy when you then turned the conversation to another topic, not wanting to spend more time than necessary on the stupid topic of Percy Jackson. 

Everyone knew you were kind; it was something that was known around camp when you helped others around, but it was also known that you were Clarisse’s girlfriend and that you were fiercely loyal to the Ares daughter. Some people saw it as a flaw, your unwavering loyalty, but she only saw it as proof of your love.

Kindness was often seen as a weakness, but Clarisse could make a whole book about you where she proves that entire point wrong, you had proven that to her when playing capture the flag. You weren’t just as sweet as a blossom but just as deadly as a rose, she had seen you throw a dagger at the head of a camper, only slightly cutting the skin of his cheeks.

“Try to take the flag again and this time I won’t avoid cutting your face entirely,” the sweet daughter of Persephone had said with a tone that would make even the god’s tremble. And that is how Clarisse had fallen for you; hard and fast as she saw you cutting through the other team as if you were just helping the Demeter kids growing flowers. 

She had been waiting patiently, or not as she had no patience, for Chiron to reveal who would be on which team in Capture the flag. Rules had been made at one point that the Athena and Ares cabin would always be on opposite teams as they couldn’t get along, just like their parents. But the other cabins were often mixed up between the two.

“I can’t believe he would do this to me!”, Clarisse screams, and a couple of children scramble away at the angry daughter of Ares.

“Clarisse?”, you ask softly, making her slightly relax as she smells the comforting smell of flowers. You seem worried, hands on your hips as you look at her with wide eyes.

“Chiron put you on Annabeth’s team, I’m sure that little devil is really happy right now,” she murmurs the last part, crunching the paper in her hand as she begins to plot her revenge.

Your hand softly covers her, and she feels your fingers slowly stroke a pattern on her hand to try and get her to loosen her grip on the paper. When she finally does let go you take a look at the paper, humming to yourself as you see the teams.

“You have the Hermes cabin, which means you have Luke. Not all is lost my love,” Clarisse can’t help but blush at the nickname, you didn’t say it that often but when you did it would turn her into a blushing mess, just like right now.

“I would rather have you then Castellan and the other pipsqueaks,” she says, going back to her grumbling but she looks at you as you laugh softly.

“Common, it will all be alright. This is good, now you can already mentally prepare yourself to lose,” Clarisse raises her eyebrows at your statement, a smirk can be found on your glossed lips.

“Oh, really? And what you think that you are going to win this?” she whispers as she gets closer to you and you nod, confidence radiating off you.

“Of course, I will, and I will enjoy wiping the floor with your bodies,” you say and Clarisse doesn’t know if she feels competitive or hot and bothered at the sight of you so confident.

“Better prepare yourself to prove that statement princess, wouldn’t want to see you crying on the floor at the end,” Clarisse says, and she enjoys the scoff you let out at her words.

“Give me your worst La Rue,” you tell her, and she can only whisper it back before brining you into a heated kiss, efficiently bringing the conversation to a stop.

--

She should’ve known Annabeth would be using you against her, after all the girl was smart even at the age of twelve.

“Funny seeing you here,” she hears you say, and she can’t help but snort at your words before seeing a dagger in your hand.

“Common princess, really? Just one dagger?”, she can’t help but say, feeling already like they were going to win this game of Capture the flag.

“I don’t need more, you on the other hand seem to have a lot of weapons on you. Isn’t that too much weight?”, you ask her, with that sweet voice you always used on her, if you had been a daughter of Aphrodite, it could’ve been seen as charm speaking. But then again it only seemed to work on her. 

You get closer to her, much more than how close you would usually get to an opponent, but she doesn’t say anything as she can only enjoy the touch of your fingers as you adjust her strap.

“You look so stunning in this, like a real warrior,” she knows you are trying to get to her, get her to lower her guard and it works, of course it does.

“Please don’t be mad at me?”, you whisper and before she can ask why you push her in the direction of the water, her sibling quickly falling with her as an invisible Annabeth pushes him.

“Percy, now!”, Annabeth yells and the boy manages to crash a huge wave on them before they can try to get up. The girl takes the flag and puts her cap on before running as fast as she can through the forest.

“Good job water boy,” you tell him as he comes out of the water, somehow already completely dry with a smirk on his lips. 

“This was fun!”, he says before he sees a glaring Clarisse starting to stand up and running away in the direction of the blue flag.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” the Ares girl says with furrowed eyebrows, and you can see the glare in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, it was Annabeth plan, and I couldn’t really tell her that I wasn’t going to do it,” you tell her, but she grumbles under her breath, still looking beautiful even completely wet.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you tell her as you get closer to her, and she raises her eyebrows in interest.

“Really? How?”, she asks, and you smile as you wrap your arms around her neck, smiling even wider as you feel her arms slowly circle around your waist.

“You can decide, I’ll do anything you want for the rest of the day,” you tell her, and a flicker of mischief appears in her eyes, and you know far too well what that means.

“Except for pushing Percy into the water,” you tell her, and a pout appears on her lips.

“Fine, I want you to spend the rest of the day with me and give me your dessert at diner. I also want a back massage,” she has a smirk on her lips, and you quickly nod in agreement, excited to spend the rest of the day with her.

“And one more thing,” she says but before you can ask what her hands on your hips twist you around and push you into the cold water. 

As you come back up, you can’t help but laugh at your satisfied girlfriend.

“Now we’re even,” she says before taking her armor off and joining you into the water.

--

Requests are open!

[soobnny]

brownies 4 u — lee felix x reader ; there is love in a batch of freshly baked brownies (0.7k words)

happy bday felix!

The sun had come down hours ago when you arrive at Felix’s dorm.

It’s late, a little too late for your liking because you tether between quiet footsteps and gentle actions so as to not shake anyone awake from their slumber.

You politely set your shoes down where everyone else’s are. Their dorm has always been the cleanest between the four. You suppose it might be his roommate, Seungmin’s doing.

“Baby?”

You hear him before you see him.

You would’ve ran to the direction of the sound had the air not been so delicate. Guilt sits horrendously at the bottom of your stomach at the thought that maybe the beeping of the door had woken him up, but in the periphery of your vision, there’s evidence that contrasts your suspicions.

“What are you doing awake?” You suppose you don’t need to ask upon closer look.

Between the commotion in the kitchen and the flowery apron he’s sporting around his neck (the one you’d gifted to him last Christmas), you already know what.

The more appropriate question was why.

“You said you were craving brownies earlier.”

Oh.

He’s so warm, and so kind, and he’s speaking so gently that it matches the way he’s smiling at you.

Your stomach swirls with an emotion entirely different from the guilt that had occupied it earlier. Despite your eyes dimming with tire, there’s no mistaking the fondness that litters your pupils when you look at the boy.

So that’s why.

“Sit down, they’re almost done.” Felix doesn’t leave without a kiss on your forehead, careful not to touch you with his flour-filled hands.

The proximity is enough for you to catch a whiff of his soap and the sweetness of the brownie batter.

You’ve never felt this way before.

And if the boy was being honest, he’d never felt this way before either. He’s never been the type to sacrifice his sleep over a simple craving you’d mentioned in passing.

While he has always been kind, Felix had no trouble drawing the line where friendship and love tow dangerously close to one another. With you, he finds that he doesn’t mind losing the extra hours he could’ve gotten had he not started baking. He doesn’t mind if he’s doing it in the premise of love.

Hyunjin had asked him to describe it once.

Love.

There is nothing potently more romantic than the way your heart feels, he thinks.

