#rendered in hi-def

[discluded]

Part 2 -character solo shots

New Hidden Message trailer clean/HQs via boss.fie @ IG

[mostly-artsy]

[lloyds-archive]

I want to see this man suffer.

[ethanharmonia]

Could we get a Hilbert? We love him very much :>

Have a Hellbirth, my good sire✨

(My AU style + his silly little swamp puppy monster form HAHAHAHAHA)

Since he mains Reshiram, i wanted to make his design have some sort of connection with it, make it a little cool cuz i didnt want to make Hilbert bland like in the game and at least have something unique, may look a little weird but i like it💥💥💥

Bonus :

He is a little emo but i lov him so much mwah

Hope you enjoy!!! :D

[dongpound]

Im finally drawing a fucking Alec ref and I wanted to challenge myself and make it look like actual concept art and I THINK. I DID IT.

[kof-xiii]

artemis is a lot more minimal tho compared to her hades 1 art :( im thinking its probably too early to nitpick that tho bc early access hasnt even started yet so im hoping they incorporate in the old style with her in the future. i do like the idea someone brought up that artemis is a lot more withdrawn to zag hence she has her guard up but shes known mel all her life and has a more casual stance and vibe going on in her pov

[todayisafridaynight]

IW spoilers but I think it'd have been sick, especially w Ebina vs Kiryu being the end fight, if Ebina was from Sunflower; man can have pretty much the same backstory and cope and seethe abt the yakuza all he likes and NOT JUST BE ANOTHER AOKI SURPRISE BONUS ARAKAWA FAMILY DRAMA

I know this would take away from Ichi focus again but it aint as if the narrative hasn't already done that by making him deal w old wrinklyass munakata 2 cult boogaloo as his story and not letting him sit with family time

i desperately need kiryu to think for more than 2 minutes about Kazama being not perfect

NO BUT LITERALLY IF EBINA HAD TO HAVE CONNECTIONS TO A YAKUZA TO HATE THEM ALL THEN SUNFLOWER WOLUD'VE BEEN PERFECT

esp with the substory in gaiden it feels like the franchise keeps edging us into having kiryu fully accept kazama wasnt perfect and seeing how he affected Everyone Else That Wasn't Him. like GREAT for you kiryu that it worked out, everyone else tho !!!! uh !!!!!!! 👁️‍🗨️👁️‍🗨️

like he gets that realization in small doses but ebina couldve been a great bigger example of that ...

[lycanwlf]

hi. i finally finished the sonic frontiers dlc. i like this ending :)

[silly-plays-p3r]

when you say youre gonna play the other versions, do you mean youre gonna skim through them while focusing on reload, or is this gonna be a lets play 10 years in the making? (also are ya gonna include the movies or nah?)

Oh I was going to do a handful of days at a time and play through it each version. But I think....now that I'm home I'll just play reload for now (gonna need to restart since my main way of playing is on my PS4 and I've been playing on steam deck the past few days. I know, I know....sorrows and prayers for me and that experience TT0TT)

I AM still thinking of playing through each game tho and comparing them (which would require me recording gameplay, which I'd need to wait on). I've seen some influence from the movie (not as much as I'd want >_>) and P3P (I am VERY confused :'D)

Speaking of P3P, I'm torn between my steam version, or the modded HD version on my emulator....I might just do the emulator tbh. Easier to save state and reload to get the alternative dialogue :'D

Here's the link to the blog that'll be where I post the comparisons:

www.tumblr.com/persona-3-comparisons

Obvie it's super new (I haven't even gotten a chance to format it yet). 8U I'll see if I can format it today and maybe even make a tag list of what I'll probably will be using. :'D

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID: Digital Mairimashita! Iruma-kun fanart of Iruma, who's sitting with his hands propping up his head and looking at the viewer with mildly pursed lips. End ID]

Frankly, he’s adorable (I can’t wait for the next ep!!!!)

[puck-luck]

if you’re still taking requests, maybe shower sex with Quinn after a day out on the lake?

Because the boys have def got an outdoor shower <3

The wall of the outdoor shower is digging into your back, but you can't be bothered to move when Quinn's dick is filling you so well.

"This what you wanted?" He grunts out, looking up at you briefly before letting his eyes fix on your meeting point, where he's fucking into you with near-reckless abandon.

"Yes," you agree, chanting the word. It's all you can say. Quinn has rendered you stupid yet again from the abundant pleasure in your core.

"Fuck, baby, wish we were alone," Quinn muses. "I want to have you like this on every surface in the house."

You'd scream if his hand didn't make its way up to your neck, squeezing slightly. The pressure on your windpipe has your eyes rolling back. You can feel the spray of the shower ricocheting from where it pelts down onto Quinn's body.

His hair is dripping and stringy and keeps falling into his eyes. You've never seen him look so angelic.

"When the boys leave, I'm going to fuck you everywhere," Quinn promises. He chortles a bit to himself, then winks. "Better make sure you're naked and ready for me whenever I like. Might have to buy you a little vibrator that you can keep in all day long."

[crimsonbubble]

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, oral, overstimulation, hair pulling, spanking *not proofread, just pure horny

[I’m busting 21 times on his nose]

kinktober masterlist

MINORS DNI!!

