#instead of sex being a transactional thing

[general-alder]

the weirdest scene in mfs was alder and the witchfather banging with the biddies around in a circle holding their little candles or whatever like what the hell was that 😭

[emmafrostyyy]

y'all sleeping on Astarion/Lae'zel bc this moment is so...the way the flippant demeanor drops and he doesn't hesitate to call her out for sticking with her version of Cazador like their relationship is so underrated fr...

sitting down writing this bullshit like let me peel it like an onion a bit and elaborate why this pairing is fascinating to me

It's really interesting how during the most cathartic, life-altering moment in Astarion's questline, the reactions of the other companions are more about the moral wrongness/guilt of sacrificing innocent lives. Lae'zel doesn't do that and instead relates to his hurt.

She knows what's he's feeling, the lack of control, the unfairness of being powerless for too long. This is a woman who just found out her entire life purpose was built on lies, discarded and hunted by her own people after outliving her usefulness, and groomed to basically die for an insane power-hungry lich queen. She knows all too well that power isn't always real freedom. Her first instinct is to empathize with Astarion to steer him away from his hate and resentment.

Astarion/Lae'zel is so interesting to me because they're such a classic "can we make each other worse or make a better person out of the other?".

They both have genuine appreciation for violence and respect each other's ruthlessness. Astarion was used as a weapon of seduction while Lae'zel was of warfare. Sex with people is meaningless and not real intimacy for them, and while both have little understanding/experience of interpersonal relationships beyond the physical, they still feel and love very deeply. They have no frame of reference for things like friendship and warmth, but they badly want all of that and more, even if they don't know it yet.

In-game they can sleep with each other, which is basically the foundation of the normal Tav/Astarion romance. Lae'zel saw him during combat and got horny, who knows. Astarion who's used to luring people with his charms, takes up Lae'zel's blunt offer because she's a strong hardened warrior that can provide protection and be a worthy ally, and he doesn't know how to say no. Navigating the complications between one who wants to be seen beyond as a sex object, and one who comes from a totally alien culture with no concept of love/family/connections and only sex is honestly really compelling to me. It's a transactional, mutually beneficial thing with no emotional expectations. Once you get past the skeevy rockiness of their early relationship, I really like the idea of them slowly seeing something past the exterior and realizing they may have harshly misjudged the other, an unspoken friendship blooms, and in comes the realization that they are essentially loners longing for kindness and a comforting touch in the most desperate of situations.

Lae'zel is prideful, direct, has no sense of courtship talk, and doesn't hold back her thoughts the slightest--she's not sweet/agreeable and what you see is really what you get, which I imagine would be disarming for Astarion who's used to vacuous flattery and has difficulty trusting others. But she's also insanely protective, passionate, loyal, and an initiator-- every romance scene is triggered by her first and she's always showing effort towards her relationships, which would mesh well with Astarion who does need someone to nudge him.

She doesn't purposely suppress her feelings, she's just simply at loss at how to express them sometimes due to her wildly different upbringing. She stops the sparring match you agree to and an easy vulnerability slips instantly out of her: "I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you, and for you to protect me." and "Thus far I've taunted you, devoured you, battled you. Now I want more than anything to soothe you." are romantic as fuck and Astarion of all people really needs to hear that tbh.

Astarion is also someone who struggles with reinforcing his boundaries, and a key theme in Lae'zel's romance is that she encourages and wants you to challenge her and learn to stand your ground. It's not gentlest method, but hey, relationships are about having to make an effort to learn each other's language.

I think he also would take pleasure "educating her on the matters of Fay-run" (I believe there's a whole banter with him teasing her and teaching her pet names) and would get a kick out of coaxing Lae'zel out of her shell with her shyness at showing public affection, and making her blush. Also it simply would be fucking funny to see Astarion who's used to easy seduction, trying to pass a persuasion check just to get a smooch and generally having to work to earn regular kisses from Lae'zel lmfaooo

Lae'zel also initially struggles to see her chains as chains. When she learns about Vlaakith's betrayal, she copes instantly through denial and shuts it down. Astarion is NOT having it and calls her out, he knows her well enough to recognize that she would value blunt honesty above all.

I imagine he also despises her lack of self-preservation, the way her entire identity is tied to duty and being in service of others, and doesn't understand her desire to still help/liberate the people that want her dead and are hunting her down. He wants to make this duty-bound soldier realize that looking out for herself, and putting herself first may not be the worst thing in the world.

They're so similar to each other but are also polar opposites in some ways that make a more equal, balanced romance I think. It's not a simple, one-sided, feel-good "she/he can fix her/him" fantasy because both of them have to earn each other's love, actually cut through the other's flaws, and actively motivate each other to be better versions of themselves.

They're not at all the other's ideal guiding hand. It's rough, jagged, and imperfect, but that's how healing goes. It's so far from being the healthiest relationship -- but even if their belief systems differ, their moral compass does often align. I imagine it's a slight relief for them to have a partner where there would be less shame and judgment when they expectedly, occasionally slip up and fall into their bad habits.

Also, man, the "You showed me the betweens and beyonds. Beyond war and peace, beyond passion and obsession, most importantly, you showed me freedom.", "First you were my wound, now you were my cure.", "But you saw something else in me - someone else I could be. Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago.." lines really hit hard when applied to them.

Of course, they can also make each other worse, feed into the other's negative traits that will bring out the worst part of themselves. It's this duality of their pairing that is very interesting to explore, the way it can steer in either direction because it's an intense, fraught relationship at its core.

[ozzgin]

Girl I love Daitou but I'm ngl I need more of Yazuya😭 if you can, can you write headcanons about him please? I'd appreciate it thank you <3

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader Headcanons

Ultimate dating guide and palate cleanser featuring the gangster boys (Kazuya and Daitou). For those that have been left hanging for proper romance.

Content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

Tags: @swagbucksjester @lucienbarkbark @moonieper @nu-vino @vee-love @tamaki-simp @pinkazelma

[Yakuza Masterlist]

Kazuya

Kazuya was raised in a brothel, surrounded by women, so he is much more knowledgeable than the average man when it comes to feminine matters. Similar to someone who grew up having sisters, you can talk to him about anything and everything and not only will he be empathetic towards your problems, but he might offer tips and tricks you didn’t even know about. Not too shocking when he’s already heard multiple variations of whatever is bothering you.

The downside to his upbringing is that intercourse has always felt terribly transactional to him. He has a hard time associating it with intimate relationships. He will flirt a lot with you, but despite all the sexual innuendos, he won’t actually do anything until later in the relationship. He struggles with the irrational worry that sex will somehow taint the quality of your bond, making it feel cheap. Dating you has helped him realize that such things can be done out of love as well.

He is extremely affectionate and well mannered when dealing with you. Which may sometimes cause you to forget there’s a reason him and Daitou are good friends. While he isn’t as ill-tempered as his younger self, it doesn’t take much to anger him still. It’s a rare occurrence for you to witness it, but when he has it out for someone, he nearly matches Daitou in ruthlessness. He's very prideful and protective and will not hesitate to crush whoever challenges him or messes with you.

If you have a group of (girl)friends, you can confidently bring him with you with the only risk being that he’ll steal your spotlight. He can charismatically slide his way into any kind of conversation and you can hardly believe that this is the same man cracking gross jokes over his latest murder to his fellow criminal buddies. You might consider him a social chameleon, having no trouble adapting to any environment.

Smokes like a chimney and you have to slap the cigarette out of his hand sometimes because he’ll just light one up anywhere (including your bedroom).

Now this one is for the ones that are into it: God forbid you accidentally call him Daddy because he’ll ride that high until the end of time. He loves the idea and will tease about it with every opportunity. “Terrible weather today. Should Daddy drive you to work instead?”, or “Is that any way to talk to Daddy?” for when you’re out in public.

Daitou

One neat detail about being with Daitou is that you get to see a lot of things you took for granted in a new light. Whatever you assumed was a common experience for everyone, like having a picnic or going to the amusement park, is utterly foreign to him. He was raised by the Yakuza and barely interacted with anyone before meeting Kazuya; civilian past times were never presented to him. So you get to witness his shocked and delighted expression as he tries all these things with you.

Thankfully you don’t have to worry about teaching him the…intimate aspects of a relationship. Kazuya has that covered. And Daitou seems to be a rather fast learner, because he’s incredibly gentle and careful with you. Part of it is due to his own fear of messing it up. He’s only ever been good at breaking and killing people. Despite that, he loves you so much. He has to be the best boyfriend for your sake. Surely these hands of his can do more than just damage.

He might actually be a little too eager to learn the ropes. More than once you’ve walked in on him reading a graphic manga and nearly choked, mumbling an apology for interrupting his…activity. He’ll look at you with a confused expression, completely unbothered and wondering why you’re so embarrassed. He was flipping through the pages for ideas, given he’s never had any kind of experience himself. Ah. That explains the random kinky gestures he’s started doing without shame or doubt. You’ll have to do some tweaking in the near future.

This may come as a surprise, but Daitou is exceptionally good at household chores like cleaning and cooking. Registering with the Yakuza involves a mandatory apprenticeship of several years where you do menial tasks for your higher ups. Additionally, the time he served in jail has left him with a lot of discipline and organization. Somewhere between adorable and comical is how you’d describe the sight of him kneeling on the floor and carefully folding the kitchen towels while waiting for the stew to simmer.

Daitou isn’t exactly what you’d traditionally call jealous. His only frame of reference is Boss, thus he will treat you with the same kind of loyalty and dedication. You wouldn’t expect a mere nobody to walk up to the Head of the Family, so anyone approaching you will, similarly, be violently kept away until their intentions are clear. You are his most prized possession, after all. He’d do anything for you.

[cookinguptales]

So… I’ve been turning all this over in my head since last night, and I wanted to make a post about vampiric transformation as sex, and how it’s being used in wwdits as a metaphor for sexual repression, sexual freedom, virginity, and cuckolding.

Before I even get into the obvious metaphors about virginity and cuckolding, I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Guillermo’s sexual repression and how that’s come to find an outlet in his vampiric longing.

Guillermo is highly repressed, sexually speaking, but I don’t think he’s asexual. He’s shown interest in sex several times, but in an uncomfortable “this can’t be for me yet” kind of way. He was clearly raised Catholic and has internalized a lot of that shame re: sex, especially gay sex. He wants intimacy, but he’s also internalized the idea that wanting these things is dangerous and shameful.

But… the vampiric world seems to symbolize all the things that Guillermo wants but cannot have. He wants to be strong, powerful, attractive, and sexually liberated. As much as their openness about sex embarrasses him, there’s a certain longing there, too. He didn’t just want to be handsome as a vampire — he explicitly used the word “sexy.”

A vampiric Guillermo is a version of Guillermo that gets to have sex. Loudly, proudly, and without shame. It’s a version of him that is wanted, that wants, and who gets to have the precise kind of intimacy he's always craved.

Now, how much Guillermo has actually done sexually is still up for a lot of debate in fandom, but I think that’s kind of immaterial. For most of the show, Guillermo clearly wasn’t having the kind of intimacy that he wanted to be having, and he only started to even begin to allow himself to seriously consider all that in s4, when he got a boyfriend and came out to his family.

As being gay and wanting to be a vampire. 

Guillermo is finally starting to own both his homosexuality and his vampiric life, and that means he’s finally starting to explore sex.

Now… At the end of s4, I talked about how Guillermo going to Derek in the finale had the air of a person who’d been fantasizing about losing their virginity in a certain way all their life — but then they finally give up on those dreams and hire a sex worker instead. There’s a resignation there in Guillermo that he couldn’t get it “the old-fashioned way,” he’s disappointed and jaded when it comes to intimate relationships, and now he’s tired of waiting for love and just wants a business transaction.

I wasn’t quite expecting for them to push that metaphor even more in s5! The money aspect was almost forgotten (Did… Derek even take the money? Why is he still cleaning toilets?) but the scene with Derek biting Guillermo was clearly a metaphorical virginity scene.