Felix will never find the words to answer Hyunjin, but if anyone were to spend a second being as in love with you as he is, they’d know. Sometimes, there’s no need for words. It’s just the way you make his heart beat in a way it has never before.

“You didn’t have to make me this.” Your heart swells when he takes the seat next to yours, two pieces of perfectly cut brownies on a plate.

“I wanted to.”

Your ‘thank you’ comes out whispered, and Felix spends the remainder of the time memorizing your smile the moment you take a bite.

“It’s really good.”

He mirrors your smile. Your cheeks puff up a little bit while you’re chewing, and there’s years of happiness and pain littered through little marks all over your skin. There’s no sight as perfect as the one he’s subjected to right now.

“Is it?” He asks, eyes quiet with comfort.

You hum. It doesn’t take long for you to finish it. You didn’t know before that something as simple as a brownie and the hands and the patience and the person behind it could be the brief peace that you needed amidst a rough week.

“Thank you, Felix.” Sincerity drips from your voice, and it makes Felix warm.

There is nothing more beautiful than genuineness, especially when it’s aimed at you. He’s convinced God had modeled you after kindness, and he’s even more thankful that he’d walked a path in his life that led him straight to you.

“Bed?”

“Hmm..”

“Don’t do this again when you’re tired, okay?” You mumble, pressing a kiss on his lips as your eyes struggle to keep open. But it’s something you have to remind him, so he won’t risk his sleep again. “We can always wait til the morning.”

“Okay.”

(Felix still does. He doesn’t think you understand that his sleep is a small price to pay to see you smile despite your own exhaustion. He’s always been weak at heart when it comes to you.)

[meanbossart]

Oh boy, VaM is kind of a trial and error experience LOL I couldn't really show you how to use the interface and stuff without a whole video or something, but it's not THAT difficult to get a hang of if you just give yourself a day or two to play around, not to mention the number of tutorials you find out there. Luckily, if you only want to use it as a reference software that makes the process far easier (to this day I have no idea how to animate on that thing, since that's not what I use it for)

As for how I use it, it's pretty self explanatory - if there's a complicated pose I want to draw but I'm either having trouble with it, or just want to double-check angles/anatomy, I will use it as a resource! I use for most of my "proper" pieces (y'know, the nicer looking ones) and every once in a while for my silly comics if I'm having trouble with a pose.

Lets use this drawing for example (the character on top of DU drow belongs to @namespara )

I don't draw a lot of mud-wrestling (shocking, I know) but I had an idea of the kind of pose I wanted them to be in. So the very first thing I did was make a rough sketch of what I was envisioning:

I often do a rough sketch first, even If I know I'm going to be pulling the program up because A) It's less tedious than adjusting the models over and over again until I pick a pose and B) because sometimes I'll decide I don't need the reference, after all, and so that's 30 minutes I'll have spared myself of playing around on the software.

Now, this is a pretty complicated pose! It's in a weird angle and the bodies are making contact in ways I'm not used to depicting, so I did choose to whip out VaM for this one. I went into the program and after some messing around, I flopped my little dolls together like this:

Now something really cool about VaM is that you can completely customize your models, and if you have the patience, I would definitely encourage you to do so! Obviously, you don't have to make picture perfect replicas of every single character you have, but as you can see here I have made a DU drow "decoy" to help me better understand some of his features when I draw him: he has a strong brow, a short nose, a square jawline - these are all going to look a very specific way from certain angles, and I might not always be sure of how to draw it right! So it's useful to have models that bear SOME semblance to the character so you can better understand how different viewpoints will affect their bone structure and mass.

Also thank fucking god for the elf-ear slider. Figuring out how to draw those shits from certain angles was a huge pain in the ass when I started drawing DnD races.

So, with the reference in hand, I go over the sketch again:

Now you may notice that I don't stick to the reference 100%. There's three reasons for this:

posing on VaM is tedious as hell. You can get something incredibly natural looking and picture-perfect to reference from if you wish, but it's going to take you hours to do. So, for the most part I just slap guys together until the results are "close enough" and use that.

In my opinion, you should always aim to ENHANCE your reference material, not replicate it exactly!

While VaM is a PRETTY DANG GOOD source of anatomical reference, it isn't perfect, I often supplement it with further reference from real life resources or make tweaks based on my own knowledge where I catch it falling short (and, antithetical to what I just said, I sometimes fuck the anatomy up further on purpose if I think it looks better that way LOL it's all jazz baby).

Then lines, color, yada yada. I don't have a tutorial on that and I don't think I could make one, because my process is chaotic as hell, but I do at times use Virt-a-mate as loose reference for lighting too when coloring - waaaaayyyy less so however, because that process is even more tedious and I feel like I often get better results by just winging it. It is a feature of the program though, and I'm sure it would be helpful for someone who has a difficult time visualizing lights and shadows. I only started using this program a few months ago, so I happened to already have a pretty good understanding of that kind of thing and just don't personally feel like I get much out of that particular mechanic.

Here's a few other examples of pieces that I made reference for (WARNING: Suggestive)

Now, for the question many of you may want to ask:

"Can I trace this junk?"

And to that, I say: Buddy, you can do whatever the hell you want with the reference material you created.

However,

If your goal is to learn and improve your art, and to recreate realistic proportions and anatomy from memory, tracing won't help you.

Developing your own style, your muscle memory, and personal technique will all be hindered by choosing to trace instead of drawing from observation, so I would encourage against it. Hell - even when tracing is employed as a technique, it's usually by high-skill realism & concept artists who are looking to either cut some corners, save time, or just double-check their own proportions in order to improve further - if you try tracing as a beginner, you will most definitely find the result to still look stiff and "off".

So trust me, there is so much more to be gained from drawing from observation. Make note of tangents, compare proportions, use all the elements of the picture to dictate where and how things should go - it will be a far more rewarding experience.

Hopefully this has been helpful! VaM is a really cheap program (you get it on the guys' patreon for I think 8 dollars, just google it!) and it's definitely been worth my money as an artist since I found it. Learning to use it can be a little intimidating at first glance, but as I said above you only really need a day plus one or two tutorials to get a hang of the interface.

A fair warning though, IT IS A SOFTWARE MADE FOR VIRTUAL SEX/ADULT ANIMATION So when looking it up expect to see a some spicy content.

[chimimon]

What Gave Me Away?

Astarion x f!Reader

Word Count 9.5k

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: GAMEPLAY SPOILERS! & ROMANCING ASTARION SPOILERS! Mentions of canonical violence, Astarion POV, angst, with comfort (it ends nice I promise), slow burn, depictions of anxiety, depression, anger, insecurity, guilt, manipulation, blood drinking (of course), and it’s long as fuuuuuuu

& what I have to say is… As it turned out, I had played all of Act 2 out of order, and stopped doing that before I did some irreversible damage to my Moonrise Tower to-do list. Which means when I began to write this fic EVERYTHING WAS OUT OF ORDER. It still might be but idgaf anymore. Even the mf confession scene (I WIN! I WIN AND I DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO CHARM THAT VAMPIRE MF) I was sitting in my room, phone on my chest, Baldurs Gate in my hands googling ‘what to do before moonrise’, ‘moonrise or mausoleum first in bg3’, because I explored much more than I should have, apparently… So this fic has been Frankenstein-ed to death, and the word count has greatly exceeded my expectations. It’s kind of my baby so be nice and give it a little love if you like it… or don’t! I appreciate you either way. And Special thanks to E.P. for the prompt and her friend in SoCal because I was about to screw myself OVEEERRR!