When he tells you to sit on his face, he means to sit on it

There’s no hovering bullshit going on here baby

Will simply force you down and keep a tight hold on your thighs so you can’t lift yourself off of him

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, he is a pussy eating menace

He doesn’t take this shit lightly

Rocks your hips along his face to encourage you to roll them

Tongue fucks you open to purposely have you grinding against his nose

Loves nothing more than to make you cum

Doesn’t matter how he does it, he just loves rendering you into a needy and twitchy mess

He’s the type to have you against the wall but with your legs over his shoulders so you have to rely on him to hold you up when he eats you out

Like Johnny is just on his knees in front of you with both of your legs over his shoulders

You’ve got a hand braced on the wall and the other tangled in his hair

Oh yea, please pull his hair when you sit on his face

He just looks like a sadomasochist so pull hard and watch his eyes roll back

Def the type to smack your ass when you stop moving your hips on his face

But don’t worry baby, your big strong boyfriend will move your hips for you <3

[daemonbrain]

Little Viper

Prologue | Chapter 1

(Daemon Targaryen x Dornish!Reader)

Summary: The sun could not reach you here, not in this city of rain and stink. (Un)fortunately, you found yourself at the mercy of a dragon's fire.

You've missed the heat, you supposed.

6k, CW: arranged marriage, canon divergent, canon-typical violence, canon-typical misogyny, reader is homesick, smut, will update as I post.

a/n: This was def a bitch to write lol, I really need to get back into it. I haven't decided whether i'm going to turn this into a proper multi-part series or not so I encourage you to leave comments if this is something you'd be interested in :)

To My Lord-Father,

It has been well over a week's time since you’ve sent me- your dearest child- away. A few days time since I last felt the weight of the sun's warmth upon my skin. The overcast weather befitting of my current disposition and this city, nay, kingdom’s shortcomings compared to our beloved Dorne.

I arrived a few hours ago, though I swiftly left the company of King Jaehaerys and the rest of his court's brazen stares upon arrival… you’d think they had never seen a Dornishmen before. However, the reason being for my early retreat was not the scrutiny, rather that I don’t feel particularly well. You know I've never enjoyed sea travel, for it makes me sickly. Or this may just be my body’s desperate act of resistance against this poorly-conceived match you’ve sold me to. Be that as it may, it does not do to dwell as you would say.

I am willing to do this wretched duty as Princess of Dorne, to bring upon us a lasting peace. At the very least for Qoren’s sake, I suppose. 

Though I am cross with you, I cannot say it isn’t regrettable to hear that your ailment has rendered you unable to make the journey to King’s Landing… your absence will be strongly felt, father. Just as it has been.

On a less glum note, I feel my dreadful spirits being lifted. It’s as if I can sense my brother's approach to the Blackwater Bay where I will eagerly await him on the morrow, perfectly on time for the ceremony.

I miss you and shall count the days until I am able to return home? Sunspear home to see you. Do not strain yourself while Qoren and I are away.

Best Regards, Your Daughter.

100 A.C

Had you been in your previous state of fury and pettiness, you might have crossed out “daughter” in favor of  “forsaken issue”. Mayhaps if you had the energy at present, you would have.

While on the sea, you had been given much time before your grand entrance to reconcile yourself with your forlorn state of affairs. The reconciliation being overindulgence of barrels worth of Dornish Red on board. The “wedding” gift Qoren so thoughtlessly japed. 

Your pitiful drunken outbursts in the privacy of your quarters, lest you cause any rumors before even arriving at the port. You would curse the day you were born, the day your father was born, the day his father before him. 

Prince Daemon and his drunkard bride, a blessed match.

However, after the unremitting bouts of nausea ultimately won over your desire to numb your senses. Leagues away from the Dornish border and fast approaching your fate, your anger could not sustain you so wholly in the middle of the Narrow Sea.

Taking a moment from your trivial displeasure, you hunched over, placing your forehead to the wooden desk in your guest chambers with a thud. Holding yourself tightly as if that would dull the unpleasant rumble in your belly, rocking your body as the ship had mere hours ago.

A warm welcome to this shitpile of a city. You chuckled to yourself, to the empty room. You could only assume the things Qoren would say about this horrid place. How dull the walls were, the lack of open air. No bright colours and suns embellishing every piece of fabric. 

He would make a wisecrack remark, “Oh how drab the Targaryen splendor is!” 

Though he would say it in a far more humorous way. His asinine character a natural talent to a prick such as himself you believed.

Pushing yourself up with your ink covered hands, you groaned and ambled over to the opened window where the steady whistle of the wind entered. The moon was shrouded in the looming storm clouds, doing little to nothing in regards of illuminating the Red Keep’s disappointingly plain architecture (you may be biased) and the city below. If you gave too much focus, you might begin to smell the… aromas King’s Landing had to offer from all the way up here. None pleasant.

Your belly ached and gurgled as you thought back to the putrid smell that overwhelmed you as you were transported from the Blackwater Bay to the Red Keep.

Before you could dwell any longer, you sighed and shut the window tightly, nothing deemed interesting enough to watch anyways. Instead, your newfound anxieties find their way back to entertain you, the only thing keeping your company as of late.

You had a duty to keep, reminding yourself like a mantra.

Marriage alliances have been custom through the centuries in Westeros. Your own flesh born of political maneuvering and courtly expectations. Why was it now as you stood before your responsibility, your chest tightened at the very thought? At the briefest mention?