Guillermo’s nervous eagerness, his growing realization that this wasn’t actually the way he wanted it to happen. Asking Derek if he’d ever done this before and figuring out if he was “ready.” Taking off his clothes (that his grandmother got for him, even, that’s a whole meta post right THERE) and trying to make the vibe “right.” His insistence that though Nandor had never done this for him, they still had a caring and intimate relationship.

But… it was also a metaphor for bad sex. Many people lose their virginity in a way they don’t find satisfying, and Guillermo definitely seems to fall in this category. It was awkward, it was bloody, it hurt, his partner didn’t listen to him, they weren’t on the same wavelength, they didn’t connect, there was no emotional bond, and most importantly, he didn’t feel changed.

Like a lot of people do, Guillermo thought losing his virginity would change him. He’d be cooler, sexier, more powerful. His station in life would change. He’d become an adult his ideal form. But he’s still just Guillermo.

As he told Laszlo, as soon as he did it, he regretted it. He immediately knew that he’d been right, that this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. He wanted to do it with someone experienced who loved and cared about him, who listened to him, and he wanted that person to be Nandor. But he wasn’t patient, he paid an inexperienced acquaintance for a one-night-stand instead, and he was left feeling deeply unfulfilled.

Most upsettingly, he immediately discovered that, like virginity, you can’t lose it twice. He can’t just have a do-over with Nandor now. He’s given something up that he can’t give to anyone else, and he’s going to have to live with the consequences.

Because like sex for humans, transformation has social implications in the vampire world. It can only be done in very specific situations. Guillermo seems to have grown up in a human world where sex should only be happening within a heterosexual marriage, and now he’s finding that in the vampire world, transformation is only supposed to happen between a master and familiar currently in a contractual bond.

So… him going to Derek and finding “outlet” in another relationship, so to speak, is effectively vampirically cuckolding Nandor. He’s given that honor to another vampire, which Nandor seems to find both vampirically humiliating and personally hurtful. It would in fact hurt him so badly that he would probably not survive it, in Laszlo’s words.

(There’s also definitely an element of an abusive “if I can’t have you, no one can” vibe in Nandor’s threat to kill Guillermo and then himself if Guillermo got what he needed from another vampire, but since when have we ever liked them well-adjusted?)

Guillermo is realizing that, as much as he’s been thinking of this in sexual terms, so have the vampires. He thought he was the only one who thought it was a big deal. He thought he was the only one placing intimacy and partnership and loyalty into this event. But now he’s realizing that as much as it meant to him, it might have even been a bigger thing for Nandor.

For Guillermo, vampirism-as-sex represents the idealized transformational aspects of losing your virginity. He’d built up this big event in his mind that represented his intimate bond with Nandor, he’d built up this idea that the event would change him, would make him better, would make him free. But he’s finding, like many first-timers do, that sometimes it’s not transformational. It’s just awkward and disappointing and the only thing that’s changed is that you ache in the morning.

He still doesn’t have the intimacy he wanted. He still doesn’t have the ability to be loudly himself. He still hasn’t been able to fully own his sexuality and ask for what he wants. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t enjoy it. He regrets it.

He also regrets it because now he knows it will hurt Nandor and the relationship they’ve built. Because for Nandor, vampirism-as-sex represents the societal aspects of sex. The rules people follow. The societal humiliation you feel if you’re cuckolded. The personal agony you feel when you’re cheated on. The sense that your home is broken if your partner goes to find satisfaction with someone else.

Guillermo, who has had to deal with societal disapproval of his desired type of sex in the human world his whole life, was viewing vampiric transformation as a way to be free of all that. The shame and the repression and the societal penalties for being himself.

But he’s just found himself in a mess of new rules, hasn’t he? Different culture, same struggle. And while the vampiric world has always symbolized a sexual liberation that both repulses and attracts Guillermo, he clearly doesn’t have as much freedom here as he thought.

So… to sum up, Guillermo always kind of thought of transformation as losing his virginity. He associated vampirism with sex, and he thought this would be his entrance into the sexual world. He wanted to have an intimate experience with Nandor, but eventually gave up on that and decided to pay for it — and then immediately regretted it, both because he found it personally dissatisfying and because it came as a betrayal to the man he loves.

The problem is that he thought he was the only person thinking of it as sex — he didn’t realize that Nandor does, too, just in a very different way.

Nandor was also thinking of vampiric transformation as this special act, and one that belongs only to him as Guillermo’s master/partner. He was thinking of it in intimate terms, but also in societal partnership terms. He’s thinking of his household, while Guillermo was thinking of things on more individualistic terms.

If only they’d both talked about all this shit even once. :’)

But that’s not how we do things here in Staten Island!!! We just long for things ineffectively, keep secrets, and fuck everything up!

(There’s also a whole thing here about how Nandor wasn’t keeping his side of the relationship bargain and that’s why Guillermo looked elsewhere in a moment of weakness, but I guess that’s probably a separate post. This is long enough already.)

[callsign-rogueone]

stay

fwb!Liam Mairi x gn!reader words: 1.9k 🏷: no book spoilers. gender neutral reader. mentions of sex but it's purposely left vague, though it's implied that Liam does most of the work there. a bit of miscommunication (because all dragon riders are allergic to talking about their feelings), both of you are in love but neither of you think that the other person wants a relationship, this is the tipping point, Liam is such a cutie baby I love him sm, soft happy ending <3

Liam Mairi is a perfect gentleman, which of course, makes him an excellent lay. He always makes sure that you’re satisfied before he is, always gentle with you and always asking for consent, even if it’s something you’ve done before.

You’d asked him about that once, curious.

“Just because it was okay once doesn’t mean it’s always okay,” he’d answered, a little bashfully. “I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

You are never, ever uncomfortable with him. Quite the opposite, actually. He manages to liquefy you every time, to drain every drop of stress from your body and leave you in a soft heap on his mattress, to be scooped up into his lap and molded into a real person again by the gentle pressure of his arms around you, his hand stroking your hair while he murmurs soft assurances that you’re safe and tells you how pretty you are.

Two nights a week, he takes you apart just to put you back together again, making you whole — but it never lasts until morning. Like the fairy tales you'd read as a child — at the stroke of midnight, the magic fades. Only instead of a princess turning back into a housemaid, you go from feeling like the person he treasures most in the world to a complete stranger.

That much isn’t his fault.

You’re in too deep, and you know it. You’ve been over your head for more than a month now — since the first time you hooked up. You’d never felt that good in your life. But for some stupid reason that you can’t even name, after you’d come back down to earth, you decided that you weren’t going to spend the night, that you couldn’t. 

And so you never have. You’ve hooked up precisely sixteen times over the last two months, sometimes in your room, sometimes in his, one time in the showers; that had certainly been an experience. But never once have you fallen asleep together.

That’s the one part of your dynamic that you’d never talked about. Everything else required semi-detailed conversations about consent, boundaries, being exclusive (neither of you ever sleep with anyone else, even though you’ve agreed that you’re not exclusive), but you’ve never discussed staying the night. After your vanishing act on night one, he’d assumed that you would never want to stay the night, and that you wouldn’t want him to stay either.

So here you are again, wrapped up in his arms, planning your escape, as if there’s anything you could possibly want more than to remain like this forever. 

But it’s not about what you want. Life is never about what you want.

You start to get up to look for your clothes, but he wraps a strong arm around your hips, pulling you back against his chest and nuzzling his nose into your neck with a sleepy whine. “Don’t go yet.”

You laugh softly. “Fine, I’ll stay.”

You feel him still beside you, loosening his grip. “You don’t have to,” he adds quickly. “I understand if you want to leave.”

You roll over, turning to face him. He’s absolutely adorable — hair mussed, cheeks pink with embarrassment as he realizes that he’s implicated himself here, that he’s admitted that he wants you to stay, because he wants more than you’ve been willing to give him.

You’re not supposed to stay. That’s the whole point of friends with benefits. It’s supposed to be strictly transactional — a body for a body, pleasure for pleasure, nothing more. Take what you need and leave. 

You’re terrible at this whole thing, both of you. 

You’re not supposed to cuddle after, but Liam is too sweet to just abandon you immediately after a roll in the sheets. He always makes sure you’re okay, lets you rest your body against the soft muscle of his chest for a while, until he’s sure that you’re in a good headspace again. But what’s an appropriate amount of aftercare for two people who aren’t in love?

And you definitely aren’t supposed to stay the night.

That’s been the one thing that you do correctly every time. You always duck out after you’ve both caught your breath and made a shameful amount of eye contact, looking at each other, memorizing them — somehow that always feels so much more intimate than the actual sex.

His eyes are bottomless oceans that you’ve been treading water in, but you don’t know how much longer you can go on like this, with no land in sight.

He’s always worried when you leave. To be fair, it isn’t very safe out in the dorm hallways, especially late at night, but in an effort to keep this casual, to keep yourself from drowning, you’d reassured him that you’re both trained fighters, your rooms only are a minute’s walk apart, lit by mage light, and he can see danger coming from a literal mile away with his signet. You’ll both be fine.

And so, whoever came over is the first to leave, getting dressed quietly and heading out with as few words as possible, slipping down the hallway back to their own room, where they’ll shower and get ready for bed, thinking about the other person all the while.

Sometimes, when it’s your bed you’re using, you’ll pretend to be asleep until he leaves — you don’t do goodbyes, because they hurt too much. And in this death trap of a school, saying goodbye to anyone feels like jinxing it, finalizing the end of your relationship and giving Malek permission to take you away forever. You’ve always been a little superstitious like that. 

You aren’t great at the friends part either. You don’t interact much during the day. You’re friendly, sure, but you aren’t friends. You get along well whenever you’re grouped up for anything, offering each other a smile and a small wave when your paths cross, but that’s the extent of it.

You can’t help but smile every time you look at him. That should have been a warning sign. 

“I do want to stay,” you whisper after what feels like an eternity, looking up into those beautiful blue eyes.

“Okay,” he says shyly. 

You cuddle deeper into his side, tucking your head into his neck and closing your eyes, because that’s easier than talking. 

Laying with him has always been easy. You fit together like puzzle pieces, interlocking tightly but not too tightly. Always comfortable, never forced.

He wraps his arms around you again, laying a kiss to the top of your head. “Get some sleep,” he encourages.

You wake to bright sunlight hitting your face, and you whine in complaint, turning your head away from the window — into the firm muscle of Liam’s chest.

Oh, shit. Had you fallen asleep on him, trapping him here, and he was too nice to disturb you, to wake you up and kick you out?

No, you remember, this was mutual. You’d done the usual cuddling-and-affirmations thing and then you’d fallen down that slippery slope, somehow agreeing to spend the night.

It’s been years since you last slept a full eight hours straight — you don’t really do that anymore. But you don’t remember waking up in the middle of the night, either. Is he awake? Maybe you can slip away without waking him if you’re quiet and you…

“Morning,” he greets, his voice raspy and low with sleep. 

Holy shit, that’s hot. You want to hear that first thing in the morning, every morning.

“Morning,” you respond shyly, as if you aren’t both almost completely naked in his bed. 

“You sleep okay? Xaden says I snore, but I don’t believe him.”

“Yeah, I… I slept well. I didn’t hear any snoring. I was totally out.”

“Good.”

Another awkward pause. Time to be brave. 

“Liam?” you ask softly, gazing across his shoulders at the beginning of his relic, where it curls over his collarbone. “I don’t know a better way to ask this, but… what are we?”

“What do you want us to be?” he asks carefully. He’s loosened his grip on you again, like he did last night. He’s prepared to rip the bandage off. You should be, too.

You should be a lot of things. 

“I asked first,” you say, like a child. 

You close your eyes, taking mental inventory of where you’d scattered your clothes last night, and which pieces you can go without if you have to sprint down the hallway to the safety of your own room, should he not tell you what you need to hear.

He takes a breath before he responds — a deep one, that makes your body rise and fall with his. “Last I checked, we’re friends with benefits, but if you wanted to… we could be more than that. Life’s too short to not chase what you want.”

“Is that what you want? More?” you ask in a whisper.

“It is. It has been for a long time now. I thought I was okay with just being fuck buddies, but I care about you, deeply, and I want to be with you all the time — not just in this room, naked.”