Everything seemed bleak on the way to the Light Inn. Nothing magical or charming about the glowing mushrooms anymore and the air felt as thick as water. Astarion faithfully trudged behind you through the mud, uneven trails, and hostile shadowy figures. But sometimes you would squint at the marker on the map or linger a little longer than you should have. He would watch you squeeze your right hand with your left as you studied the hastily blotted spot, then you would trace the drawn pathway with your left hand while the right one would cover and squeeze your mouth. Beyond scenery, and new objectives, everyone was adapting. They had to; he had to. But you were changing faster than others, faster than him, and much faster than he could keep track of. 

Astarion felt like he was watching you disappear, or feeling you slip out of his hands the way blood from deep wounds squeezed between desperately closed fingers. From kind traveler, comforter, and hopefully hopeless leader, you burned with a desire to be it all. In front of other wandering bodies, the mere strangers swimming through the Underdark, Astarion watched you hold this fire with outstretched, kerosene-soaked hands, just to give someone else light. You might never see these people again, but you did it anyways, even if all it did was burn. Whether it be fighting at some poor soul's side or offering words of comfort, once the rescuee turned to leave Astarion watched to see whatever leftover flame danced in your palms. Some nights he couldn’t even call it that despite you cradling it close to your chest. 

Often times Astarion thought of taking over your dealings even if it meant they’d get a little lost in his blind, apathetic advice. He knew that you were the most levelheaded person to lead but gods you started to look as lost as he already felt. The Inn was just a bridge away, before it was it was a group of protective Harpers away. Before anyone could find a place to lay their heads Astarion felt his patience thin when having to save Isobel was thrown into the mix. But you fought fearlessly. Always saving people without a second to spare, or a second to think. 

Lately, Astarion wondered just where you had been all these years. 

“If possible,” you spoke in soft whispers to Jaheira about your accommodations. “Could I have a single room for tonight? I-I can pay I just-” 

With a quick hand over yours and a warm smile, Jaheira reassured you that after keeping their Selûne Warrior safe, the least she could do was let you have a room to yourself. “It has two beds, but you can push them together for one big one.” You nodded and thanked her with a long breath out. 

Astarion for a moment pretended to be looking at a patron nearby as you walked toward him. But he couldn’t help trying to keep you in scene before you could arrive. Trying to read your shoulders, eyes brows and hands. Truthfully Astarion was looking for something soft in your inventory; he wondered if tonight you might have anything to spare. 

“If you’re hungry,” your worn out, dim voice and all-knowing watch cut in. “You can feed on me tonight if you’d like.” 

“I was just so hoping you’d ask. But are you really looking for alone time?” Giving you a tilted head and lopsided glance was enough to tell him where he stood. “Or are you looking for alone time with me, darling?” 

“I was going to pretend you weren’t obviously eavesdropping, but you’d love that wouldn’t you?” You were warm enough to keep up with a quirked a brow and an equally lazy grin. “After today I feel like everyone can smell me from outside the Inn. So, until I can shower... I don’t even want to think about doing anything other than sleeping in a bed.” 

“I’m sure you don’t.” He whisked behind you and whispered, “But if change your mind, at least think of me.” 

“Aha, I’ll be seeing you later,” the back of your hand smacked your forehead as though you were swooning. “Tonight.” 

A small guilt tugged at his chest before you nodded off and up the stairs. Astarion would lounge around in the waiting area while Karlach gushed over Jaheira from afar. Shadowheart walked alongside her to study the Inn with wholehearted skepticism. Audibly muttering her thoughts about the moon maiden, the area as a whole, and how Shar’s worshippers must have had their reasons. She broke away from Karlach and headed to Astarion with her eyes stuck to Jaheira. “We should probably get to our room them?” 

“Right.” 

On cue, Karlach caught them both headed up the stairs and followed. She waved to Jaheira, still gushing. “Gods isn’t this exciting- oh, hey? Where’d our little leader go?” Karlach asked upon arrival. 

“She might’ve beat us to bed.” Shadowheart smiled. “I wouldn’t blame her if she’s fast asleep, she’s earned it.” 

Astarion thought about letting them know about your requested ‘alone time’ but figured you would come around to telling them after they find you. 

Little drops of drying water decorated the wooden floor in a trail that led down the stairs. Astarion followed the trail with his eyes alongside Karlach who noticed it too. “Wait, Shadowheart,” she called. 

None of them had noticed you pass by with freshly washed hair and a towel around your shoulders.  They all backtracked down the staircase, Karlach stood near a game of chess, Shadowheart by the banister, and Astarion some feet behind you while you knelt in front of a hairless cat. You seemed more at ease tonight. 

“Hello, your highness.” You let your hand keep you steady on the ground as you spoke. “I’ve come to admire your beauty.” The cat sat tall and proud, lifting his head so you can awe at his hairless self. “And what a beautiful cat indeed.” You cooed without reaching to touch the animal. 

The cat nodded and swiftly made its way over to its bed, dismissing you with its whole, hairless body. You stood up, stretched your arms above your head before catching the group lounging nearby. Nothing was said as you politely waved to everyone before turning your attention to a man and child playing chess. 

From behind you couldn’t tell just then who you were looking at but as you rounded the table to get a good view of the game, Raphael and Mol, the Tiefling child who spoke on everyone's behalf earlier, seemed to be in a heated match. Raphael was going to win despite giving Mol pointers. If anything, his pointers were just to remind Mol that she was going to lose no matter the move. 

The child's pouting seemed to give you an idea. You took a drawn-out stretch being sure to overextend your arms and back. Astarion knew exactly what you were doing before you ‘lost your balance’ and knocked into the board. The pieces tipped and rolled in every direction and Raphael shot a knowing look at you, only turning back to the board after his opponent had pieced it back together. 

“Well, go on, Mol.” The devil muttered. 

With one move Mol won the game and shot up from their seat. “Well, that settles it. Fair and square!” They exclaimed proudly. 

“Sure, fair and square.” Raphael nodded up to you. “But before you go,” Mol looked over her shoulder. “Think about my offer.” 

Up and away she went while Raphael turned to his leftover audience. “Fancy seeing you all here, and so far away from the sun.” 

“I didn’t know you struck up deals with children.” Your tone surprised Astarion. 

“Don’t you worry, it’s only a necessary evil. She’ll come around to the only option she has,” Raphael expectantly looked past you to Astarion. “But I have a feeling your little friend has a question they want to ask me.” 

“I do,” Astarion’s eye contact wavered. “I have a proposal.” Raphael mocked him before mentioning something about his how drinking blood would burn more than whiskey. “This is serious business, devil.” Astarion hardened his voice as he explained the runes. From the corner of his eye, he watched you stiffly fold your arms and size Raphael up with a glare. Astarion felt some comfort in that. “I want to know if it’s maybe a contract...” 

“Well, what could it be?” Raphael melodically taunted. “A lover letter, a deed, a contract?” He waved his hand in front of Astarion’s face like he was introducing the opening act in a play. “But I need time to think. I will have to get back to you on that.” 

Astarion whined, reiterating just how serious this was to him before asking, “Just how soon will you get back to me on that?” 

“Soon.” 

At some point you fidgeted with the fabric of the towel around your neck before steadily pulling it to one side of your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” the devil reassured both of you, “I am most inclined to help.” With dramatic flair, Raphael disappeared in a quick plume of smoke. 

All eyes but yours turned to Astarion, and Astarion with his on you. It was clear that Raphael’s attitude had rubbed you the wrong way as you blankly stared at the spot he vanished from. “I’ll get back to you on that.” you mumbled. Your damp hair had soaked into the neck of your top. The towel dangled in your balled fist at your hip. The cool breeze sent shivers up your neck before you put the cloth back onto shoulders. After another moment of thinking, you turned around to head to your room. 