You did not like this, but it was your burden to bear. You had no wish to feel this way.

You could only conjure a faint image of the moment your brother unwillingly delivered your fathers verdict on your future. It had been a beautiful day, the gardens' serene quality creating a profusely deceptive sense of security.

Mayhaps it was the way your head was sent spinning immediately after the words left Qoren’s mouth? The rush of anger which possessed you? The way it caused you to barge into the council room, any trace of warmth or softness you commonly afforded to your father absent. 

Nonetheless, it was all a blur of shouting, salty tears, pleas and comforts falling deaf to your ears. Whatever it was no longer clear to you.

Sighing, you begin to slip out of the dress you had travelled with, the hem of the sleeves stained from your letter writing. 

You briefly considered stripping down to your undergarments and sleeping as such. Though, upon further deliberation you thought it best to wear a simple nightgown in accordance with the cold draft of the castle. 

Slipping under the fur lined covers you couldn’t help the feeling that crept into the cavity of your chest. It burned within you, leaving a rancid taste in your mouth. This was it. Come this time tomorrow, you would not even belong to the house of your kin. 

Wrapping the covers more firmly around your quaking form, it’s indiscernible whether the chill or your fear was the source.

“Daemon” You dared to whisper, willing yourself to speak the Targaryen Prince’s miserable name into the empty bedchamber. You did not like how it sounded on your tongue.

Do you feel this dread as I do?

“Does my Prince find himself in need of comfort?” The whore spoke out, reaching to graze the silver-haired Prince’s hand which held his third- fourth cup of wine.

Dornish Red Daemon had complained. He always favored Arbor Gold.  

He had been in this place since the previous night, an angered promenade with a few of the guards he trained with on occasion. They laughed, feasted, fucked through the streets of King’s Landing without shame nor respect for the Prince’s wedding ceremony taking place on this very day. 

Daemon did not deem it worthy of his attention. Let the King’s guard or whatever the fuck else other soldier his grandsire and father will send drag him from this place. He would stay put in the meantime, enjoying his time sunken in his whore and cup much more than he would with the Dornish wench they’ve bound him to.

Daemon smirked as his gaze ran down to the woman’s breasts shamelessly, watching the way her nipples hardened under the flimsy gown she wore. The cold winds from the opened window biting at her form in a delectable way.

 When his eyes arrived back to her face his own violet eyes were met by her blue ones. Her unmistakable silver hair shining in the candlelight. This was what he was deserving of.

His previous visits to this particular establishment were met with loyalty by the owner. She spoke of a girl to his tastes. He was pleasantly surprised with the dragonseed waiting for him in the deeper parts of the building.

The sound of moans echoing from within the brothel, the lecherous men seeking reprieve from their lives by giving up their coin to service the women who milled about.

All the distractions which blared loudly in his ears could not distract his active mind as he drunkenly and loudly complained of his circumstances.

How could they expect him to sit idly by as they took his future into their hands. To marry him to a hot-blooded Dornishmen. The blood of the dragon does not dwell with sand people he had told his brother Viserys.

Slamming his now empty goblet to a random table, he allows the silver-haired woman to lead him to an empty couch amongst other patrons and working girls alike.

She pushes him to the couch and flicks her hair to the side. He leers at the beauty born of his house’s ardor. Her sharp features, tresses which reached her waist. Grabbing on to her with a firm hand, he pulled her down to his lap as a familiar need spread through his body. Deserving.

Daemon was not one to hold back his desires, and why should he? A dragon's blood is made of fire, and nothing burns hotter than a dragon's lust.

As she lightly grinded her hips against him, a familiar rising began

This is what he is deserving of. He had no need to see his intended, for he already knew what the Dornish were. Most certaining nothing he was interested in binding himself to.

“My Prince is most eager,” she breathily stated, her breath clipped as Daemon wasted no time fastening his mouth to hers, roughly coaxing his tongue into her mouth. “Your Prince needs a good fuck.” His tone husky, words slurring slightly. His lips breaking apart from hers, hands exploring her dress-clad form. A thin bit of fabric which he could make quick work of.

“Spend your night with me and it may be your best fuck yet, my prince…” Gods had he not been so displeased by his circumstances he would have taken to banter with this seductress. Would have let her worship him, and he would worship her in turn. However, the sound of the stitches on her flimsy gown ripping from his grip on her waist was a tell-tale sign this was no such night for that sort of intimacy. This was a night for animalistic intentions.

His hand greedily roamed the expanse of her soft skin, marks from previous patrons visible- he did not care. Her perfume almost nauseatingly strong. It did not matter.

The two were lip locked. Groans and heavy breaths as they practically merged into one another. The fervor of which Prince Daemon kissed at her skin, beautiful and unsightly.

If the Targaryen’s were believed to be closer to the gods then men, why was it that they crumbled all too similar to even those of the lowest birth who frequented these houses of ill-repute. For any who caught a glimpse of the young Prince and his company of the night, that very notion could be challenged as he desperately clutched on to any purchase of skin he could find, the need for anything pleasurable in this wretched day. Seeking solace in the arms of a beautiful woman with an underlying need to reclaim the power he deemed stolen from him.

Pulling back from the kiss, the woman latched her skillful lips to his pale skin. With a sharp inhale, Daemons went muscles taut at the way she nipped and licked at his skin. 

“That’s it..”