You laugh, holding him a little tighter. “I do very much enjoy being in this room with you, naked. But I’d also like to be able to hold your hand in the hallways and go on dates and whatever couples are supposed to do.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

You scoot up to be at eye level with him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, swallowing — his eyes not leaving yours.

“You getting all shy on me now, Mairi?” you ask, boldened by the blush on his cheeks. “You certainly weren’t last night.”

He reddens further. “I’m just trying to decide if this is real, or if I’m still dreaming,” he says softly.

That’s damned adorable. 

“How about I kiss you to check? That always seems to wake people up in fairy tales.”

“That would be nice.”

“Okay then.”

You lean down, nudging your nose against his for a moment before you lean in, connecting your lips in a lazy kiss.

He sighs softly, bringing a hand up to rest on your back, holding you in place.

You pull back for air after a moment, but keep your foreheads pressed together. “What do you think?” you ask. “Still dreaming?”

“No,” he answers, a little breathless. “Definitely not dreaming.”

“Good.”

Another quiet moment — a comfortable one, this time.

“It’s Saturday,” he says. “We could sleep until noon if we wanted.”

“Start making up for all the times we didn’t actually sleep together.”

He laughs, a warm, low sound like summer thunder from miles away. “Sounds like a plan, then.”

You settle back down against him, fitting yourself under his arm. He pulls you a bit closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

Talking feels safer now than it did before, when you were both constantly worrying that anything you said would expose the feelings that you weren’t supposed to have. 

You trace your fingers over the smoky pattern winding up his forearm, speaking softly. “I know you must have bad feelings about it, but I’ve always thought it was beautiful.”

“Not all bad,” he says after a moment. “It’s the last piece I have of my mom. She was the one who made the runes that marked us all. They’re supposed to protect us, but I’m not really sure how. I never got to ask.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say quietly, your fingertips stilling.

“I never know how to respond when people say that,” he admits.

“You don’t have to say anything at all,” you tell him, your eyes drifting shut. “We’re good at that.”

He rubs a hand up and down your back gently. “Yeah. We are.”

[dyssonant-skyline]

Full Moon Spoilers: The Final Scene

I have some thoughts.

Okay let me start with saying, the Stolas & Blitzo conversation should not have been relegated to the last 5 minutes of the episode. I think the rushed nature of the conversation doomed any chance of it being a satisfying exchange between these two characters that covers the full reality of their situation. I’m listing this up front because a lot of my grievances could have been resolved with more time, which the team spent on 15 minutes of lead up that I believe were ultimately unnecessary to the show's central plot and actively hinder the direction the showrunners want the story to go in.

During the episode he acknowledges that Blitzo is in a horrible situation. He states that the deal was wrong, implicitly acknowledging guilt for thrusting it unto Blitz and trying to resolve that by giving him the Azmodean crystal. He has decided to end things, and goes through with it even though he displays clear interest in Blitzo’s advances.

Then what does he do when Blitzo assumes that Stolas hasn’t changed? When Blitzo believes that Stolas, the person who he has only had transactional relations with, is setting up a new kind of transaction? 

Instead of further ensuring Blitzo and trying to clear the air. He throws a tantrum. When things didn’t immediately resolve in his favor. Then he immediately goes into blaming Blitzo for only thinking about sex in their, again, transactional relationship. This gets worse because Stolas doesn’t wait to establish a healthy non romantic/sexual relationship before insinuating that he is still interested in Blitzo sexually, opening Blitzo up to misunderstanding his intent… then not being willing to clarify his intent.

“I have wanted you for so long, the fact that you couldn’t believe that I might have these feelings about you, that your first instinct is that it’s always about sex… that’s enough to know what this is.”

My brother in christ, you confront him about this during the sex deal night and don’t expect him to expect sex? You give him ~10 seconds to react to this information before deciding you don’t want to deal with his emotions anymore because they aren’t what you wanted?

The monologue that Blitzo had after that was completely justified and extremely gratifying to hear.

“Fuck you Stolas! You spring this feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding?” - “Can I get a fucking minute to think after everything you put me through?” - “You can’t just dismiss me like that.”

After that sincere outburst, instead of Stolas recognizing what Blitzo is saying and taking some accountability or apologizing… he reacts with

“I didn’t realize you think so low of me.”

HUH? What happened to the transactional deal not being right? Surely if he knows he isn’t right, he knows that Blitzo would probably have a pretty low opinion of him? Breaking the deal doesn’t make his victim required to forgive him, especially not within 5 minutes.

Sidenote but: Stolas’s desire for immediate reconciliation is compounded by the fact that Stolas buries the lead at the beginning of their conversation. He keeps things vague with statements like “I need [the grimoire] back permanently” and “I’ve made up my mind” that lead Blitzo to believe he is being fired. I don’t really believe that the way that Stolas talks here speaks to his character, it reads more like bad writing in favor of a misunderstanding to get Blitzo worked up. It doesn’t seem in character to dwell like this, you could argue it is nerves but I’d argue there is no positive reaction to those first few sentences and Stolas isn’t socially inept enough to fail to realize that.

Honestly, if they were gearing up to have Stolas as a villain still and if Blitzo hadn’t had an apology cut off, I would have loved this exchange as it characterizes Stolas as a villain very well. It shows that Stolas still doesn’t care about Blitzo, just the version of Blitzo he has built in his head in excruciating detail. It shows that despite Stolas trying to make amends through words and actions, he still can not face the hurt that he has caused his victim and will run away when confronted with them. Unfortunately I’m pretty sure the writers are just going to make Blitzo into the one that Stolas hoped would fall into his arms immediately. So whatever.

[ms-cartoon]

So, I'm looking at the trailer and hear Stolas say something like this . . .

"This transaction between us . . . i-it's not right anymore. I just want someone to care for."

I'm gonna assume he's talking about the exchange of the grimoire for sex with Blitzo. The deal that HE made in the first place????

Okay, first off- What do you mean, it's not right anymore?? NOT ONCE has it EVER been right! Making someone satisfy your pleasures in exchange for giving them something that's impossible to have and you never intended on giving them in the first place unless it benefits you somehow. That is called EXPLOITATION! Children . . . exploiting someone is NEVER a good thing! No matter how badly you want something to happen, it's never good to make someone do something against their will, and Stolas NEVER considered this! And even if he did, I doubt he would've cared!

Why is he suddenly caring now?

Because this is just another way for Viv to throw another Stolas pity party and she needs some kind of tension between Stolas and Blitzo so that their relationship can feel earned later. I think I have a pretty good feeling on what they're gonna make season two about.

This is gonna turn back into the "Stolitzo show" where we focus on the supposed "romance" between Stolas and Blitzo. How are they gonna go about it? Well, I think what's gonna go down is, instead of Stolas being in the wrong for how he treats Blitzo, they're gonna make the latter the bad guy for how he "treats" Stolas. Because blah blah blah, Blitzo doesn't love Stolas back, blah blah he's not considerate of Stolas's feelings for him, blah blah he's being mean, blah blah, he needs to give Stolas a chance. And at the end of the day, Blitzo is gonna feel all sorry and realize he loves Stolas, he apologizes to Stolas, the two are endgame and they live happily ever after! I'm calling it right now! With the way Stolas said what he said above, he's gonna make it seem like he's trying to reason with Blitzo saying the deal for the book is a bad idea as if HE wasn't the one that called Blitzo that one night and made that deal.

Do Viv or the writers ever THINK before writing these down??

Rhetorical quetion.

Edit (4/29/24) It makes no sense for Stolas to suddenly feel regret for this exchange as well as his feelings for Blitzo because of it. In season 1 he went from "Oh Blitzy! You're so hot! Let's have sex!" to "I'm actually genuinely in love with you Blitzo. Let's not do this anymore. I want to take this seriously." Out of nowhere.

Like-- In episode 6, he was lustful for Blitzo and made out with him by the end of the ep, and then suddenly the next episode, he's feeling all lonely and is innocently having feelings for Blitzo. WHERE DID ALL THAT COME FROM?? There was no ounce of development within those episodes!

[xodarling]

can you plsplspls write something with the reader realizing she might actually be falling for rocker!beidou and hating herself for it but she can't stop?? pls on my knees (like during mid-fuck maybe or during aftercare)

sorry, i don’t want your touch. - xodarling

includes: fem!reader, this is barely smut focused, but it does have smut, angst idk, fluff kinda, riding, handjobs, making out, love confessions, comfort, crying, blowjob, dom!beidou, toxic relationship, happy ending yippee, down bad!beidou, ooc beidou prob, horrible standards

a/n: NO. fine. this is SOOO out my comfort zone so sorrgy if it sucks (it does suck)

beidou just… aggravated you to no end. she has this dumb smile on her every time she sees you and her eyes just light up when you make eye contact. just insufferable! the fact that the sex in this what was supposed to be transactional relationship was amazing made your anger so much worse.

after the marathon of fucking in her garage, beidou really took the time out of her day to care for you. despite, her legs being wobbly and her soul being drained. she cared for you, she ran you a bath and ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant, as a lover would do. it infuriated you to no end how she seemed so selfless in this relationship.

cuddling was nice. it’s been almost a week since the garage and your mind hasn't forgotten beidou’s pampering. always thinking about it, analyzing every detail of those memories. how she treated you like you were made of porcelain, how she kissed every mark she left on you, the way she held you, and how she whispered in your ear until you fell asleep. each thing she did made you angrier.

but why? most would love being treated like this by the bassist. girls love her, yet she chose you. it got you mad, like always.

sex was the one thing about her that didn't make you enraged. she was good at using her dick and you would gladly take it. it became common to have sex regularly, it was useful, it put your mind off your hatred for her and it felt good, double win. like now, the two of you swapping spit on her bed, both of your hands under clothing and caressing each other.

her compliments made you sick to your stomach, the way she cooed at your whimpers and chuckled when you bucked your hips, it was all so annoying. “you’re cute.” she whispered into your ear, pecking your cheek as you pumped your hand up and down her shaft. her pants were pulled down enough so her cock could be exposed, its shape was the only thing you liked about her, right? right.

the two of you lying down next to each other felt romantic, her arm around your shoulder felt protective, and her gaze on you was soft. even as you grope her cock with your hand, beidou shows nothing but love for you. it’s obvious she sees sex as something between two lovers, nothing like how you do. god, how insufferable this hopeless romantic is.

“am i?” you question teasingly. “of course you are.” ew. internally, that made you gag, but you didn't show it. instead, you slither down the bed to be at eye-level with her dick. your lips press themselves onto her tip, humming at the taste of her pre-cum. beidou groans at your kisses, your lips are soft against her skin, and it feels good. one of her large hands goes to the back of your head. part of you wants her to grab your scalp and fuck you like a common whore. but she doesn't.

she treads her fingers through your hair, looking down at you with a sort of gaze only seen in those vintage romance movies. you quietly sigh and wrap your lips around her tip, lowering your head further and further down her length, till your lips reach the base of it. even as you deepthroat, bob your head ferociously, and gag on it, she still treats you with kindness, with love.

“god, yes...” she sighs, smiling to herself. her other hand goes down to hold your own, embracing your fingers with her calloused ones. your lips and throat feel like heaven around her cock, it was warm and wet, and it felt a million times better because you were sucking her off, not some random groupie, you. your abdomen tensed up, the love that she felt toward you was like no other, and that made her orgasm hurl towards the end.

she lets out a guttural groan, arching her back as her tip began to pour out cum. you push your head all the way down to the base, eagerly swallowing all of her seed. there was a lot of it, her eyes were screwed shut as she grunted with each rope. after a few more seconds, it stopped, and she sighed out of relief. that stupidly handsome smile formed on her face again, and she chuckled some more.