“Darling?” Despite it being barely audible, his voice seemed to reach you anyway as he caught your subtle hesitation before decidedly going on your way. 

Karlach and Shadowheart both began to say something but in vain as you were so lost in thought still that you couldn’t hear. They turned their attention to Astarion who intently watched you. “Is something going on between you two?” 

“What?” Astarion snapped his head to Karlach. 

“Sorry.” She snorted. “It could’ve been Raphael but she just seems way more tired than usual.” 

“Well, we are in the Underdark, Karlach.” He said obviously. “It’s dark down here, and I’m sure that the dark makes most normal people tired.” 

“Don’t be rude Astarion.” Shadowheart butt in. “Are you sure that feeding on her every night wouldn’t be a contributing factor along with ‘the dark’?” 

“Haven’t you been healing her up every morning?” 

“I have not. Not since we’ve been down here.” Karlach watched in awe between the stairs and then to two bantering at the bottom. “So, if you’ve been feeding on her still, well... She hasn’t had any of her usual morning chats with me.” Shadowheart finished. 

Karlach watched as Astarion’s eyes round in realization. The guilt grew, pushing his stomach up into his neck. “Oh Fangs, you didn’t know. It’s okay, I think.” 

“Is it, Karlach?” Shadowheart interjected, shooting a venomous glare at the ill looking vampire. “It started with a dagger to her neck, which she forgave. Then she’s understanding of your hunger, even defending you to Gale after you go at her neck again without permission.” 

“That was once- only twice-!” He pushed his finger out to correct her. 

“And all you can do is give half-hearted compliments and bat your eyelashes whenever you need something. A potion, a moment, a warm body to bleed. I mean, have you even said thank you?” 

Karlach put her hand between the two. “Shadowheart, I know you’re worried about her but you know that it’s can’t just one person's fault. It might not be anyone’s fault let alone Astarions.” She waved it up and down. “I think we’re all just tired-.” 

“Don’t act like you’re physically incapable of talking to her yourself!” Astarion retorted above and below Karlach’s hand. “And my attempts to thank her have been pushed aside, thank you very much!” 

“Ever try a full-fledged, verbal ‘thank you for feeding me every night, I appreciate you letting me suck you dry, Darling.’ ever?” She took a deep breath in, and on exhale she let her shoulder drop. 

“Let’s just go up and check on her then.” Karlach successfully cut in. 

Shadowheart reached into a small pouch on her person and thoughtfully brought out the little idol of Shar you gifted her the moment you could dust it off. “Do you know just how much she puts into our group?” Her voice was coated in adoration, and it made Astarion sick. “Or how much she’s already put in?” 

Astarion knew. Of course he knew. He was well aware of how much he took, as well as often as did. But he always knew just when to stop, or at least he thought he knew. But that was before he started to find you in even the smallest corners of his mind, before he found himself keeping an eye on you in battle, before the guilt got harder to swallow. If he pushed your sincerity aside with closed eyes as he held out a beggar's hand, the weight of what you gave him would mean nothing if he didn’t have see what you were left with. 

The strangers, travelers, your kind demeanor and hopeful act. Looking back to the Harper woman that marked your map, he wondered if the Light Inn was going to be enough to keep you going tomorrow. If it was enough for you to spare anything more after, or in the days to come. Gods, was the Harper woman a reflection of him? Where he only loathed her for sinning the same way he did; or for taking what he was saving for later? If anything, Astarion felt like he might as well just be another traveler to you. Someone that followed you around like hungry, dead weight. But he would never have to wonder how far you had carried him and six others, they had the map and markers. But he did wonder just how often he stole your living, breathing warmth. 

Wasn’t that the plan, for him to bleed you dry? Then, now, and hopefully after? 

“I don’t think Astarion would do anything to purposefully weaken her.” Karlach came to his defense. “That wouldn’t make sense, especially now. Besides, she is a big girl and can come to you if she feels like it.” 

Shadowheart shook her head. “You know what? You’re right. And so are you, Astarion.” The little, rock carved goddess dramatically fell to her side alongside her hand as she turned. “Why am I even waiting for her to ask? I’ll be upstairs.” She ran and left Karlach to tend to Astarion. 

“Fangs, you’re looking down, too. Don’t let Shadowheart get to you she’s been…” Karlach gave a sympathetic smile. “You know you can always talk to Mama-K.” Her laugh was aimed at herself as Astarion playfully rolled his eyes. 

The two of them watched the floor before Astarion looked up to her. “Do you think I’ve done it this time?” 

Without a second thought Karlach shook her head enthusiastically. “You might be right about the Underdark. There’s more on her mind than just you and me. Well, in her mind… I should say.” 

“In our minds.” a pathetic laugh bubbled from the nausea. “I think our dark princess would have to agree with that. At least to some extent.” 

Karlach met Astarion’s gaze with another sympathetic smile “I know you care,” she seemingly said out of nowhere. “I’m not the only one who sees it when you look at her. Even if it’s just a little. I think she at least knows that you care about her if Shadowheart doesn’t, ya’ know?” 

Astarion slowly nodded with a confused look before Karlach lead the way to their room. When Shadowheart returned from her check-in with you, she paid no mind to Astarion for the rest of the night. Instead, she went straight to Karlach, and to what his eavesdropping could gather, he safely assumed that he was in the clear. He guessed you really did just need alone time. 

After his vampiric rest, he lied still. Whatever light from outside cast patterns on the ceiling, and he cut them out into little pieces with Shadowheart’s steady breathing and some occasional snoring from Karlach in the background. Then he wondered what you sounded like while you slept. He hated that he didn’t pay attention the one time he could. Did you snore? If you did, were they raspy, hollow breathes or loud snorts that echoed? Maybe you were the restless dreamer where the shuffle of blankets and pillows would tell him you were just about to wake up. 

Astarion found himself wanting to know and shot up before he could want to know more. 

The wood was cool on the bottom of his feet. Without creaking, cracks, or splinters Astarion was able to move quietly out of the room into the hall. Lit candles lined the hallway to your room which felt more meaningful to him than it should have but he shook coincidence away and out of his mind. Instead, Astarion thought about how you pretended not to hear him earlier, he thought back to hands holding flames and he froze, feeling sick at your door. 

I’m hungry, he told himself. I feel sick because I am hungry. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, clearly expecting him with your hair pulled to one side and the right side of your neck exposed. “You’re late.” 

“Only a little, darling.” Astarion made his way over to plant his right knee beside your thigh, his left leg between your own. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.” 

“Hardly.” you whispered to the door behind him. “Besides, I can’t let you go hungry, can I?” 

Astarion decided not to press you. “I suppose not.” He smirked as the breath of his reply sent goosebumps all over your neck and shoulders. 

Tonight, you didn’t close your eyes in anticipation. There was no shiver down your spine or shudder in your breath when Astarion held both of your shoulders while he slowly sunk his teeth in. Hells, you didn’t even whine. It felt like kissing someone who wouldn’t close their eyes or kiss him back. 

Astarion made it quick, hardly getting his fill. As he arose and took a step back to search you up and down for any sign of discomfort. There was nothing out of the ordinary, you paled like usual, especially in your lips, but your expression was unreadable. Visibly there was nothing wrong, but he wanted to listen to your beating heart just to be sure nothing was moving faster or slower than it should. Then without thinking, he suddenly and loosely embraced you in his arms to put his head to your chest. 

“Woah, h-hey.” You jumped back on your elbows, crawling a step back on the bed. 