A short groan escaped him as his hand went to cradle the back of her head, taking a handful of her hair. As he pushed her closer to his skin he could have sworn this woman was a witch.

When she began to palm him through his breeches he was sure. At the tender touch, his cock chubbed up. In the daze his eyes slowly peered at the sight before him, but before he could admire the feast laid before him another irritating sight caught his attention.

Another girl, distinctly sun-kissed skin that was certainly not from the gloomy skies of the Crownlands during the winter, and dark locks of hair forming waves down her back as she vigorously worked her mouth on another patron.

Before he is able to grit his teeth in annoyance, the silver-haired woman's dexterous hands continue to gently touch him through the fabric of his breeches, he momentarily has to toss his head back to let go of a deep breath, his drunken state causing a small whine to escape.

After a hearing a small giggle, he focuses back on his own pleasure and groping of the much more interesting beauty-

His eyes quickly peered back over to the other whore.

Damned Dornish. Worming their way into all facets of his life now? The thought made him want to scoff.

Dishonourable Dornish. Known throughout Westeros for their cowardly fight tactics, uses of poison.

More crudely also known for their lust, their thirst.

Daemon could not help that his wine-addled mind brought him back to his fucking betrothed. He wondered if the rumors held true. Daemon had fucked wenches prettier than a fair few of the noblewomen in court. He had no issue avoiding the bedding entirely if she happened to be one of the more plain featured.

Though, his fathers fury would know no bounds were he to not consummate the union, the key piece to such an "important" alliance... were it up to Daemon to provide council (which it very much wasn't) they would come to the walls of Sunspear atop Vhagar and Caraxes to subdue this folly entirely.

Would the Princess descend to her knees like the woman in his view? Gaze up at him in pleading to fulfill her bottomless appetite. His cock, his fingers, his tongue. After all how could such an insatiable creature react well to her own husband refusing to fuck her.

Gods he hoped she wasn't ugly.

If she was lucky enough, perceptive enough to beg, the Prince would jeeringly stroke her hair and whisper his taunts before pulling her on to him.

Were you the sort of woman able to take a man to his base? Or would you ask him to slow his pace?

Continuing to watch the Dornish woman, he allowed a groan to slip past his lips at both the ministrations of his paid companion and the sight before him.

The whore deftly performed. Perhaps you would try to please him with such fervor. Leave eager licks at his sack of stones as you indulged in such carnal desires. Delightedly hum as you suckled at his tip.

“You distract yourself, mighty dragon” His companion interrupted while grabbing his face on either side. Had his body not already been ready to boil over, it certainly was now at her words. A mighty dragon he was.

Shaking his head, he centers his thoughts back on to the woman whose legs were dangled across his thighs. Unbearably hard, he ached to see her bare. And with that desire came the end of her cheap gown. He ripped the fabric down the middle, her chest now on full display for him to enjoy.

Unfortunately for his poor intoxicated attention span, the loud sound of squelching hit his ears and he could not resist the temptation to look back.

He watched as the man hungrily began to leverage his position over the other woman, choosing to forgo her teasing in favor of fucking her mouth.

Daemon wouldn't do that- not like that. His mind wandered off again. A place where a Dornish Princess sat between his legs determined to inch-by-inch feed his cock into her hole. No, he would let her tease. He would let her and then when he no longer wished to, she wouldn't need to try so hard anymore. For he would begin to snap his hips forward to make up for what she couldn’t. Breaking that infamous Dornish resistance by forcing her poor throat to adapt to the too-large intrusion. 

He would relish in wounding the Martell pride after all, justifiable revenge for his own. The only thing he may be granted in this ridiculous union.

He would be gentle and rough all the same, mocking through it all.

The whore clearly knew what she was doing, patiently and prettily sitting there while suctioning her cheeks, bobbing along with the rhythm. He would have let her work a little longer before devolving so fast as the man had. To each their own.

He didn’t know if it was the view or the feeling of his pants being unlaced which had him beginning to sweat.

Would his bride sit as pleasantly he wondered or would fat tears slip down her cheeks at the bombardment? Too overwhelming for the likes of a noblewoman. Or perhaps she would prove to be the opposite and enjoy such treatment, utterly unbefitting to her station.

Would her own cunt glisten as the whore's does in pleasure, calling to him as if it was of the utmost fascination? Would her spittle drip down from her face to her thighs? Would they be rubbing together in need as he buried himself deeper. Her body ready to entrap him should he lose his wits to a viper of all things. A little thing trying to fool a dragon.

In a matter of seconds, the man's tempo slowed significantly as his legs began to weakly quake. Taking this opportunity, she sped up, and as if sensing this she pulled off. Jerking his manhood over her face while looking at him with a sultry stare, he turned away bashfully, his peak quick.

Daemon would have pulled the Princess the whore close, nuzzling her nose to the very base of him where his silver hairs grow. Shaft as far as it could be. He would watch as her eyes grew hazy from the closeness, from the seed which slithered down her throat.

If you are pretty enough, he would find no shame in returning the favour. A lusty Princess, certainly a rarity left unseen by him (lest he recounts the stories of his denounced aunt Saera Targaryen).

If the rumors of the Dornish are anything to go by, a pretty girl with loose legs was the best he could expect out of these circumstances. At worst, another person which he would dutifully ignore and loath as best he could.

Without taking notice, the woman on his lap gestured the Dornish whore over, slipping her hands away from Daemon’s.