“you were always so good at doing this.” she sighed, letting go of your head and hand, “but i think i want more.” her eyes had a glint of playfulness in them, she stared at you like you were her sun, her moon, and her stars, she treated you like you were a deity. she sits up, resting her back against the headboard of the bed.

you licked up a few stray drops before sitting up as well. a smile was on your lips, but you weren't happy to be with her. she made you warm, but it wasn't an in-love kind of warm, it was an angry one, you think. “oh, yeah?” you raise your eyebrows, “i think i can help you with that.” your hands get placed on your shoulders, gripping them so you could maneuver yourself to be right on top of her erection.

you impatiently sat down on her dick when your eyes met, she always has that stupid look in her eyes, and you wanted to rip her face off. the pleasure of impaling yourself took your mind off the anger, you let out a moan while she sighed again. her hands went to your waist as you began your riding. no words were spoken between you two. good, just how you like it.

your arms slithered around her waist as you rode her ferociously, skin slapping against skin loudly. your head was thrown back in pleasure, she was so big it made you forget everything in your life, all your worries. it was just the pleasure beidou’s cock made you feel. your train of thought was cut off by beidou’s lips wrapping around your nipple, gently sucking on the sensitive bud.

even as you rode her aggressively, she still kept her touch soft, like you would break if she went too hard. you huffed and went harder, the pleasure was doing a horrible job of masking the anger, so you got more desperate. your mind went to how she felt inside of you and how big she was, her tip ramming into your g-spot with each bounce. it felt good, being fucked like this, without needing to think.

your mind went blank, the pleasure took over again. the feeling of beidou’s cock took it all away, your riding her and sucking was driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. you wanted it. you needed it. and you were so close, it felt so good. your moans got higher and higher, your nails dug into her skin and your muscles were tensing up. oh, so close.

“you look so pretty right now.” that husky voice whispers, you widen your eyes when you hear it and you’re met with the sight of a woman, a woman pathetically in love with another. all of a sudden, that warm feeling was gone, despite your continued riding. your eyes met hers, her irises looked gentle, like a puppy’s or some innocent animal that knew nothing but to love. and it got you furious.

all of a sudden, that sweet euphoric high you were chasing disappeared. your bouncing stopped and the slick between your thighs now felt cold and uncomfortable. your stomach twisted in disgust at the harsh realization, your brain didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to accept that this brute who was nothing but muscle had your heart right in her rough palms.

you remember how her eyes would look for you through every crowd her band had performed to and lit up when she saw you. you remember how on the first valentine’s day after your relationship was official she went above and beyond for you in all things romantic. you remember all the times she protected you, how she kissed you, held you. you… loved it.

everyone around you saw you as no good. a burden. a gold digger, a narcissist, someone not to associate with. it was foreign to be treated so nicely and be shown love… care, and affection. beidou didn't mind your fits or insults, she would take all your attitude with a big smile on her face and a bouquet already ready in her hands. your mind is running rampant, and it makes all you're trying to hide and push down feel more real, more intense.

your eyes began to water. beidou deserved better, you knew this. she deserved more than some gold digger who only cared about herself, she deserved more than you. she needed someone who loved her and wasn't afraid to admit it. she deserved someone who could give you more than you ever could. no matter how hard you tried. with the way she looked at you, you had no choice but to process your feelings, and they hit you like a ton of bricks.

you felt horrible about yourself. what the hell are you doing? using this hopeless romantic for sex and money when all she does is love you unconditionally. beidou doesn't deserve someone as disgusting as you.

“babe… you okay?” she mutters, straightening her posture and loosening the grip she hand on your bare body. you hate her. you hate the way she has the nerve to treat you like this when all you’ve known is being pushed away. beidou noticed your discomfort, the way your arousal faded away, and began to pull out. any other asshole you fucked would keep going, but she didn't.

you look down and shake your head, “no…” you whisper, “no, i… can’t do this…” your mind is saying one thing, and your heart is saying another. you can’t accept it, out of all things, this is the one thing you cannot let happen in your life. you can’t be in love with beidou… you can’t, you just can't.

“woah… uh, it’s okay. we… we don't have to continue if you don’t wanna.” she tries her best to affirm, to give you solace. it does the opposite. her kindness was unfamiliar and it made you feel the need to put more walls up, more than the ton you already have. you huff, “just… stop..!” your mind was already everywhere, you didn't need beidou’s kindness to further infuriate you.

she opens her mouth to protest then decides against it. good. she blinked rapidly at you. you raised your voice at her, and that never happens. you clench your jaw and then start again, “what are you getting at, beidou? what’s your goal here?!” you hated her. you just wanted to punch her face mercilessly for the way she makes you feel.

“my… my goal? what do you mean?” your muscles were incredibly tense. she made you angry, “your goal in… this! what are you trying to do?! why are you being so nice!?” you push her a bit out of impulse. the two of you were still connected, her being inside you. but there were zero signs of arousal, just anger, and confusion between the two of you. “being so nice? you’re my girlfriend! why wouldn’t i treat you nicely?”

you stare at her with fury in your eyes, your heart racing sporadically, “some people are nice to each other ‘cause they like each other, not to use each other.” she says in a calmer tone, reassuring you with her hands gripping your shoulder. you can’t accept it. there’s no way, you truly thought that romance this pure was only in romance movies for losers with broken hearts.

your heart was accepting your love for her, it was warm, and it felt like something that came straight from fiction. but your brain didn't let it happen, being seen as weak, and showing love, wasn't normal for you. those tears you desperately tried to push down were climbing back up, and in an attempt to hide them, you look away.

“babe,” beidou whispers, “i love you, a lot.” her voice was soft, you found that disgusting. each attempt to push them down made them rise even quicker. your eyes quickly started to pour out single tears, little by little, beidou sighed and pulled you closer to her, head resting under her chin. “hun, it’s okay…” she murmured, combing her fingers through your hair. gentle, like how a lover should.

your mind was in turmoil, the warmth beidou gave you battling against the discomfort all of this gave you. this started as a way for money, but now it feels like it's so much more. you now craved beidou, you could easily leave, pretend she doesn't exist. but you can't, you need her. the two of you sat in silence for minutes, those were the calmest, yet most tense minutes of your life. the thoughts in your head were the only things you could fully process until the action of beidou pulling out ripped you away from your mind.

“what are you doing?” you sniffled, voice stuffy and uncharacteristically weak. “oh. i’m just assuming we won’t continue…” she says under her breath. however, her words fall on deaf ears. you lean up and stare back into her eyes. your hands cup her cheeks, eyes admiring the handsome face you loathed with all your life up until a few minutes ago.

“beidou.” you sighed. her eyes did something to you, and it wasn’t like when you were just a groupie, it was warm but not that kind of warm. you wanted to kiss her, hold her hand, go on dates with her, cuddle. you already did all those things together, but now, it didn't feel like a chore to do. you wanted to gossip about anything and talk the night away with her, you wanted her to buy you flowers and you do the same back.

“when we started dating, beidou… i thought you were obnoxious.” it felt like you were getting rid of tens of thousands of weights off your shoulders, and it was nerve-wracking saying it, but you just… couldn't suck it up anymore. if you did, you would never tell her how you felt. ever. “and i thought that i would never fall for you, that i’m just gonna use you for money and shit. but… but, you’re such a sweet person and i don’t know a lot about relationships but i know you deserve better than this…”

before she could protest, you spoke out again, “i’ve been… lying to myself and to you. you’ve made me feel things that I hated, and you’ve done it so selflessly.” your face was hot with shame and embarrassment, and your vision was blurry with tears. “i’ve just kept you around so i could spend money and get laid. but… i don't think i can just keep lying to you like this. i’m horrible for you… but i’m too selfish to let another girl have you.”

even amid this horrible confession, she still reaches up and wipes away those tears that fall. her hand was warm, and it was nice to have her show affection. “so… i’m sorry.” you cringe saying that, but it feels nice letting go of everything. “i’m sorry for lying to you, using you, and for treating you like shit. but… i love you, beidou.” dear god, if you just yesterday heard you say that you’d flip. but it’s true… you love her, even if you keep trying to gaslight yourself.

it was silent, you weren’t given any response from beidou so you were left alone with a hurricane of thoughts in your head. your embarrassment worsened by her silence. it would be great if she said something, or even gave you that cliche kiss after a confession. but, it was just silence. nothing. you nervously chewed on your lower, fiddling with the sheets on the mattress.

“cute.”

that’s all she had to say? cute? if you weren’t on the verge of a mental breakdown you would’ve slapped her so hard. but, you didn't. beidou notices the furrow in your brows and pinches your cheek, “it’s okay…” she chuckles, looking off to the side as she begins her side of the story. “y’know, i didn’t really care about the way you treated me, i thought it was kinda hot...” her eyes have an unfamiliar glint in them, and yours do too.

“so, i love you too.” she proudly smiles, her pride gleaming harshly, showcasing all of her feelings to you just from a gaze, her happiness made your brain short-circuit. apparently, what’s in those romance movies made for losers with broken hearts is true, because all you want to do is kiss her until both of you turn blue, and then some more. so that’s what you do.

your kiss was delicate, she held you and kissed you like you were made of porcelain, her rough hands keeping a possessive grip on your body. both of your lips slotted against one another, it was a perfect fit, like two puzzle pieces or like magnets. hopefully, this relationship would fit together like that as well. it’ll take time, but that time will come.

unfortunately, oxygen is needed to stay alive, so the two of you pull away. both of you look deep into each other’s irises, admiring the way one looks at the other. the stillness in the air was disrupted by you letting out a snicker, “what? what’s so funny?” beidou questions, “nothin’, just think you’re cute.” you make an excuse and cup her face in your palms, rubbing her cheekbones with your thumbs.

her eyes gaze down. oh, right. your breakdown was kind of a mood killer. “are we gonna… continue, or…?” she mutters. it takes a moment for you to decide, “how about we take a bath instead?” she hums in acknowledgment. the two of you were cold with sweat. gross, a bath would be very appropriate in a situation like this.

she huffs while standing up with you in her arms. the walk to the bathroom was filled with kisses, whispers, and small fits of laughter. it felt soft, and your attitude was nothing like what it usually was, totally unlike you. but, it felt comforting. beidou felt comforting. even in the cold bathroom, your core felt everlastingly hot because of the butterflies she gave you.

it’ll take a while for both of you to get the gist of a relationship, a healthy one at that. but learning and growing is part of the process, right? who would’ve guessed that this nimrod actually managed to steal your heart?

[frantic-fiction]

Hear me out… my TAV’s background is that she was a sex worker that was sold into the trade from a young age, and this has been her chance to break free, and she’s romancing Astarion and he’s the first person she slept with that she CHOSE to and WANTED to, and all I can think of is the “you were just a transaction” line he has… and maybe he says it to her because he freaks out and is scared of his feelings? Just something SO angsty, HEAVY groveling, happy ending??

My heart ugh you monster (I love you 🥰)

I don't write angst very often. This was incredibly fun and heartbreaking to write...and I might have gone a little too melodramatic with it. Hopefully this lives up to what you were imagining!!

Transaction

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: Angst with a slightly happy ending, implied that reader was a sex worker, if I missed anything major let me know

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

Transaction.

Transaction.

Just a transaction.

You were just a transaction.

It's a bitter realization that hits you like a cold wave crashing over your very being. How naive of you to believe that someone could see beyond your body? To look deeper than sex and find all the quirks and vulnerabilities underneath. The person who savors the taste of sweet rolls and red wine, who secretly indulges in cheesy romance novels but would never admit it out loud. The person who was forced to do unspeakable things but still stands strong in this cruel world.

You thought he understood. After all the nights spent sharing your history, baring your soul, and listening to him bear his own, you dared to hope he would be different. How could you have been so blind, so naive, to succumb to the romantic fantasy of finding someone who saw and understood the scars you carried and loved you all the same?

How could he do this? The laughter you once shared under starlight and the kisses captured behind tent flaps all feel hollow all merely a performance to win you over for his benefit alone. How could you have been so blind to his true intentions? Was it the desperation for connection that clouded your judgment, or simply the yearning for love you so desperately craved?

The signs were there. Astarion's gradual withdrawal began after the events at Moonrise Towers. You convinced yourself it was merely that the group was finally back in the city. You hoped that a night alone together would help. But hope was a fragile illusion.

Instead of finding solace in each other's arms, you are standing on the precipice of your unraveling. Each word, each action, reinforces the painful truth that you were nothing more than a pawn in his game—a transaction to be exploited for his gain. And as you grapple with the emptiness gnawing at your chest, you can't help but wonder why you failed to see it coming.

"Hey, Soldier."

The voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking slowly, you find yourself in the dimly lit confines of an alleyway, the stench of decay mingling with the chill of the night air. 