Astarion’s hands shot up in the air. “I was just,” The look of innocent surprise that coated your body was cute until he remembered why you looked so venerable. He furrowed his brows as he massaged the bridge of his nose, coming off of the bed. “I-I didn’t, or- I don’t mean to insinuate anything, my dear.”  

“Then...” The bed shook under his knee as you relaxed onto your hands, upright but leery. “What were you trying to do?” 

“Nothing, really." He massaged his neck. “Unless-” 

“Unless nothing.” You wildly grinned. “Unless nothing, Astarion. I really mean to have my alone time.” 

“Are you-” Astarion squared his gaze onto the litters of goosebumps on your chest and shoulders while you self-soothingly rubbed your arms. “Are you cold?” His chest tightened once he realized you were suppressing the chatter of your teeth with a trembling jaw. 

“A little.” The movement slowed as you stiffly squeezed your biceps. “Blood loss tends to do that.” 

That’s right, he thought. Astarion of all people, or undead things, should know that the lack of blood meant a lack of warmth. 

“Don’t you look so concerned. That’s not like you.” You coyly laughed. “I’ve been okay before, and I’ll be okay now. I am sitting on top of a completely made bed, you know?” 

Astarion stretched his neck and sighed. “Of course.” He gave you a weak chuckle. “Well, I guess I’ll take my leave then. But if you need a little warming up, you know where to find me.” The rustle of sheets as you climbed under the covers made him scrunch his nose insecurely at the door. “Good night, darling.” 

The following morning, Astarion could found sitting at the chess table, replaying the night before. Not for Raphael but for you. It more so that he was cringing at himself and his lack of control. The way your reacted to his embrace compared to his bite made his head spin with wonder and disappointment. The fact that his teeth breaking your flesh was better received than his concern was astounding. Realizing that if he was going to pull you into him, it was expected that he take and not give. 

Was it that obvious? 

You descended the stairs, the two followed behind, and you were practically glowing. Immediately Astarion felt relieved to know that Shadowheart likely made sure to cast a restoration of some sort today. He sat up a little as you wordlessly greeted him, watching you feel the right side of your neck with your left hand while your self-conscious chuckle furthered his optimism. 

Sigh, last night, “Again, I didn’t-” Astarion started to apologize. 

“Hush.” You made big eyes in reference to the two behind you. “You’re alright in my book.” Sheepishly grinning, you tilted your head and scrunched your nose before heading out. 

As per usual, everyone followed your lead in battle. Successfully you collected the Moonlantern, freed a pixie from inside, and were already thinking about the next move back at camp the morning after. “I think we should scope out Moonrise before meeting with any head honchos.” You said near the empty fire pit at camp. “I’ll do my usual hoarding while we get a good look at the place. And this,” you pointed to a little circle with question mark inside, “I can hardly remember what for, but I think it was marked for some rumored supplies.” You wiggled your fingers in the air with feigned enthusiasm. “I would like this to be priority, actually.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Karlach affirmed. “And I see that good ol’ Gale will be joining us today?” 

“I shall be at your disposal, yes.” He smiled genuinely before it grew sheepish. “Of course, with the hopes that I would not be disposed of.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes.  

“Never, Gale.” You playfully smiled at Astarion. “You’re the last person here I’d do that to” 

“Oh, don’t look at me,” he scoffed but you did, playfully through your lashes. 

“Whatever you say.” You sung before quickly tucking the map away. “But today we’re just scoping, taking, and talking.” 

Everyone nodded, and without another word were off to Moonrise. 

To everyone’s surprise, the guards could not care less about your party going in. The parasite was like a VIP pass inside and the tadpole-less guests praised your every step. It was odd to be so easily trusted and to roam freely. Usually at least one person challenged your worm infected autonomy, but this was a nice yet eerie change. 

But to nobody’s surprise nothing could ever go according to plan. Gale had opened the biggest and most obvious set of doors upon entry and interrupted a meeting between some goblins and Katheric Thorm. To the very left of where Katheric was sat stood Z’rell, the cult advisor that the guards outside said everyone must report to. And again, to not no one’s surprise, the meeting was nothing short of incredibly memorable with a show of immortal strength and the opportunity to sacrifice a small goblin herd at trial. 

Astarion was curious to see what your heroic self would do when the fate of the goblin crews' lives was hurriedly placed in your hands. So, when you had asked them to stop speaking, ‘to not even breathe’, his heart raced with confusion and excitement. 

That’s my girl, he thought. “But by the gods, I hope she’s okay.” 

“Me too.” Karlach swallowed with disappointment. 

Astarion cupped his mouth, not meaning to have said the second half of his thought aloud. 

Karlach looked over to him, “I guess the Underdark really is doing a number on her.” 

“It would seem so.” He kissed his teeth. 

You waved everyone over to follow Z’rell upstairs. A whole new mission got added to the list and Astarion took in this small laugh of disbelief you gave him. In response he tucked in his chin and raised a brow as though to wordlessly ask what exactly had you expected after everything leading up to this. 

The Tower was big, full of locked doors and overly trusting guests that roamed and for a moment there was some pep in your step as soon as you finally got everyone back on track. But once a broken wall produced just under 200 gold and a spell scroll, your disappointment was obvious as you bit your knuckle at the open chest. Without enthusiasm, you drew a little check mark beside the rumored supplies you prioritized this morning. Astarion would normally have something snarky to say but the glowing girl from earlier was having her light put out by her own optimism and he wanted nothing more than to do or say something that could bring back a spark. A pixie, perhaps. But before he could reach out to you, Karlach pushed through a door and on the other side of it was Araj who would come to make things worse.  

The blood lusted alchemist was off to a bad start when she immediately noted Astarion as the ‘Pale Friend’, drawing a more than uninterested look from you as she spoke. “I can make one of a kind potion, just for you, from you.” She modestly smiled. “One prick, a drop of your blood and it’s yours. But I keep the rest for myself.” 

After some curious questions, Astarion was surprised when you held out your hand to be poked. But then thought about how stupid it was to be surprised at that after the night prior. Instantly a potion was produced and carefully placed into your hands. 

“Thank you-” 

“Before you go, there is one other thing I would like to discuss;” she interrupted moved closer to you, but only to get a better look at Astarion. “Your friend.” 

Astarion knew that he stood out in a room to anyone who knew anything about the undead. They could and often did sniff him out wherever he met them. So, when she inquired of his being a Vampire or spawn, he naturally reassured her that as a part of the absolute that everyone serving in Her name was safe in his company.  

“Oh no, I hope for quite the opposite.” Araj watched you expectantly. “I assume he belongs to you?” 

“Belongs?” A distasteful curiosity bled from your voice. “Excuse me, but he’s his own person.” 

She smiled mockingly. “I’m sure he believes that.” 

Distaste was a little soft, you looked and sounded appalled. Actually, to everyone in your corner, your face gave that word another meaning. The drow hardly asked for his name, if anything she flatly commanded it from the wide-eyed Vampire. 

Your finger flew back to shush him, “Astarion” he too quickly answered. “But wait-.” 

“Good.” She smirked. “Now-” 

Your finger made its way around to her before she could continue. “Watch it.” You warned. 

Astarion looked over to Karlach and Gale who were also caught just as off guard as you were. But she paid no mind to your hand as she explained her life-long, born from childhood dream of being bitten by a vampire. She looked too comfortable swooning as she talked about losing her blood in between life and death. “I’ll even give compensation. A potion of legendary power.” Araj bribed. 