Before the husband-to-be could object to the separation, the two women dragged him bare and ready to a more private chamber in the back grabbing a pitcher of wine on the way.

Dornish Red.

You had been quick to rouse from your rest, your body protesting the sounds of the morn outside of your door. A clear indication it was time for you to rise. You struggled, it was not as if sleep came easily to you the night before, nor effectively when it befell you for that matter.

But as the sharp knock of your maid came to the locked wooden door of your chambers there was no escape. Your paranoia comes back to bite you as you were forced to trudge over, utterly unready to face the homely, friendly woman you had taken with you from Dorne.

After opening the door and curt pleasantries are exchanged, your hair is made to a neat style and you are helped into a fine dress suiting the chilly weather.

Had you been at home you would have opted for expensive lace and airy fabrics. You’d be bejewelled and by the prudish standards of King’s Landing, “scantily” dressed. Though, you’d bid the Lord’s and Lady’s of this court to attempt a summer in Sunspear wearing their usual constricting and heavy fabrics.

Running your hands over the tightly corseted waist, the maid speaks up while collecting loose items marring the tidy space.

“The discomfort is a small price to pay. Should you be beholden to Prince Daemon this morning, he will think you stunning in such a piece.” 

Raising a brow to her comment on the Prince’s… likes, you speak semi-irate. “Does the Prince enjoy his women light-headed and immobile then?” 

You knew little of Daemon beyond the rumors which circulated about him, let alone enough to presume his tastes.

A second-born child just as you were, he was a knight described as tall and hardened where his brother Viserys was more plump. 

You oft fantasized of what it would be to truly be with a fighter. Now faced with the possibility of being bound to a glory-hungry Targaryen, you could not find in yourself the same excitement you felt when studying the soldiers of Dorne. In fact, it would not be a stretch to say there was faint distress.

You studied the woman's reflection in the mirror and she looked at you once and then twice over. 

“Ah!” The maid scampers over to where your jewelry is laid and brings a gold albeit simple necklace. Strapping it around your neck she claps her hands together softly.

Deeming her work satisfactory, she meets your eye once more with a commiserating stare.

“If that will be all Princess?”

“That will be all.” 

She bowed and left without another word. Your unpleasant behavior was something anyone employed by your father to serve you in King’s Landing had begun to become accustomed to. Their good Princess grows bitter in the absence of the sun. 

With a sigh, you turn when you hear a knock at the door. It is then you see your ever stoic knight Ser Edmyn.

With tan skin and hair that was but a wisp, he was an experienced fellow. Even with old age the knight was able to keep up with any man half his years. An imposing size and frightening demeanor alone enough to ward any undesirables away. One of the best in Dorne deemed the best protection for his Princess.

“Good morning Ser Edmyn.” You smiled small while approaching him at the door, (un)ready to leave the safety and solitude of your bedchambers.

“Good morning, Princess.” He smiled small back. A pleasantry which was reserved for you.

As the both of you fall into step you continue to speak while observing the bustle of the corridors, decorations coming to and from even in this wing of the castle. “It is busy today. I suppose all this chaos is to be expected...”

“There is to be a royal wedding after all. Though I deduce you would not like to be reminded.”

With a chuckle you shake your head “No, ser, I do not. However, I would like to pick your brain for what you know of my brother's arrival. I would like to be there as soon as his boat is, I am most excited to see him again.”

“It is to my knowledge that your brother will not arrive until noon.”

With an aimless hum you keep your eyes trained ahead, lest you embarrass yourself with the anxious expression on your face. A few more unbearable hours until they are made just a slight bit better. Mayhaps Qoren will be able to bring a spot of light to this dreary city.

After a few minutes of allowing Ser Edmyn to lead you, you recognize the faint smell of food. Gods it has been a time since you last ate. On cue, you begin to salivate over the thought of a freshly cooked meal.

An unfamiliar voice interferes with your fantasies, coming to a stop in front of you with a polite smile. “Princess,” The servant bowed respectfully, clearly in a hurry. “her royal highness Princess Aemma requests you join her to break fast.”

Looking at Edmyn with annoyance displayed, he only responds with an inappreciable shrug. Mayhaps the woman would further rub your nose in all of this bother. This family has ruined your happiness, they may as well ruin your meal.

Offering the servant a reluctant nod, he stiffly leads you and your protector to a dining room. 

Bowing, the servant leaves after delivering you in front of your destination and Ser Edmyn takes his place on the wall outside of the opened door. Pushing all the thoughts from your head you assume a neutral expression as you walked into the room.

Without so much as looking at Aemma’s face, you nod your head with respect due to someone of her status. “Princess Aemma.”

It was when you heard a soft babble, your mind went soft. You tilt your head back up to see Aemma giving you a bright smile and you spot a girl no more than three in her arms. 

“Or… Princess’s, apologies.” 

“Princess,” your name slipping from her lips as she wrangled her wriggling daughter. “No need for such apologies. I hope I did not interrupt your busy morning!” She spoke with jollity, as if this was a day which deserved such joys.

“Not at all. I’ve yet to eat anything. Nothing to tend to until my brother Qoren’s arrival.” You mustered a friendly looking smile, trying (and failing) to reciprocate the amiable spirit of the Arryn. 

“Come. sit, sit!” grabbing hold of her daughter's wrist, she gently waved it in your direction, “Say hello Rhaenyra.” she told her daughter, the two letting out a little giggle at the contact. 