Moving like you're wading through water, you turn towards the voice. You stare blankly at Karlach, who kneels beside you with concern and caution as if approaching a frightened animal.

You sluggishly realize—you're the frightened animal.

Behind her stands Halsin, his attempt at a reassuring smile falling short in the face of your obvious distress. 

"We were getting worried about you," Karlach murmurs, her usual cheer tempered by genuine concern.

"I'm sorry," you croak, your voice raw with emotion.

You don't remember when the tears began falling, but they nonetheless stain your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Halsin assures, his voice a soothing balm to your battered soul.

Wrapped in a cloak infused with the scent of pine and honey-suckle, you allow yourself to be guided through the silent streets of Baldur's Gate, the passage of time seeming to have slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

How long have you been lost in your despair?

"He, As—" you choke on his name, the pain of his betrayal still fresh in your heart.

"You don't have to explain anything. Not to us," Karlach interjects, her hand a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

"Thank you," you whisper, gratefully.

The journey back to the Elfsong Tavern is a silent procession, your footsteps echoing in the empty streets as you grapple with the weight of your shattered reality. Once inside, you are ushered into a bed. Gale gives you a sleep draught while Shadowheart heals your shredded palms, which you didn't realize you injured in your dissociation. After that, you're left with a fleeting moment of peace.

No one mentions the absence of a familiar presence, but the void he left behind looms large in the silence that envelops you.

*

From his vantage point on the rooftops, Astarion watches as Tav is led back to the safety of the tavern. Their frail form is a stark reminder of the havoc he has wrought. Guilt gnaws at his insides, punishment for the pain he has inflicted upon the one person who saw past the facade he so meticulously crafted—the person who began to love him.

He feels sick to his stomach, the weight of his actions crushing him beneath its burden. With each passing moment, the memory of Tav's heartbroken expression sears into his mind, the irreparable damage he has caused.

Astarion wishes he could take back the venomous words that slipped from his lips and erase the pain etched upon Tav's face. He wishes he could confess the truth that lies buried beneath layers of deceit and self-preservation and admit the depth of his feelings without fear of rejection or abandonment. Pull them into his arms, kiss away the tears, and whisper all the love Tav deserves to hear.

 But wishes hold little sway when your world is governed by fear.

*

You allow yourself one day to mourn, to grieve for the shattered illusions that once held sway over your heart. But with the dawn comes the realization that there is no room for weakness. You steel yourself against the pain, burying it deep beneath a facade of strength and determination. You still have a tadpole in your skull and a city to save.

The days blur into nights, a relentless cycle of action and exhaustion that leaves little room for introspection or regret. You throw yourself into the fray, tackling each challenge with a ferocity born of desperation and resolve.

Nights, however, offer no respite from the torment that threatens to consume you whole. In the darkness, when the world is shrouded in shadows and silence, the memories come rushing back with a vengeance.

Astarion's parting words echo in the recesses of your mind, a relentless refrain that serves as a painful reminder of your naive hopes. Despite the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface, you still hope Astarion's safe. Deep down, you still care for him.

It was another restless night. You were digging through your travel pack when a hesitant knock hit the sturdy wooden door of your room. It was late, but it was not unusual for Karlach or Shadowheart to pop in and check on you. Standing up, you stowed your pack away and moved to the door. Your socked feet padded against the wooden floor. 

"Shouldn't you be asle—" The words die in your throat, and your stomach drops as you're faced with the man you've been trying to forget. 

Astarion looked terrible. His hair was a frizzy mess, curls sticking out in unruly strands. He had dark purple circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks. His clothes–the same ones he left in–were covered in a splatter of mud and grime. At that moment, Astarion had never looked more like a corpse. Where had he been?

"Tav," his voice was a whisper, laden with sorrow that pierced through the still air.

The sound of your name on his lips was like a knife twisted in an old wound, reopening the fragile scare you hastily tried to heal over the last two weeks. You recoiled instinctively, the pain of his presence threatening to ruin you all over again. You couldn't afford to unravel not again, not when so many counted on you. With wide eyes brimming with unshed tears, you turned away to flee.

But Astarion's desperation refused to be ignored. His hand shaking with uncertainty, he reached to halt the closing door. "Wait! Please, Tav," he pleaded. "I know you owe me nothing, but I beg you, let me say this, and you'll never have to see me again."

Your throat tightened, a lump choking back the bitter retorts that threatened to spill out. The impulse claws at your conscience, tempting you. Yet, the crack of Astarion's voice, the tremor of vulnerability that seeps from him, holds your tongue.

With a heavy sigh, you relented, the door inching open just enough to meet his gaze. "Two minutes," you whispered.

Astarion's relief was palpable. "Gods, Tav, I'm so sorry," he began each syllable, a testament to the regret that weighed on him. "You can hate me for eternity, and I would deserve it. But I need you to know that every word I spoke to you was a lie."

A tear traces a path down his cheek, and you long to reach out and wipe it away—to soften the turmoil on his beautiful face and erase the sorrow that consumes his glistening eyes. But instead, you tighten your fist against your thigh and stare up at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.

"I need you to know that I pursued you instinctually because I needed someone on my side, someone to trust me," he continued his voice a fragile whisper against the silence. "But then you showed me love and happiness and became so much more. You were… you are… more than I deserve. And I hurt you, and I will carry that with me forever."

"Astarion," you began, the syllables catching in your throat, suffused with a longing you dared not acknowledge. But before you could find the words again, he spoke once more, voice quivering with regret.

"I love you, Tav," Astarion confessed, the words lingering in the silent room. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but before I leave, I need you to know you are more than sex and safety. More than a Gods damn transaction."

"Astarion," 

 "And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for ruining the one good thing in—"

"Astarion!" You grab his arm, ceasing his frantic apology. You're stunned, standing on the threshold of your room, feeling more confused than ever. Love? How are you supposed to feel when the man who tore you apart is telling you he loves you?

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he meets your gaze. His eyes swim with a mix of hope and despair. 

The weight of his confession presses down on you, threatening to suffocate. Wordlessly, you walk back into the room, leaving the door open for Astarion to follow. Collapsing onto a chair, you rub your face, struggling to make sense of your raging emotions. The heartbreak and betrayal are still so fresh, but the sincerity in Astarion's regret seems to chip away at your defense. 

"I don't know what to say," 

"I… I understand," Astarion murmurs, his resignation soaking his words. I'll leave you be. I promise you won't see me again, Tav."

But as he turns to leave, the ache in your chest intensifies, the void he leaves behind widening with each step. And that moment, despite the pain, the betrayal, and your base instinct to shut him out entirely, you still care for him. Maybe even love him, too.

"Astarion, wait, you call out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. "Stay."

He freezes mid-step, his back turned to you, body tense with anticipation.

"Please," you plead, the word heavy with the weight of your conflicting emotions. "Just don't go."

Astarion slowly turns to face you, his expression a mix of disbelief and hope, his eye shining with more unshed tears. The silence stretches in the room. Hesitantly, with slow steps, he walks to the seat beside yours. The two of you sit there momentarily, unsure where that left you.

Tentatively, you reach out and take his cold hand into your warm one. "You hurt me," you start, not looking over at the man but feeling his intense stare. You betrayed my trust, and I can't just forget that."

"I understand." Astarion's shoulders slump in defeat. "I didn't expect…"

"But I care for you," You interrupt, squeezing his hand softly. "I haven't been able to stop worrying about you since you left. I don't think I can handle you leaving again."

"Okay," Astarion says, simply rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. "So what now?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to figure it out if you are?"

"There is nothing I'd like more,” he responds, pressing a tentative kiss to your knuckles.

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[comfortless]

to the anon who was talking about konig and the rule following intention thing: i love you. he seems cheeky like that. BUT i will also climb that big man and start strangling him if he entertained or led on the recruit.

idk, maybe its my rabies, but i would start whacking him grgrgrgrg. wrangle him till he acts right!!!!! (whatever that means)

i also love that anon! 🤭

Being instructed to “act right” for König is more or less the same as following any order at work. “Shoot that target.” is the very same as “Don’t glare at a stranger.” The differences between the König at home and the König on the field are subtle things. No bloodshed and rewards in the form of tenderness and orgasms instead. He’s less rigid, less focused, but still a soldier, the strangest one at that.

Everything is taken as directly as possible, because he’s not going to question any hidden meaning behind words. That’s silly. He always says just what he means, so shouldn’t everyone else?

There’s a lot he just doesn’t get, and your jealousy happens to be one of those things.

He would kill for you, lets you graze your fingertips over his favorite weapons, allows you to hold his face and even pretends that your staring doesn’t make his fingers twitch and sweat bead at his temples. König is loyal and so trusting with you… how dare you accuse him of worshipping some other woman in the same way? How could you even believe that?

Say you, his beloved, put together the pieces, realize that surely this woman is messaging your König during his leave for a reason. There’s an argument to be had, one that’s less of a screaming fit and more of a break down from both sides. You tell him through gritted teeth and tears that you know your intuition isn’t wrong: he’s done something, you just aren’t certain what that something is. There’s no outright accusation spoken, but his face immediately grows red and his eyes narrow.

It’s not that he even cares to question why you would think that way. He just wants to know where he’s failed. What is it that you need that he’s not already providing? He takes an awful picture of his cock each time he’s hard and away from you, even follows it up with one of the aftermath of thinking of you. No other woman makes him feel so starved.

He knows he isn’t very romantic; you would probably prefer actual dates instead of watching him train or following along like a cute accessory at the gym. But he brings you flowers, licks your cunt without hesitation, buys you feminine products and chocolate any time that you’re in need of them. Sure, each picnic date ends with your chest pressed against a sturdy tree or your thighs spread atop the patterned blanket, but the confessions hissed into your hair are true. It’s never just been sex, not to him. It’s love, and that’s one word he never seems to shy away from saying. He’s greedy, wouldn’t want something so simple, not after every moment you’ve spent together.

König might not get why you’re so into some new trend or show, but he listens when you talk about them. Or tries, at least. Really, he had no idea why you would bother explaining to him why you prefer a dress with wiry straps over something cozier when he arrives home, but he’s happy to just listen to your voice and shush you with kisses when he doesn’t know how else to respond.

You’re allowed access to his phone any time you like, even shows you his bank account to prove he hasn’t taken some lady a world away off on some expensive shopping trip or spent a curious amount at a pharmacy. In fact…. He’s barely spent anything while away, all of the transactions are from the last time he was on leave or at that cute little shop he had told you about and brought you home some shiny new gift from. There’s nothing suspicious to be found… except for those messages from the woman he tells you is just a recruit.

So… what if you’re just projecting?

To him, his own jealousy is righteous.

König almost looks scary when he’s upset, not that he would ever lay a hand on you. Maybe the coffee table will be in disarray, cleared entirely when the thought of you leaving proves to be far too much. His shirt suffers a few massive tears when he grips at his chest to show you just where you’re hurting him.

You may not have outright accused him, but König can’t hold his tongue when he asks you about this imaginary other man. Is he handsome? Does he buy you nice things? Does he make you come hard? How did you meet and just where does he live? Do you love him…?

König would try his utmost to hold back tears. He feels weak when he cries, and the last thing he wants is for you to view him as fragile. He’s supposed to protect you.

But it’s all gone in a flash. His entire being seems to relax when you explain to him that there is no other man. The unshed tears are wiped away, a heavy sigh leaves him when he rubs at his face. He feels like the worst idiot just stood there blinking in surprise while you’re still pissed, but at least that scenario proves to be untrue.

You just want to understand why he’s entertaining some other woman’s flirtations. Is that what telling some recruit she’s got sharp aim and allowing her to grasp at his arm and admire his muscles is..? He will admit that maybe he’s allowed her too much closeness, even if he never has and never will return her affections.

It baffles him entirely for a moment, slows his tongue enough to have a grin curl at his lips. It’s the most flattering thing in the entire world to think that you desire him so much that the thought of sharing makes you like this. The realization that maybe you’re just as territorial as he is is impossibly cute, makes him twice as obnoxious and overbearing when you’re pulled into his arms.