Astarion knew where this was going as Araj gave the details of the potion. He knew where he was and knew everyone had just a taste of power these cultists had. He knew that most people would be persuaded with this once in a lifetime offer. Who wouldn’t want guaranteed strength in a bottle? Most people would be, but he hoped that you weren’t most people because was unsure he would say no if you asked him to. He knew he owed you that much. 

The Drow asked Astarion if he would bite her to which he kindly declined. Then she faced you, clearly taken aback. “Well, can’t you do something about him? About your spawn?” Astarion held his breath. 

“He said no.” Relief flooded his body, causing his shoulders to drop despite his fixed posture in surprise. But you were stiff, straightening your neck as disappointment spread across Araj’s face. “What part of that did you not get the first time?” 

“Soldier,” Karlach leaned to your ear. “I think we should get going.”  She nudged your foot with hers. “We’ll be seeing you, Arash.” 

“It’s Araj.” 

“Right, sorry.” Gale apologized on Karlach’s behalf and bowed on the way out. Astarion followed behind him through a door that took everyone back outside. 

Karlach seemed to be calming you down, and until Karlach mentioned it, Astarion didn’t realize that while Araj spoke you began to pet a dagger on your hilt. “We don’t need to get into trouble while we’re still on the Absolute’s ground. Not before we’re ready to be.” 

Surely it wasn’t on his behalf, was it? No could care about anyone that much let alone another Vampire’s Spawn. 

“I should’ve just done it. The doors were closed and who knows? Maybe she had the potion already on her. Or maybe not.” Astarion raised a brow as his stomach sank. “Fucking weirdo.” You muttered. 

“Wow,” Karlach laughed. “Fucking weirdo, I couldn’t agree with you more, Captain.” She ran up as you walked around the tower. 

Astarion blankly watched the back of your head from two people away as you grew quiet and stayed that way. He wanted to know what you were thinking and whether or not you were mad at him for being so unwilling or if your silence was left over from Araj. But there was also nothing planned after scoping out Moonrise, at least nothing anyone mentioned. Everyone settled on blindly following your lead as you spotted a hill with some makeshift graves. 

“Gale,” you stopped suddenly at the foot of an overgrown root. “Can you head back to camp and grab Shadowheart?” 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded. “I’d really appreciate something warm and hearty when we get back, and I love her but-.” 

“No need, I get it.” Gale smiled, bowed, and waved everyone off. 

Astarion watched Gale leave before he caught you and Karlach now raced to a patch of dirt. When he caught up with you, Karlach was watching out for Shadowheart as you picked through some choice graves. 

“Sweetheart, are you robbing from dead Justiciars?” His shadow hovered over your hands. “Why have her join at all?” 

“I’m sure she might know something about this site. But not a word about my scavenging, please.” With steady hands your swiftly placed the stones back the way they were. 

Astarion’s index finger and thumb drew a line in front of his lips as he sealed them shut and threw away an imaginary key. “My lips are sealed.” 

You snorted and smacked the dirt off your hands before Shadowheart materialized out of thin air, having everything to say about Shar’s faithful fallen soldiers. As she knelt to one of the graves, reverently running her hand across the rocks, Astarion caught sight of a dimly lit entrance. Karlach saw it too and pointed. 

“Maybe we can check it out before we look for supplies in the buildings, we passed by…” her booming voice trailed off when she saw him, then everyone turned. 

Raphael was mumbling to himself at the bottom of some steps at entrance of a cave. As Astarion began to walk only to see you were once again leading the way over. Again, in disguise, the devil gave the details of his deal to the whole group. All they had to do was kill an old enemy of his if Astarion wanted his scars decoded. The deal seemed sweeter than what he expected, simpler, maybe too sweet. But no one was sure what price was to be paid for translation. 

Karlach leaned over to you. “Again, I really don’t know about this.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes before he turned away from the cave. He just missed your response, and how Karlach retorted didn't fill in any blanks. “I don’t want to be tricked into doing that evil fucker's errands for free or find out that this order is for more than any of us can afford fill.” 

“Well, for now,” Shadowheart shot Astarion a raised brow to measure. “I think should head back to camp. I think we could use a moment to relax.” She tilted her head to you with her eyes locked on Astarion. 

You nodded mindlessly. “Yeah, or at least a moment to think” 

Astarion began to open his mouth when Shadowheart chimed in again “Right,” sounding uncharacteristically chipper. “We should plan a little just before heading inside. 

“I’m sorry you came here for nothing-” 

“The graves of Justiciars are not nothing.  Besides, I’m glad you thought to have me, even if it was just for a moment.”  

Shadowheart was good at that. Being soft when you needed it. And Karlach was good at melting you into a giggling mess when she could. Most of the time Astarion could find something obscene enough to say, that pulled you out of your head to laugh. But lately he felt like him just being there was making it impossible for anyone to distract you from yourself. 

You looked pensive the whole walk back to camp. After everything that had happened today from Moonrise, to goblins, to devils, Astarion could not pinpoint if it was one specific thing or everything that weighed heavy on your mind. What he could gather was how drastic the dip in your mood was after Araj, and Raphael. Both of those things happened to be tied to him and he got that funny feeling again. The feeling that he was taking from you without realizing it. That his mere presence was enough to make you bleed. 

Astarion wished he had just said yes to drinking the Araj’s foul-smelling blood. He shouldn’t let you fight his battles and make his deals; he didn’t want you to anymore. Astarion was centuries older than you and yet you were the one holding his hand through the Underdark. Staying up late night after night so he could eat. And he found himself pondering it all too tenderly. 

Scratch and the Owlbear cub zipped past you, hopping around giddily despite the gloomy scenery. Astarion felt a bit pensive himself. You were just as distant as you had been lately but tonight you were especially cold. Sure, you were healthier today than you had been for a while, and nothing seemed to tire you out. But there wasn’t the light and witty banter you spewed so effortlessly that he loved. He missed your observant and borderline judgmental comments on anything you stole from buildings and corpses. Even in Balthazar’s room inside Moonrise Tower, which brimmed with separated limbs and cold jars of blood, you made no snarky comment in correlation to Astarion’s diet. It would’ve have been easy, low hanging fruit by his standards; but at this point he was pulling on the branches for you to reach, you wouldn’t even need to jump. Astarion just wanted you to pick up something, anything really to throw at him. 

“Hey,” You called out, making him unusually hopeful. 

“Yes, darling?” He gave his most honest grin. 

“Do you think we can trust him to keep up his end of the bargain? Raphael, I mean?”  

“I trust a devil over a vampire any day. Besides,” with his hand on his chest, Astarion leaned back. “I think he likes us.” 

How you slowly blinked and nodded flattened his hopes. “It’s your only lead, I suppose...” Scratch and the Owlbear nearly ran into you again, but you didn’t smile, flinch, or notice the animals despite watching them pass you two by. You were millions of miles away from everyone. Millions of miles away from him. 

“Yeah, it is our only lead. My only lead.” Astarion reiterated defensively. 

“I know, I know.” Your eyes screwed shut as you nodded some more. “Maybe we can go to the house of healing in case there’s something on Ketheric. Then after we can go to the cave.” 

“Only after…” What was cause for worry before was now cause for slight agitation. 

“Yes, well, I mean-” You threw your head back and up to the sky like itmight give you a clue. “Or..? Gods, I don’t know.” 

“What don’t you know, sweetheart?” 

“I-I don’t know that either. I don’t know what I don’t know, I guess.” Self soothingly you cupped your face and took a deep breath in. “What I do know is that’s it’s on my list.” You were staring at his neck, struggling to look up any further. 