“Helloooo” The girl playfully obliged.

As you sat down, you could not fail to take note of the way her silver hair and violet eyes stood out amongst all of it. A true little Targaryen.

You presumed they all started this lovely. One could almost forget they grew to be wicked dragonlords.

Unknowing of your distasteful thoughts, Aemma continued putting the young Princess in her chair as the help served her up a plate.

“I figured it would be pleasant for the both of us to meet in a more intimate setting. You left so briskly the past night, I could not introduce myself. I do hope you were able to remedy the travel sickness you mentioned?” She turned her head upwards to you.

“Yes… pleasant.” You continued, “sleep always proves to be the best cure to my ill-state.” 

Bang! 

You jumped at the sound. How pleasant to dine to the sounds of the young Princess whacking silverware to the wood.

“Feed mummy! Food!” she whined.

Without casting a glance to Rhaenyra, Aemma places a light hand to her little fists to placate the girl. “Patience Rhaenyra… Apologies, my girl is quite insistent.” As the beginnings of cries begin to persist, Aemma turns to Rhaenyra with a soft smile.

Motherly.

“What do we say Rhaenyra?”

“No Mummy! Feed!”

Aemma giggles a bit before continuing. “Kostilus. Say it my girl, say what your father taught you. Kos-til-us.”

With a final resistant pout, red-faced and desperate to be fed, the girl parrots her mother. “Kostiles!” Rather she tries to.

At her daughter yielding and speaking this mystery word, Aemma begins to spoon feed her, attention returning back to you.

“It means please in High Valyrian. Viserys, Prince Baelon… Daemon, they are all fluent. ‘Tis quite important that a Targaryen is fluent in the mother tongue.”

You hum in agreement as you take a sip of your drink. The ancestral tongue of cruel war instigators. Fitting.

“I must say how wonderful it is that Prince Qoren will come! I’m sure you are very happy to see him on such a special occasion.”

You thank the server who set out a plate with something of palatable substance compared to the meals you were served on the sea. 

Taking a few bites of the food, you will yourself slow down, responding after you’ve swallowed. “Yes, such a… special day.” You gulped and barely held back your grimace.

In need of a different topic, you continue. “But to say I am very happy would be phrasing it far too mildly. I am quite fond of my brother. We are inseparable and it has been strange to be without him for so long.”

“It must be hard to be away from him, especially… in a place so different.” You see a flicker of sympathy in her gaze as she turns to gently wipe at Rhaenyra’s mouth with a cloth.

You watch as she mothers her daughter with the same soft gaze. You did not need someone years your younger looking at you as if you were a lost lamb, it only caused your annoyance to be inflamed.

“Yes, well, as is my duty.” You responded in a way which sounded more clipped than you intended.

In spite of sensing your blunt tone, Aemma continues cooly. “I myself am not close to my half-siblings. They are all quite a bit older than me. I was never lucky enough to have a relationship like the one you describe.” She smiled wistfully. “I do hope in the near future Rhaenyra will be able to have such a bond.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered down to your empty finger. The tan line a reminder of your gold signet ring. Yet another thing you reluctantly miss.

Your annoyance softens at Aemma’s kind words and the reminder of your “lucky bond” with your brother as you decide to initiate a question. “Did you like Vale? I have never visited.” You asked, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh yes! It would snow in the winter, sometimes so hard one could mistake for Winterfell! And in the spring the prettiest flowers would bloom! Little blue ones all around. It all becomes a little blurry as time passes on-”

You felt your heart skip once as she carried on. Would it be you one day dining with someone, talking of Dorne as a memory?

“But of course I've been in King’s Landing since I was a girl of eleven. I’ve built a fondness for this home as well.”

That caused you to pause. 

What a horrible thing to be ripped from your home at such a young age. 

Taking another bite of your food, you watch as she continues to prattle on about how “pleasant” King’s Landing could be if you looked closely. Gulping down your food, it is your turn to look at her with sympathy.

As you both goalessely chat with occasional interruptions from Rhaenyra, the topic of your intended is breached even with your skillful avoidance.

“He is not as bad as people say, you know. Just… passionate. He is kind to Rhaenyra and I. He loves his brother very much. Perhaps he could make…” Aemma’s voice wanes off as she thinks on her next words. 

A part of her wanted to reassure you by saying “a fine match.”  However, she did not wish to sour this new amity by feeding you lies. You were going to be her sister and you did not seem like the type to take kindly to blatantly dishonest consolation. It was not right.

Not when she had heard the cruel way Daemon had spoken about you to Viserys only nights ago. 

“A tolerable match.”

You were a nice girl… angry perhaps. She found herself hoping vainly Daemon would not ruin you. 

“How reassuring Princess.” you chuckled, allowing yourself to go lax a bit.

And how this delighted Aemma. “Having said that, I do not think you will have to… concern yourself with him before the ceremony.” she grinned quietly.

“That disappoints me so.”

Amidst the comfortable silence which ensued, you’re interrupted by Ser Edmyn.

“Princess, I’m sorry for the intrusion. Your brother's ship approaches the Bay. I thought it important to inform you, we will need to leave soon if you wish to welcome him.”

Aemma could see your harsh air lighten evidently. The announcement of your true brother's arrival bewitching you with a smile of what looked to be perfect glee.