His voice takes an amused lilt when he asks you just what you want him to do about it. Cut her off? He’ll avoid her entirely if it appeases you. He doesn’t want to hurt a woman that isn’t an actual enemy, so killing her is certainly out of the question, but he can be scary if you would like that. She wouldn’t like him as much if she saw his face. He would remind you that only a silly thing like yourself could ever be keen on it. Your orders are absolute, so long as he still gets a treat in the end.

[lucrezianoin]

Interesting approvals from Act1 - Astarion

Trying to decipher the vampire's mind...

THE PARTY

In general, accepting to sleep with him gives you 5 approval, saying you do not want to sleep with him gives you -1.

But the strangest and most interesting one for me is this:

This is where you ask him to say "please" . He will ask "What?". At this point you can say "yes let's sleep together" which gives you no approval. Or "No, let's not" which gives you 5 of approval. If after he says please you call him a good boy and agree to sleep with him you also get 5 of approval.

That "No Astarion" gets approval but lead to this answer:

I double checked in game in case it was a typo in the notes and I got this confusing combo of "Astarion approves + disapproves" which confirms what is in the notes:

Pre convo I had 42 of approval, after it I had 46 approval. Which means that I got 5 points of approval for telling him no, after I asked him to say please, and -1 for refusing him.

We know that the "Please" he says is "through gritten teeth" (from the notes), so asking him to say please, even if it does not give the player disapproval, and allows the player to call him a good boy, is not seen by Astarion as something fun and positive. I talked about this extensively here. The option to also say "let's have sex, don't say please" also gives 5 points.

I suppose asking him to risk humiliating himself, or in general make him beg for something that he is doing to ensure his protection is not a generally positive feeling for him.

THE BITE

The most glaring one is the bite and the talk post bite.

Saying "you can feed on me", the day after, gives no approval. Instead, approving of his plan to feed on enemies, will give approval. Is this because of the connection between vampire bite and sex that the game make? Or just Astarion's desire for indipendence and not to depend from Tav? Someone wrote an amazing analysis on this, i need to find the link again.

CAZADOR + MONSTER HUNTER

In one of the Cazador's talks, the player can offer sympathies... this is not associated with any approval. For other companions, being kind to them and offering sympathy sometimes gives approval, but not for Astarion:

He is not revealing his past for apologies, he wants to be sure that Tav is aware of what is going on. What he wants is the two highlighted answers with approval: reciprocal help. An exchange that both puts him as a an equal, and makes sure that this also stays transactional.

At any point in the dialogue, telling gim that he is on his own, will be the worst possible thing. That is exactly what Astarion is trying to work against by seducing Tav.

[miraculousares]

Okay so I have some thoughts about the end of full moon and more specifically on Blitzø's rant at the end. I already posted a little analysis about how he only knows how to communicate through raw emotion, and I think that his venting is such a clear example of that. I feel like this is the most honest Blitzø has been at least in the last 15 years if not ever, and I can't stop thinking about how hard he's trying to talk openly with Stolas. So spoilers for Full Moon obviously.

*deep breath*

"What? Fuck you, Stolas! You spring this feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding?!"

As we well know, Blitzø has never felt worthy of love. He's always blown up every relationship (sorry for the pun) he's ever been in. Be it romantic, platonic, familial, even in the workplace he struggles. So the few occasions when Stolas has thrown out hints that he might love Blitzø for more than the sex, he's never been able to even process it. Stolas has never given him a clear indication that he feels anything more than horny for him and without any warning he's suddenly confessing his love in the middle of what Blitzø thought was just yet another transactional bang sesh.

"Can I get a fucking minute to think?"

Sure, Blitzø got the chance to have a genuine, in the moment conversation with Fizz, but that was nothing compared to this. He'd had 15 years to process his feelings of regret and he was someone he'd been vulnerable with before, albeit a long time ago. Here, trapped in a huge silent room with Stolas and all of his half-processed feelings that are tangled around so many other problems, Blitzø has no tools for this type of situation.

"After everything you put me through you pompous, rich asshole!"

While it hurts to say, Stolas really has put Blitzø through a lot. Aside from everything I'm gonna mention with the next line, he's hurt Blitzø time and time again. Be it covering his face at Ozzie's, humiliating him on stage at the Harvest Moon Festival, constantly degrading him and reminding him of his 'impish' lower status. It's obvious to the viewer that Stolas does care so deeply for Blitzø and that he's trying to change and atone for all of that, to Blitzø all he's done is give him space for a few months and then suddenly confess his feelings out of nowhere.

"Treat me like one of your little butler imps, you can't just dismiss me like that. I mean you royal fucks think you can do this every time. Like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!"

Okay here we go, diving into probably the biggest problem they have to tackle before they can truly accept love from one another: the class difference. Stolas' palace is crawling with imp servants who are treated as objects by the whole family and Blitzø has seen that. And then there's Blitzø, who is being treated with the respect of a living, breathing, independent-thinking demon but that's about it. He still talks down to him and goes so far as calling him his plaything on several occasions. I don't know exactly how the horns work/feel for imps, but I imagine Blitzø having a cigarette put out on his probably felt degrading at best. To Blitzø, he's providing a service for Stolas in exchange for reward, just like the rest of his servants. They both clearly know how wrong that is, but that dynamic needs to be seriously broken down from both ends before anything could possibly work between them. Blitzø is trying to do that with this line, he's trying so hard to tell Stolas how it made him feel because it hurt him but he wants to fix things.

"Well I'm not letting you, bitch! Let's go!"

Fuuuuuuuck this line hit me so hard. This whole time, he's been venting and yelling and in doing that he's sorting through how he feels. He's being confronted with something so far out of his comfort zone but instead of trying to run or hide like he usually would, he's trying to figure things out because no matter how afraid he is he clearly wants to have this conversation. He's trying to open it up to Stolas after airing out everything he was able to sort through, he's telling him that he wants to have this conversation.

"Stolas wait, I'm s-"

God this is so heartbreaking and I know a lot of people are pissed off about how Full Moon ended, I honestly think that this was perfect writing for each of these characters. Stolas has only ever been talked to in fanciful language, subtle comments, and straight abusive yelling, he doesn't know how to hear anything Blitzø is saying and instead only hears his tone and his harsh words. But Blitzø doesn't know how to communicate any other way and gah this argument/confession/breakup was exactly what they needed to push them forward to actually facing the problems between them rather than tiptoing around them

[lesbians4armand]

What is your armand/santiago headcanon like did they fuck often or only once or twice, and who topped

thank you so much for this ask, i love the dynamic between these two and never talk about them!

so my idea in my mind of what was going on between them is very much informed by Ben Daniels saying he simply could not play Santiago as straight as he just had to be in love with Armand. And I so agree with that.

I think Santiago was down TERRIBLE for Armand, like he played it like the ‘Maître’ thing was annoying at best but I think deep down he loved knowing that this older & more powerful (not to mention incredibly beautiful) vampire was in control of him, because Santiago LOVES vampirism, he really really loves it. I mean he begged his maker into turning him (and I also think Armand killing Santiago’s maker is a big thing for Santiago as well, like oh he doesn’t have power over you any more, only I do).

On Armand’s end, I don’t think this love and devotion is really reciprocated at all, which annoys Santiago (and definitely pushes Santiago to betray him when Louis gets involved, but its yet to be seen how much of a betrayal that really was). Armand uses sex as power and a way of feeling stable and safe. He says he slept with Santiago, and the other coven members as well, and I think this is his way of making himself feel safe, if he gives himself to his coven, then there is a protection there. Sex is always pretty transactional for Armand up to this point, so this makes sense.

But I don’t think Santiago sees this, he wants Armand and is in love with him, and when Armand sleeps with him this is a fulfilment of this to him, even if it is not on Armand’s part. Santiago is definitely jealous of Louis and likely the other coven members when Armand sleeps with them as well, he wants to be Armand’s FAVOURITE, but he isn’t, so takes up with Eglee and Celeste instead to fill that void.

With the actual sex between them (what you actually asked about though I’ve gone on a bit about love here, but it’s important set up), I think it’s more than once, maybe semi-regularly even before Louis shows up, but never loving or exclusive enough for Santiago. In this power dynamic he’s definitely not at an advantage here, so it could put him as submissive to Armand, but I think there are some interesting things happening here.

I see their dynamic as Armand being in control the entire time, but pretend giving up control to Santiago during sex, as he has never really known how to be in control/dominant. So I see it as they both know Armand is really in control and Santiago will do whatever he says, but in this they pretend that Santiago has control. Sub top Santiago, except he’s pretending he’s domming. Armand is the most power bottom of power bottoms anyway, it works a lot with this dynamic of Santiago wanting to have Armand all to himself, but being very much at his mercy.

Either way they’re freaks they’re having semi regular BDSM freak sex (I saw that harness Santiago don’t worry) and they’re definitely fucking in coffins. But it kind of sucks because Santiago wants more and Armand is kind of only doing it out of convenience/control.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Hiii if you’re still taking requests, could we have more angsty, jealous Javier? You write his character so good, i love all of it!!! Your married series was absolutely fantastic <3

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. The women he’s with have multiple partners beside him- they’re informants, sex workers, and a lot of times both. He’s no juvenile and doesn’t expect them to not do their job because he can��t share. Besides, there’s a clear transaction with these women- sex in exchange for dollar bills, intelligence in exchange for a visa.

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. At least he doesn’t think he is until he’s with her (the professor he ends up marrying). The relationship starts out casual. She’s a beautiful woman who frequents the restaurant he frequents. They do the decent mating dance of flirtation and buying each other coffee before he takes her back to her place and fucks her thoughts out of her head.

He makes it clear to her that he isn’t looking for something serious. He hasn’t told her the exact nature of her job, but she knows. She has seen the gun on him. She has seen him on a raid, tactical vest on and hand enclosed around his gun. She kicks him out, but only after giving him a kiss and telling him she’d like to do this again. They were on the same page. Until they weren’t.

He’s bad at drawing boundaries. He kissed prostitutes on the forehead, asked them about their young kids and ailing parents, let them drone on about their hopes and dreams. Sure it was important to cultivate a relationship with his informants so that when things got dangerous, they would continue to… inform. But he enjoyed it. He liked knowing the women he slept with, liked asking questions and answering their questions. It was the only human thing left in his life full of violence.

He cannot draw boundaries with her at all. He eats from her refrigerator, drinks her liquor and lies down on her lap and lets her read English literature to him. He picks her up from work sometimes and drops her back the morning after. He fixes her faulty plumbing without even being asked. He finds her carrying heavy bags of groceries and offers to drive her to her place. He takes her grocery shopping and restocks her fridge. He tells himself it’s because he eats so much of her food. Just repaying her.

He’s picking her up from work one night. It boils his blood to learn that he isn’t the only one waiting in the parking area for her. There’s another guy, a professor like her, and he walks with her to his car. He should’ve driven away as soon as he noticed her with another man. But he doesn’t. He stares hard enough to burn a hole in the dress she wore when he first slept with her. It was flattering on her figure, highlighting her best assets— her entire goddamn body. Clearly she wore this dress when she was hoping to get laid. He drives away before she could notice him. He finds someone else that night. Plenty of fish in the sea, right? Except he screams her name when he’s balls deep in Helena.

She’s at their restaurant the next morning, having breakfast and drinking coffee like she didn’t go fuck someone else just last night. He sits at his old table instead of joining her like he always did. She looks a little hurt by it, but quickly fixes her expression to smile at him. Good. Be hurt. He is aware he’s being irrational. And a pig. She was free to sleep with all of Bogotá if she wished. God knows he did. She wasn’t doing anything wrong just like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But he’s angry at her anyway.

Work takes him to Medellin for days and when he returns, he finds himself at her doorsteps. He feels right at home in her arms, in her pussy, and he doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to get up and leave even though everything in him is begging him to leave before it was too late. He struggles between the rational part of him that knows it’s best to leave and the irrational one that wants to pull her to his chest and fall asleep breathing her in. She makes the decision for him.

She’d asked in the nicest possible way to fuck right off. Well, not really. But she might as well have kicked him out. She asks for clarification “what are we doing, Javi?” There is it, he thinks. He was always clear about his intentions with women, but he’s had a few of them believe that they could “fix” him. Whatever the hell that meant. And he had to break their heart, tell them it was just sex like they’d originally agreed. But she surprises him.