You sounded unsure of yourself, and while that made him sympathetic, it did more to make him anxious. “I guess I can only hope that it’s high up there. Afterall, this is the first chance I’ve had at deciphering my scars.” Astarion apathetically reminded you, unable to help his tone when he leaned into your ear uncomfortably close. 

“Be a dear and don’t get in my way.” He spat. 

“I won’t?” You turned to him equally defensive. “Don’t you know by now that you can just-” Astarion faced you, practically touching noses but nothing about the tension was romantic once he caught what looked like tears pooling in your eyes. “Y-you should know by that you can just...” 

Karlach glanced over to what she likely saw as two people incredibly close to one another, “Oh, don’t look now but there’s PDA on the campgrounds,” she announced. Wyll let out a dramatic ‘Oo~’ that made her laugh. 

Astarion was horrified inside and unable to think despite having that same snippy look on his face. But once the tears fell, he quickly pulled away, finally softening his demeanor. Karlach eventually looked over at you two when she hadn’t heard any smart mouthed response. 

“You j-just have to ask.” You whimpered between labored breathes. 

Karlach ran to your side before Astarion could think to speak. “What happened?” The concern in her voice caught Gale and Shadowheart’s attention. Gale quietly watched Astarion from a few feet away while Shadowheart raced over to place her hands on your shoulders the moment she arrived. 

Shadowheart did what she did best lately, give dirty looks at Astarion from in the background. She had her head on your shoulder while Karlach tried to get some sort of response out of you. Shadowheart took her turn with her own line of questions when all Karlach could get was a pained look on your face. But there you were in the center of them making him sick again. 

Astarion couldn’t handle himself as you cried. Never in his life had he so quickly regretted saying something to someone, let alone someone he grew so fond of. He felt worse as found himself noting how pretty you looked with tears down you face. All you needed was a break, maybe another night to yourself and right now he would give you all of them if he could help it. But he couldn’t, he never could. Astarion had to be sure that you were still on his side, and that you’d be waiting for him in his corner as though standing up for him in Moonrise Towers wasn’t enough. 

Worry grew as Astarion thought about freedom of choice, and how much time had passed from the Tiefling party. You repeatedly declined his advances to have sex again, but he hadn’t made any significant or particularly tempting advances. In fact, he didn’t want to. Until now, he didn’t think he had to. In-between what he knew and what he wanted, Astarion wasn’t sure he would truly feel better if you just used his body like he needed you to. But if you wanted to, he would let you. It would be fair. It would make everything easier. It was what he thought he deserved. But there you were in front of him, reminding him that all he had to do was ask and it was his. He knew that if he said that aloud you would convince him otherwise, even if you had to do it sobbing. 

That’s exactly how you made everything harder. Without your hands, without a leash, and without control, you had successfully made him care. When exactly that had started, Astarion couldn’t be sure but it was unsettlingly that the feeling crept in without a sound after he was so sure about having his heart set on using you. Maybe it started as selfishly as all things start, where wanting part of someone becomes needing everything else, they were. When being protected meant taking care his protector and being feed meant cleaning up after. Astarion wanted to switch roles to take care of you for once, he just didn’t know how to yet. 

Shadowheart was about to call Gale over when you finally moved to wipe away your tears with the sleeves of your top were pulled over your palms. “Please don’t.” You pleaded with a nervous grin. “It’s nothing.” 

“It is clearly not nothing.” Shadowheart squeezed your arms, her chin bouncing on your shoulder as she spoke. “You know you can talk to me. Or Karlach.” The Tiefling had her hands on her knees, crouching and nodding while Shadowheart spoke. “Or I can go grab La’zael but I don’t actually know what she would do for you. I don’t think she’s ever cried in her life...” 

You let out an estranged laugh at the mention of Lae’zel. Shadowheart and Karlach’s whole demeanor eased up as they laughed with you. Coincidentally, Lae’zel started sharpening a blade which echoed throughout camp and softened the air significantly. Karlach headed to Lae’zel’s tent to have her shut off the wheel, Shadowheart kept her arm around your neck, guiding you behind Karlach. Astarion watched as each breath hiccupped in your shoulders, ignoring Lae’zel’s blunt form of comfort while he left to accompany Gale. 

“You know Astarion,” he slowly stirred the strew from the very bottom of the pot to keep anything from sticking and burning. “She keeps a close eye on you when we’re out.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Astarion couldn't even try to pretend he meant that. 

“I’m not trying to be. As cold as you are, no pun intended, I think most of us can tell she has a keen interest in your wellbeing, and I would suspect that you maybe return the sentiment.” 

“I’ll have you know that not one of those earlier statements is funny or true.” Astarion tried to be coy. “Especially not now.” 

“Deflect all you want my sharp-toothed friend, but I know you do.” Gale poured a bowl for himself, and a second one for Astarion. 

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself.” He eyed the stew. “And Gale that’s just rude.” 

From the corner of his eye, you watched him expectantly, with the same look you had when he drank you up at Light Inn. Shadowheart was shaking her head and rolling her eyes while Lae’zel  spoke. “She doesn’t have to explain anything more. If she wants to sulk right now, let her.” Your Githyanki friend had this way of sounding harsh while looking concerned in her own funny way as she spoke. “Do you need more information to comfort someone you supposedly care for? Are those the teachings of Shar?” 

“You’re one to talk,” Shadowheart huffed. 

You were back and forth, looking between the two while seeming entertained. 

“Astarion, my friend.” Gale held out the bowl to him. “I’m sure you know what I’m doing.” 

He did. “Give me that.” He hissed and swiped your portion of food from Gales hand. 

You watched Shadowheart as she turned to face him. “Astarion.” 

“Shadowheart.”  

“Good evening to you.” She avoided eye contact as she folded her hands. 

Astarion bowed in a gentlemanly manner, tiling his head as he spoke to you. “I come bearing sustenance, my dear.” As you took the warm bowl from his hands Lae’zel tsked, and Karlach gave him a thumbs up despite pursing her lips. 

“I see Gale made stew?” Shadowheart kept curt. 

“I mean, I hope this is stew because if it’s not then I have no idea what she’s about to eat.” Astarion said sarcastically. “Although, in that case it’s better her than me.” 

Astarion couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad sort airy laugh you gave him before you took a bite. But you with a free hand you motioned him to lean in again. You placed the bowl between your lap on the stool to cup his ear with both of your hands. Astarion tried to get a good look at you from the corner of his eye before you left his peripheral. 

“You can feed on me again, if you’d like.” Gods you looked so pretty and venerable. 

“I think…” Astarion thought about your breath and hands on his ear and tried to shake away the thought, “I think we need to talk, later.” 

With the spoon in your mouth, you nodded again. “Okay, later.” You scooped up another bite. 

Shadowheart was about to say something when you put your hand on her arm and shook your head. “I’m good. This is good,” was said so sincerely she didn’t try to fight it. 

Astarion paid no mind to how the others reacted as he turned away to sit in his tent. The night couldn’t drag any slower even if it tried. You had disappeared into your tent after you ate, and so from in his own tent he was left to watch the rest of the weirdos interact and pretend that nothing happened. He stopped listening when Wyll started sharing some heroic tall tale and could only hope that you would still be awake after everyone else had fallen asleep. Truthfully Astarion had no reason to worry, he always found you waiting for him. 

Your lashes were wet as though you just finished crying a second time, or maybe you hadn’t stopped. “You’re early.” You massaged your jaw as you spoke. “Or have I kept you waiting?” 

“You haven’t kept anyone waiting,” he reassured. “And what’s with your jaw?” 

“Just tense.” 