You shot up from your seat immediately, pivoting towards the Princesses. “I do hope you forgive my abrupt departure, but I-”

“Go! It is fine. I look forward to meeting Prince Qoren!” She simpered.

Without another word, you were in the buzzing hallways of the Red keep. “Make haste Ser Edmyn!” You laughed as you picked up your skirts, bursting with joy that even the constraints of this damned corset could not stop you.

Had this been a few hours ago, spotting the orange Martell banners carried alongside Targaryen, flowers, and chairs you might have been sent into a dizzy spell. You just might the moment you arrive back at the castle. Not now though. For now, your brother was here!

After a brief carriage ride you are offered a hand by your knight as he gently leads you down. Uncaring of the light rain which splattered over your new dress, you stumbled upon the stones which littered the shore as you raced to catch a glimpse of the vessel.

Your heart threatened to burst and for the first time since you arrived, you graced King’s Landing with the brightest of smiles. A smile meant for the ship which flew the familiar sun, spear striking it through.

You had been angry and bitter, but that did not change the simple fact that you longed to be in the presence of your brother. Desperately. You wished to put all of this nasty business behind you and embrace him as family again.

As the ship grew closer, you began to register the faces of the crew. How vain he was. Hiding from a bit of rain, no doubt to avoid soiling his clothes. 

Today would be a miserable loss, but perhaps a bearable one now.

The ship docked and you were growing restless. As two familiar Lord’s, advisors to your father, disembarked you wasted no time in approaching them. 

You looked a mess. Tightly bound hair damp, your dress dragging in the wet sand but it simply was no matter to you.

As the advisors took you in, you assumed it was your disarrayed appearance which caused the apprehensive air.

“My Lords, I do hope the journey was all well!” You chirped.

They bowed in greeting, the uneasy look they exchanged going unnoticed. “Quite well, my Princess.”

“I do hope my brother is not fussing over the rain in there. ‘Tis somber all the time here, he must grow used to it. As will both of you I'm sure.”

…

“I am…” Taking a breath in, one of the men paused observing your blissfully ignorant expression. “Prince Qoren sends his sincerest regrets, but he will be absent-”

Your smile dropped as quick as it had appeared. He continued speaking and you stopped listening. Absent.

Absent.

He spoke of duty, he spoke of loyalty. And where was he on this most “auspicious” day. Was each and every reassurance a callous means of pacifying your temper? The fucking traitor. The whole lot of them. Your brother, your father, his council, your home for gods sake! By their will, cast into the fire while they reap the spoils of peace.

What of your peace? Was he so cruel as to not see you off in gratitude for your sacrifice? He was no “exalted” viper, he was a snake.

“... Princess?” One of the advisors questioned, most like realizing your inattention to his excuses on Qoren’s behalf.

Your vacant stare focuses back to the man as you furiously willed your tears to stay put. He sighs and looks at you with pity, aware of your blaring disappointment.

Pulling something from under his cloak, the Lord outstretched his hand with a brown piece of parchment, little water droplets staining the paper as the rain began to intensify. “He tasked us with delivering this to you… it seemed-”

“That is all.”

“Princess…”

Snatching the letter up, you fixed them with a hard glare, a weak manifestation of the anger which seethed within you. A letter. His consolation was even pathetic.

As the two men hurried off, you opened the letter, uncaring of the way the rain lashes at your frame now, the overcast beach full of people hurrying off of the boat.

Dear Sister,

I take no joy in writing this note, for it is with remorse that I must tell you I am unable to attend your wedding ceremony, nor visit you in King’s Landing hereafter. I know you will be angry and I am sorry. I am so very sorry and I beg of you to not lose heart, to not be frightened. I  beseech you to accept my lamentable apologies and understand this is not how I wished this day to go.

-Qoren

You cared not for the rest, only the reaffirmation of your brother's non-attendance. As the rain slid down, your tears mingled with the droplets. Crumpling the letter, you allowed it to drop down in the sand, watching it slowly turn soft from harsh rainfall.

Abandoned by your own family, the gods and men would bear witness to your entrapment. 

[sl-vega]

Hi Vee, I would like to request a sick! gn reader with some of the genshin characters (Yae Miko, Wanderer, Albedo, and Kazuha) where reader can’t really talk all to well cause of said sickness. What sort of shenanigans would ensue as our dear reader tries to communicate. It’d also be really cool if the reader knew a bit of sign language and tried to communicate that way (your choice on whether the characters know it or don’t). Have a lovely morning/day/evening!

NOW I'M (LOVE)SICK

pairings: Yae Miko, Albedo, Wanderer, Kazuha x [GN!] Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, headcanons/drabbles, canon compliant, sick! reader, reader knows sign language

synopsis: in which your s/o tries their best to make you feel better since you've fallen ill

CW: mild language, potentially ooc, vee doesn't know how to do headcanons so you have been warned

additional notes: lol perfect timing for this request cuz I'm actually sick rn // header credits: yae header by @/k1aya on pinterest, albedo header by @/kuno on pinterest, wanderer header by @/ggoldiz on pinterest, Kazuha header by @/detailuffy on pinterest