She calls him out on his shit, tells him he’s giving her mixed signals with taking her grocery shopping and meeting her up at work. She tells him he can’t have it both ways. “I have a date with a colleague this Sunday. It’ll be weird if I’m with him, thinking about how sweet it was of you to take my car for an oil change. That’s not umm…it’s not fuckbuddy stuff.” It’s boyfriend stuff.

Her drawing the boundaries for him should’ve helped. But god it doesn’t. All he wants to do that week is walk into her university campus and punch that fucker who was taking his girl out on a date. It was stupid, dangerous and reprehensible. But fucking hell, he couldn’t do shit while thinking about her with another man. Would she let the guy fuck her in his car like she let him? Would she cry his name? Would she accidentally let a low Javi slip out of her pretty lips out of habit?

He stops visiting the restaurant. He doesn’t need breakfast anyway. He fucks other women, fucks his own fist, but none of them come close to the euphoria of being inside her, of kissing her and drinking her moans in just as he made her cum on his cock. Nobody comes close. It’s for the best. He cannot afford emotional entanglements. It was for her good that she pulled away when she did. This was no life for anyone and attaching herself to him would mean having to endure his shit.

He can’t stop thinking about her. He freezes in the middle of the fucking street with his gun pulled on some guy because he thinks he saw her in the distance. It’s not her, he knows that. She was in Bogotá and he was in Medellin. It’s not her. But he sees her in everything. He finds himself reading fiction, for fuck’s sake. He finds her panties stuffed into the cushions of his couch and smells it to get himself off. It was creepy as shit, but it’s the hardest he’s come since he stopped seeing her.

He drives by their restaurant and catches a glimpse of her having breakfast with that guy. At their restaurant, at their table. He’s filled with rage towards her new man, at her. How could she just take this guy to their restaurant and have breakfast at their table? Like he didn’t even fucking exist. How long had this been going on? Was it well before he saw them in the parking lot that evening? Did she bring him here whenever Javi was away in Medellin?

He brings another girl to his leather couch that night and tries not to think about how she could be at home right now, fucking her colleague in the same bed she fucked him. Did she ask him about his interests? Run her fingers through his hair? Touch his arms and tell him how strong he was? He wants to laugh at himself. Of course she didn’t do that last one. The fucker she was with had noodle arms. They wouldn’t satisfy her. He wouldn’t satisfy her. Javi knew her body in and out, knew all the right buttons to push, had her wrapped around his little finger and his cock.

Two months and he’s strong in his resolve. He still think about her, still keeps her panties tucked under his pillow like a low grade pervert, still thinks of beating the shit out of her new guy. Hell, she was probably in love with him by now. Probably a nice guy who didn’t sleep around and actually came home on time.

It’s the oddest thing that breaks him. Surveillance pictures from Escobar’s family vacation. The piece of shit has a whole wife. Keeps his mother and cousin close. Even that fucking monster had family. Doesn’t he deserve to at least take the girl he can’t get out of his head to a nice dinner? Loneliness creeps into his days and nights. No matter how many informants he beds, there’s a growing void in his chest.

Rather than drive home that night, he drives to hers. He wakes her up at an odd hour and all he can think of is whether she was in bed with the new guy when he rang the doorbell. She looked both surprised and annoyed to find him at her door. He couldn’t blame her for either of those things— he did drop off the face of the Earth and it was way past a decent hour to drop by someone’s place. He wants to hold her face in his hand and press a kiss to her lips. But he didn’t have permission for that anymore. So he just says “Dinner?”

Series Masterlist

[sokkigarden]

hi! would you ever do, like, a NSFW alphabet prompt for jamie?

this took me so long but it was basically like 26 prompts all at once LOL but anon whoever you are… ily. this was actually so fun to do🥴 i used a prompt i remember seeing a while ago— i liked it better than the more common list! xx

nsfw alphabet — jamie tartt

A = aroused (how he acts when he’s in the mood)

jamie is not a subtle guy but likes to think he is. to everyone else in the room he’s just being really touchy and affectionate with you, but as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, you KNOW it’s more than meets the eye. the bulge in his pants says otherwise. he’d try to play it off and be casual but he keeps saying slightly suggestive things while you try to have conversations with others. when you’re finally alone, he might get a little whiny or do little things to get your attention. slowly unbuttoning his shirt. fiddling with the necklace you’re wearing. run his fingers along the inside of your thigh. yeah

B = body (favorite body part of their partner)

your thighs. he loves how soft they are and he can’t stop touching them. he loves going down on you and will press feathery kisses along them before he gets to the main event. he also loves when you guys cuddle or you sit in his lap. despite him being a footballer with model girlfriends stereotype, i think he would be interested in anyone, and finds the little quirks that maybe you’re insecure about to be his favorite things. anything that makes you you he adores.

C = climax (what he’s like when he orgasms)

he’s loud. when you first initiate sex he’s kinda quiet but as soon as he’s close, he’s vocal. some dirty talk, some grunts and groans. sex is a transaction for him, he’s focused on both of you receiving pleasure but once he’s about to cum he spaces out a little bit and enjoys the moment.

D = dominance (is he dominant, submissive or a switch)

switch for REAL. this man could absolutely dominate and bring his prick side into bed or he could be the most babygirl of them all. it depends on his energy levels and the mood at the time. overall, he’d be a bit of a teaser and playful (a brat perhaps?) but he also knows when to get serious and focus.

E = experience (how experienced is he in the bedroom)

he’s a footballer, he DEF knows what he’s doing lol. he’s got a few things that he KNOWS he’s good at, so his confidence is through the roof. especially with new people he might stick to what he knows, but that being said, he’s definitely the type of person who would be willing to try anything at least once, especially with a more committed partner that he trusts.

F = fortitude (does he have a lot of stamina and energy)

homeboy isn’t working out JUST to be the best on the field. his stamina is insane and he has the energy for multiple rounds if desired. but instead of focusing on going a few times, he focuses on making each round last a long time. lots of foreplay and oral sex before any penetration actually occurs. he also might surprise you by being kinda flexible

G = gratification (what really gets him off)

getting his partner off is what really get him off. he craves validation so knowing that you are receiving pleasure is going to get him going and now he’s extra turned on. it’s a transaction to him, he believes if you are going to get him off he should put in the work to get you off as well.

H = habitat (preferred place to get busy)

he’s down for the classic bedroom environment but i also see him as being someone who wants to check off every room in the house. kitchen counter, living room couch, the shower, just inside the front door. he wouldn’t mention this little goal of his but he’s secretly keeping tabs. he’s playful and confident enough to be down for semi-public sex, and if y’all get caught, he’ll play it off and joke about it to relieve any embarrassment.

I = intimacy (how emotional is he when it comes to sex)

jamie’s definitely had his fair share of one night stands and flings but once there’s a more emotional connection, the sex gets so much better. especially after his 3 season character arc, he wants to have that connection and explore things sexually with someone who he’s got an emotional attachment to. knowing he’ll wake up next to you in the morning (and maybe fuck you again) makes the night so much more gratifying.

J = joke (how much does he play around)

this man is the cockiest prick ever when he wants to be. it’s all in good fun but he loves teasing you, especially when you get a lil horny and needy for him. “you want me bad, huh?” he might make you beg for it, flexing his arms and slowly removing some layers of clothing, letting you watch but not touch. he relishes in the attention

K = kink (toys or kinks)

this guy didn’t pull roy on a bike by a LEASH for nothing. or pant like a dog for keeley. ARE WE JOKING. while he’d be down for vanilla sex and never say no to some chill missionary, he would eat up trying new freaky shit. he probably has a pair of fluffy handcuffs in his sock drawer and when you ask about using them, he offers up his wrists instead of yours.

L = lust (how often does he want it)

homeboy is BUSY with training but still makes time to have sex with you. with how active he is, his sex drive is pretty high. after matches, he’s still pent up with adrenaline which leads to a fun night once you get home. he’ll take you against the front door as soon as you arrive or even in the car before you ride home. he might be late to training tomorrow morning but it’s worth it.

M = masturbation (mutual and solo)

if you aren’t there, he’s having a wank before bed for sure. if either of you walk in on the other masturbating, you might join in and talk each other through it. despite not touching each other it’s still an intimate experience. he likes knowing you got off from just him talking you through it without even touching you.

N = never (what he will not do)

i cannot see him being into being called “daddy” um😭 while he might enjoy the dynamic of being more dominant, the word just takes him out of the moment lmao

O = oral (giving and receiving)

why is oral with jamie tartt sound so mouthwatering… he would be the type of LOVE going down on you. he loves pinning you down and knowing he can make you fall apart with just his mouth. and he’d love a blowjob in return. he would absolutely melt watching you and giving you praise and encouragement. he might try to be gentle at first but as soon as he’s close he’s fucking into your mouth with abandon. 69 is also on the table, especially when you both have enough time to really make it last.

P = position (favorite position)

can’t stop thinking of straddling his thighs while you fuck on the couch… i don’t think he necessarily has a favorite position but he likes facing you and watching your reactions to what he’s doing.

Q = quickie (what is a quickie like with him)

a quickie in the boot room you mean? LOL while he likes to take his time and really stretch out the amount of pleasure you both get, sometimes he gets home late and just wants a quick fuck before he has to sleep so he can get up early for training. it might include some fingering, making out, and making sure you’re wet enough to take him, but then it’s fast and a lil rough. he’ll clean you up before passing out.

R = roleplay (favorite routines and tropes)

Jamie would def fully commit to the bit. It would start out maybe as a joke or just a little teasing but when all is said and done, he would look back and be like ok that was kinda hot. Sorta like in s1 when he’s panting like a dog when keeley said “down boy, find the treat yeah?” he definitely ate that up (metaphorically and literally haha). He’s been working hard his whole life so he definitely wants to be made to work for it in this context too. adding little scenarios or role plays just adds to the fun sometimes.

S = seduction (how he gets you in the mood)

this man is relentless. if he’s trying to initiate, he’ll start making a few jokes or innuendos, and he’ll also get really touchy, always keeping you close. he’ll pepper kisses across your face and neck, try to distract you from what you’re focusing on. if you’re watching tv and a sex scene comes on, he’ll talk over it, “i could do better than that” “i could do this and this to you instead.” you’ll end up on your back on the couch before the scene is even over. he loves little gestures that he thinks are subtle but they really are glaringly obvious.

T = teasing (what is the best way to arouse him)

so many things get this man going. just being around you is enough, but when you wear something cute, or sway your hips a lil too much while making dinner, he can’t help but want to skip the meal altogether. he especially likes when you pay extra attention to little things, like fiddling with his earring that he wears sometimes or fixing his hair. you being horny for him arouses him more than anything, he likes to feel wanted and needed.

U = underwear (lingerie and costumes)

the first time you wear his jersey, he takes you home asap and fucks you with it on. you ride him as he grips your waist underneath the shirt. he might even take you from the back so he can see you branded with his last name and number. he didn’t expect to be kinda possessive but he’s obsessed with seeing you in his clothes in general, from hoodies to sweatpants to his boxer briefs. it’s even better when you wear some cute underwear underneath it.

V = verdict (what do you think of your sex life with him)

the sex is great on its own but it’s just one piece to a bigger picture. having an emotional connection and trust allows you both to explore sexually while also understanding that sex isn’t the primary focus of the relationship. some nights you both go to sleep without initiating anything while other nights you’re so wrapped up in each other that it’s a fuck marathon til dawn. things are routine but with enough lil change ups that you never get bored of each other.

W = words (how vocal is he and dirty talk)

this man is ALL about praise and talking during sex. sometimes he dips into dirty talk but it’s never anything extremely degrading unless you both decide to try it out. he’s mostly babbling by the end but he’s mumbling and moaning throughout, giving you encouragements and making sure you know how much he likes it, even if he can’t finish his sentences.

X = x-rated (how does he feel about porn or sextapes)

he’d never say no to a sextape but from previous experiences, he’s kinda cautious. gotta keep that shit locked down, maybe even going so far as to use a more “vintage” style of recording to prevent it from ever leaking. he’d show up with an old camcorder and be pretty proud of himself for tracking it down for you guys to use.