Astarion hummed and squatted onto his ankles. “But you want to feed me anyways.” 

The question caught you off guard. “Yes? Well, if you need to...” 

“Hmm,” Astarion watched the ground. “You know, why do you do that to yourself?” 

“Do what?" He watched as you played with your fingers, squeezing your right hand with your left and had realized that you were studying him. 

“Weren’t you just crying earlier over something I said?” 

“It was more than that.” You caught yourself before you could elaborate and Astarion felt himself growing impatient again. 

“What do you mean more? More how?” 

The tips of your fingers turned white as you continued to squeeze and contort them. “It was just more. Beyond you, and them, and me.” As soon as you looked down at your hands you finally stretched them out in front of you for some relief. “Didn’t you say that you wanted to talk with me?” You pointed to yourself in an awkward attempt to lighten the mood. 

Astarion sucked in his lower lip and sighed. “I did, didn’t I?” 

Astarion stared at you through his lashes as he made his way onto his knees. “My dear, I wanted to talk to you-” A scornful Shadowheart appeared in his head and he winced. “Well. I more wanted to thank you.” 

“Thank me?” Your head shot up from your hands in your lap. “What did I do? You’re being a little mushy on me.” 

“I know, aren’t I full of surprises?” There was a pause as he thought about how to word what he wanted to say next and saw how the silence made you anxious. “But you stood up for me in Moonrise Towers when you didn’t have to, and respected me when I said no. I can’t even remember the last time anyone’s done that for me.” 

“Oh.” You smiled. “Of course.” 

Astarion was unsure of how to explain himself but he wanted to try. “I know I’ve talked about Cazador and the things he made me do. I would use my body to lure in any pretty thing with a pulse and push aside all the disgust that came with it because I had to.” Your hands balled up in your lap. “For a long time, it has felt like that was the only thing I know how to do. Cazador's commands became second nature, his voice still lives in my head. It’s like I forget I’m not under his control. You’ve helped me remember I don’t have to do those awful things anymore.” 

Self-consciously, you hugged yourself at your elbows and took another deep breath in. Your mouth opened to speak but only let all the air out. 

“You can ask me questions.” 

“If it filled you with disgust, if it was awful, then why did you...” You squeezed your eyes shut like you didn’t want to confirm some sinking suspicion. “Why did you sleep with me?” 

Astarion didn’t like your cautious tone. “Why are you asking like that?” 

“No, you just said- why did you sleep with me Astarion?” Your eyes bore into his. “Please just answer.” 

  “I needed you to protect me,” He observed your body as he had been while he spoke. “I needed to ensure you’d never want to leave me.” 

With your palms upright you stared at the space between you two. Astarion waited for you to say something but wasn’t sure what he expected. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear. 

“I hope you know, I would never.” was unexpected, welcome even, but it was not enough to satisfy his guilt. 

“Are you not upset with me?” 

“Do you want me to be?” Your eyes rounded with curiosity. “I just told you that I want you to know I would never leave your side, not willingly I should say.” Your voice trailed off in reflection. “I had never thought to, actually.” 

After centuries of being beaten down, torn apart and stripped of reason, you were just going to tell him that it was, okay? 

Astarion wanted to feel relieved. Astarion wanted to believe you without trembling, without balling his fists over his knees, without something telling him that should know better than to expect understanding. For years he had to get used to knowing that in Cazador's eyes he had always been below forgiveness. Especially the kind that needed no proof of his repentance. 

“What’s wrong?” Your hand fell into view, hovered above his lap and without touching him you guided his chin up so he would face you. 

Once again you were putting yourself aside to comfort him with a face that was drenched in concern. “I feel awful, you know. And you’re making this too easy. I have spent most of our time trying to seduce you, which was easy at first but then you just stopped. You just kept giving without taking which was just what I had hoped for. It was what I wanted- until suddenly it wasn’t.” Astarion shook his head when you nodded in understanding, “You knew it all along, didn’t you?” 

It was maybe a few seconds of silence but it felt like a lifetime while in his self-appointed judgement seat. 

“Not all along.” You looked up thoughtfully, “I didn’t think much of it until you wanted to bed me again." 

“Oh?” His own curiosity spoke cut through the doubt. “What gave me away?” 

“It was when you said,” Astarion winced as you cleared your throat and sat tall to give him a vivid visual of his act. “‘How about I try everyone's favorite? Just three little words? I love you'... Well,” You looked at his lap again, “it’s funny now.” You weakly smiled. Your hands flew over your mouth as your face twisted in embarrassment as Astarions mouth fell slightly open. “I realize that sounds like I wanted you to mean- well no. Yes- wait, no! I-It's not because I,” Your hands fell into your lap before you rolled your head from the ceiling down to him. “The realization hurts, but I guess conformation is worse.” 

Something about you losing your spark flitted across his mind again and without thinking, Astarion leaned in to cup your face tenderly. His cold hands clearly caught you by surprise but you didn’t move away. In his hands he held your swollen bewilderment and kind eyes. He wished he could see what you did in him. “If you’ll let me,” He traced lines over your chin, up to your eyes, the tip of your nose, before he made it back to your gaze. “I would like to have the chance to give you something real.” 

A warm smile in-between repose and disbelief made him weak. Another moment of silence passed as your eyes mapped out his expression. “Oh, shit,” you said with a slow falling simper that made your bottom lip tremble. “You mean that, don’t you...” 

“I do.” He whispered tenderly as his thumb moved to still the shake. “But only if you’ll let me.” 

You closed your eyes and let your head complete relax in his hands. Astarion took this as an opportunity to lift you closed to his face while your brows knitted together in anticipation. Slowly, he placed a kiss on your chin, your left cheek, then your right, before bringing your forehead to his lips. Your hands latched around his wrists as you pressed your head into his right hand. “Does this not bother you-?” 

“Not one bit.” He mirrored you. “But on that note, I think I need more time for intimacy. Or, maybe I don’t want that at all anymore. After everything.” His eyes dropped to your chin. 

“I can wait,” You reassured. “Whether or not that’s in vain. I don’t mind; we don’t have to have sex.” 

Astarion could feel his whole face open as he straightened his posture, and yours. His usual wit and charm were coming back to him. “Well, we’ll see if that proves to be a challenge.” 

You rolled your eyes and were about to pull away when his fingers pressed into your face to keep you still. “Yes?” 

All he could see were your lips, “May I?” 

Astarion was already moving in before you closed the distance. With your lips on his, his hand on the back of your neck, while another cradled your jaw, the only thing he could think about was just how warm you were, how soft and alive you felt on his mouth. But even in his hold he felt like he needed to chase you. You were being too gentle for his taste, too safe on his lips. Astarion was sure you could feel his growing hunger as his hand snaked to the base of your head to hold you by your hair, guiding each kiss with his neck before you finally opened your mouth, inviting him in. 

Still, it wasn’t enough. 

Astarion stood on his knees, not once letting you back away for air as he craned his neck to deepen a kiss that nearly pushed you onto your back. A drawn-out, reverberated whine melted in his ears as you pushed into his waist. But when you let go of him to support yourself, Astarion dragged his teeth on your bottom lip with a final peck before breaking away. You were panting as he sat back on the floor, smiling in his hold as his fingers were still tangled in your hair. Astarion pulled you into his arms, guiding you head into his shoulder before he drew circles on your back. As your heaving slowed, he pressed you flush against his chest like he’ll lose you if he couldn’t feel your heart against his own. “I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” You held him just as tight and that seemed to finally satisfy him. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

Astarion nearly purred when you pecked his neck. “Don’t mention it.” 

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