Y = yawn (what is he like after sex)

especially with how much he’s been training lately, jamie passes out pretty quickly after sex. he might grab some tissues or a washcloth and clean you both up but his reactions are a lil delayed bc homeboy just wants to sleep. after sex he prefers falling asleep with an arm draped across your waist.

Z = zodiac (what his sign says about him in bed)

according to the internet, oct 20 is jamie’s birthday which makes him a libra! as a libra, he craves a lot of touch and appreciates a sense of equality in bed. he likes his sex life to be a little unpredictable, leading him to behave differently each time. sometimes he will be a bit more passive and gentle and other times he might be rough and a bit more dominating. his charm continues while in bed, using his words to seduce and make the experience more enjoyable.

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective VI

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Dub-con smut, accidental voyeurism, fingering, choking, blow jobs, manhandling, degradation, dirty talk, pet names.

— WORDS: 2.4k

— A/N: Hello dear readers, here's a new chapter! We hope you enjoy it and please feel free to share your opinions with us! Big hugs

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Loosing Myself

Nothing had ever stopped Patrick from getting exactly what he wanted; the little boy who had always owned every new shiny toy and whose pets had disappeared under mysterious circumstances had long since become a man who now bathed in the shallow pleasures of endless luxury, drugs, sex...

It was true that most women only slept with him for the power of money, a purely transactional affair, or in the hope of siphoning off his wealth and status. 'Although that's not to say that these sharp features and the size of my cock don't help in attracting these whores,' Bateman mused briefly, his hand running down his flat stomach and stroking his hardening length in self-indulgent fascination.

"No" doesn't exist in his world, because "yes" is usually just a matter of payment, and so he finds a certain satisfaction in taking what wasn't even part of the deal. Those materialistic sluts screaming underneath him, realizing that they made a miscalculation, that he will rip and rape their bodies, because nothing is worth anything to him anymore, and death is the real price of a night with him. No woman has ever come close enough (or lived long enough) to know the real Patrick Bateman. But Andrea, who he kidnapped and brutalized, and who was now begging him to fuck her...

'Is she losing it? Are there now two lunatics living on the 11th floor of the American Gardens building?'

"You're a stupid fucking bitch," Patrick groaned, confused and yet aroused by the desperation in her voice, her body writhing and shaking with what seemed to be a serious need for him. "I guess I already fucked your brain out, Detective," he muttered, emphasizing her profession with a certain mockery as his hand wandered between her legs. She was so wet that his fingers slid effortlessly into her this time and Patrick couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.

"You really are a dirty, filthy whore to me," he realized as Andrea took one finger after another inside her, more than ready for him, but now of all times he was dragging things out. All this in spite of the fact that Patrick was aching for her at this very moment, rubbing his erection against the silk sheets to take the edge off. 

He was creating a special kind of torture for both of them with the way his thumb kept teasing her clit, his mouth instead attacking the sensitive area around her inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses on the plump flesh. Andrea's skin was so warm to his touch, a heat that radiated not only from her body but also from the look in her eyes as she met Patrick's gaze. 

"Not satisfied with my fingers, huh? Then I need you to be more specific. I need you to tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you."

No, that was not her, it was simply not possible. Andrea, she always knew, wouldn't act like a fucking whore in heat, but... but what if that Andrea was already gone? Lost in the chaos of pain, filth and depravity?

"Ah," the woman gasped as Bateman pulled her hips toward his groin, the leaking head of his cock slipping teasingly between her pussy lips, now so swollen they literally blossomed with arousal. "I want...I want to feel you deep inside me...all of you-aahhh!"

The moment Patrick began to thrust his hips against her rear, all of her insides were already on fire, it was like a fucking torture to be stuck in the middle between being so empty and so full. 

Whimpering, Andrea wanted to bite the blanket to stop herself from crying. Although her pathetic condition could be seen in the mirror on the other side of the bedroom. "Please, just, take me," the woman turned to face him, his prominent eyebrows knitted together as the man was so focused on the process before his hazel eyes; the sight of Andrea's moist, tight cunt enveloping his veiny dick with such eagerness. "Patrick, mmm-Patrick!"

Did she just moan his name? Did she? Or was that not her?

Trapped in her own internal conflict, the Detective fell limp on the sheets under the weight of Bateman's muscles, and that one move gave him the perfect opportunity to bury himself as deep as he could until his balls began to slap her curvy butt.

A low, almost animalistic grunt erupted from the man's chest as he thrust into her, then again and again. Each time was harder and more savage, Andrea had to push the fabric of the covers into her mouth, using it as a gag, her pussy struggling to take him all in, even though it was quite difficult.

"Mmhm," she murmured, almost screaming, while her hands raked around the bed, not knowing what to grab on to, but the next second Patrick fixated them in front of her face and lowered himself even closer to her, so that now his hot breath fanned around her neck, scorching her tender skin. "Big...so big, a-awww." Andrea convulsed several times as the man grabbed her hair with no mercy, forcing her to look up at him.

Those dark eyes, they were the eyes of the devil, nothing more, nothing less. 

It had been days since Detective Donald Kimball had last heard from his assistant, and considering her last assignment had been the interrogation of Patrick Bateman, it was obvious what must have happened.

Now Kimball had to admit it to himself—letting her go alone had been a miscalculation. He had simply assumed that Bateman would be more rational. 

Because even though the serial killer had taken the trouble to cover his tracks this time, Kimball knew where to look first. 

He had been skulking around the American Garden building for days, fully expecting not to be greeted with a single sign of life from Miss Moore. He was ready to expose Bateman for what seemed to have cost his colleague his life - until he saw Andrea Moore through the window. 

Very compromising, not well, but obviously alive. 

For some reason, Bateman must have taken a liking to her, because why else hadn't he killed the woman who was sitting next to him like a ticking time bomb?

Was this man just waiting for his luck to run out? Was he longing for Kimball's punishment?

Which he could have given to Bateman. 

He should have called for backup to storm the apartment immediately. 

But after 20 years of service, he was motivated by more than honor and a handshake. The government paycheck didn't reflect his excellent work, Kimball had decided.

Just as Kimball was about to leave this place, tired of wasting his time just looking at the motionless female body on Bateman's big bed, an owner of that luxury apartment appeared in the detective's vision. Patrick, naked in all his glory, moved slowly toward Andrea, who was still lying on the bed, probably unconscious. And only then did Kimball understand what all this could mean—Bateman had finally found his perfect little doll, or rather, a helpless slave.

For a moment, the man put down his binoculars, wondering if he really wanted to know what was about to happen. With a sigh, Kimball let curiosity take over, and now he was back to watching the couple, who were completely unaware of a sudden onlooker. But even if Bateman knew, he would probably enjoy it. Why had Kimball thought of this? Maybe because of the big camera that was right in front of the king-size bed, the sheets of which were so white that it was painful to look at them.

As in the pornographic movies that were quite popular these days, Patrick positioned himself over the dark-haired woman and gripped her neck hard enough to bruise, Donald could swear he could hear her shaky gasping next to him. Was he going to kill her afterwards? At some point, the detective couldn't believe that his assistant had been here all this time. The train of thought distracted him for a moment, but when he returned to the lewd performance, the man almost dropped the binoculars from the way Andrea was sucking Bateman's huge cock as if her life depended on it. But maybe it was? 

Too many questions and no answers. Too much depravity and literally no shame in their movements, it all looked like they had done it so many times before. Patrick's tight grip on the back of her head, urging her to go faster, to take him deeper, until she felt the scratch in her throat, until his cum dripped from her luscious lips and down her chin.

There was something about the way Bateman bent her neck so their lips could meet, oblivious to the taste of his own release, perhaps even turned on by it. About Andrea pressing her soft body so willingly against Bateman's defined abdomen. And if Bateman had ever harbored violent urges toward Miss Moore, now was clearly not the time to convince her; they both sank back onto the white sheets, his broad shoulders almost completely blocking the view of her smaller frame to the voyeuristic eye of Detective Donald Kimball. 

Andrea's legs wrapped around Bateman's surprisingly slender waist, clinging to him as if he might disappear forever if she didn't. Their bodies turned, and if this was a fight, it had to be a very passionate one...

Bateman's hand all over her, on her face, her waist, her backside.

Kimball couldn't help but make an embarrassing noise, fortunately only audible to his own ears, and he gripped the binoculars tighter in response. 

He would never have expected this from a woman who dressed so conservatively every day. What surprised him even more was how a man like Bateman could be so enraptured by a single tantalizing, if not a little trashy, tattoo. 

Massaging the inked skin and kissing his way lower between her legs...

Kimball couldn't say he fully understood what was going on between them, at least psychologically, because the physical attraction was clear to him even from this distance. It was evident in the way Bateman buried his head deeper between her legs, grinding against the sheets, and Andrea's body convulsed and shook with undisguised pleasure.

And Kimball felt relief of a different kind wash over him - for now there was a way for his depraved mind to justify the next step: A private offer Mr. Bateman couldn't refuse.

How many days have passed? Andrea could never know, since she was imprisoned in a golden cage on the 11th floor of the American Gardens Building. The apathy seemed to reach its limits, and the woman even began to refuse to eat, shower, or even leave Bateman's bedroom, hiding under the covers like a frightened animal. Such an attitude only made Patrick more cruel and brutal, Andrea's skin was like a canvas for his marks, such as bruises, scratches or even bites, which he left each time they fucked, but he always took care of them meticulously, applying some balm and bandage.

Why couldn't he just let her die? Why did he keep dragging her out of bed day after day to give her a bath, as if she were his dear pet that he loved to take care of? Well, maybe she really was? The meals Patrick gave her were extremely nutritious and healthy, they were deliciously cooked, but Andrea could never really enjoy their taste. Colors seemed to leave her current life as well as her former self. She was like an empty, broken phial, and all of Bateman's attempts to fill it up were unsuccessful, to say the least; the fact that he was possessively pumping her with his seed didn't count. Though, it was a fucking miracle that the woman hadn't gotten pregnant yet. 

'If I'm really stuck here forever, there's only one way out,' Andrea thought to herself as she watched Bateman cutting an apple for her in the kitchen, the knife so sharp that Patrick didn't even have to use any pressure to cut the fruit. 'I should try to kill him,' she jerked away as the man appeared in front of the kitchen island and offered her a slice of apple with a wicked glint in his hazel eyes. 

"I'm not hungry," Andrea muttered, turning away and crossing her arms. The only thing she could think about now, besides the constant plotting of her possible escape, was the upcoming party Bateman was going to take her to. Even though she still couldn't believe that he was actually going to let her go out with him. It was so weird. "Am I really going with you? Or it's just another evil joke?"

There was an undisguised challenge in Andrea's voice that only fueled Bateman's interest in her. This woman was like an unruly element, a force he wanted to tame so badly, and he knew that one day he would eventually do it.

"No jokes, honey," Patrick sneered, leaning against the kitchen counter, the apple slice still in his hand. "But," the man suddenly straightened up and walked around the corner to get even closer to Andrea. "This is not an ordinary party, this is a special one."

"Special?"

Smirking haughtily, the man stopped right next to her, his one hand already finding a place on her shoulder, kneading it in a relaxing way, but it only made her more nervous. "Yes, it's hosted by one of my friends from Wall Street," his soft baritone echoed off the walls, creating a strangely hypnotic vibe. "I'm sure you'll like it."

With a devilish grin, Patrick quickly popped the apple slice into his mouth before drawing close to Andrea's face and in the next second, their lips collided in a sweet but possessive kiss. The fruit was so tasty and soft that its juice spilled out and ran down the woman's chin and neck. Holding her in place with his strong arm, Bateman pulled away only to catch the small drops of sugary fluid running down her soft skin, causing Andrea to shiver, but she managed to stifle a moan.

"Does your friend know what you've done?" She asked quietly, her head tilted to the side, and even though his touch was pleasurable, there was no way she was going to show it to him. 

"And what have I done?" He replied, locking his tantalizing gaze with hers. "I just claimed what was mine, don't you think?"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!