YAE MIKO-Divina Vulpes

miss girl would be babying you 100%

kinda acts more like your mom than your s/o in this case tbh

"I told you not to go adventuring in the rain!" but then she goes back to saying shit like "aww you poor thing~, let me get some soup for you"

yae would also tease you too, cuz yk, she's yae miko

since she's not human, I don't think she can get sick, well not any human diseases at least

she tries her best to be there for you though, probably reads a bunch of light novels from her publishing house to help you fall asleep

if you try to communicate via sign language to her, she probably just hushes you and grabs your hands so you stop frantically making hand signs

cuz she wants you to get your rest

I think she does know a little sign language, but she never really committed to learning it, she'd gladly start for you though

ALSO

i think she'd turn into her fox form and let you cuddle with her like she's a stuffed animal

totally not projecting rn

ALBEDO-Princeps Cretaceus

he'd def send sucrose over to check on you if he's busy, but once he's done with his work, he is SPRINTING over to check on you

✨he's a runner he's a track star✨

maybe it's just me but I feel like Albedo would be the type of boyfriend that worries over you a lot

when he does come over, he probably has lots of concoctions that are supposed to clear your throat, but they're probably made of...

less than delicious materials

and you aren't becoming your boyfriend's personal test subject no thank you, not today

since he has a little sister, he knows how to take care of you

probably has experience cuz klee would get super sick after running around in the rain for too long-

makes you chicken soup, and tea, the usual

if you try to communicate with him via sign language due to losing your voice, he'll probably have the same reaction as yae

just forces you to go back to sleep

he def knows sign language (mr. genius🙄) but he wants you to get better as soon as possible

klee also comes over at some point, probably tells you some crazy story about how she tried to blow up dawn winery with diona or smth-

her and Albedo also make some get well cards for you once you fall asleep as well <3

WANDERER-Peregrinus

this mf

if you've heard his voice lines you already know what this bastard would say to you

he'd call you weak and say shit like "a small illness has already rendered you helpless? how pathetic..."

THE FACT I CAN PERFECTLY HEAR HIM SAY THAT-

he's a puppet so he's never been sick cuz he can't get sick either

nahida would probably slap him and scold him and tell him to be nicer though

on the inside he's super concerned about you

lowkey, he's afraid of losing you

not that he'd ever admit it-

(tsundere scara for the win)

he's worried that you're going to end up like the child he used to live with, and that you'll become "powerless before your mortality" as he'd like to say

same as yae + albedo, if you'd try to communicate with him via sign language he'll tell you to sleep

(in a slightly aggressive way but he's scara what do you expect?)

i don't think he knows sign language at all tbh

he'll ask nahida about it and he'll probably start borrowing books from the akidemiya and practices in secret for you

he WILL ruin his sleep schedule for you but he'll probably just brush it off and be like: "meh, it was easy."

when in reality this mf has spent an AGONIZING amount of time just to try and impress you

he'll make you tea too, the bitter kind

the VERY bitter kind

oml this sounds like scara slander 😭 dw I actually really like him

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA-Acer Palmatum

like albedo, he'd be super worried about you

tells beidou that he needs to make sure you're okay before the crux leaves for it's next destination

brings you tea, soup, and writes cute little love poems for you while you rest in his lap

tells you stories about his travels while holding your hand and sappy stuff like that

kazuha is a top tier boyfriend fr fr

unlike the others, if you tried to communicate with him via sign language, he let you teach him certain phrases

i think he knows a little bit due to his travels so he's picked up on a bit of it

he thinks it's really cute of how you try to explain things to him since you can't speak so you probably alternate between the hand signs themselves and pen and paper

VERY attentive to you

"slow down love, we have all the time in the world."

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 10

Masterlist || Part Nine

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Steven says immediately after his admission. He doesn’t even give you time to react.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

He stands and starts pacing in front of the couch, carefully stepping around the cushions and pillows scattered on the floor, left there after vacuuming the crumbs from the chairs.

“I haven’t even told you what happened, and as soon as I do, you’re never going to want to speak to me again,” he continues to ramble, scenarios playing out in his head—none of them ending happily for him, you’re sure.

All the while, you’re still caught up in what he said to you.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

That’s what you want, isn’t it? And yet, you feel strange.

The words repeat in your head, threatening to overshadow this past weekend and Steven’s alarmed state.

“You know what? I didn’t mean it. Sorry to inconvenience you. I’ll just see myself to the loony bin now.” He starts to walk away, heading for the door.

He’s actually going to leave.

Your hand shoots out, grabbing his before he can get far. “Steven, wait.”

He stops, his hand twitching in yours, unsure what to do.

“Let’s just…try this again,” you say, tugging him back down onto the couch. He didn’t actually want to leave, it seems. He just doesn’t know what to do, overwhelmed by whatever happened and the unplanned admission.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

You push the words away. Even if Steven genuinely meant them, coming on the heels of a blackout that has him more scared than before renders them almost meaningless.

“I told you everything I know. Now it’s your turn,” you say, and Steven tenses even more.

“I-I don’t know if I—”

“You came here because you needed help. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. No matter what, okay?”

Steven stares at you, nervous.

“What’s the first thing you remember?” you ask softly, squeezing Steven’s hand.

“Are we just…skipping over the embarrassing thing I said?” he asks, trying to tease, but his body is still tense, and his smile is more of a grimace.

You smile at him, trying to think over the heavy thudding in your chest.

“We can talk about that too if you want. After you tell me what you know.” You rest your other hand on top of his, cradling it between both of yours.

Steven looks away, his face flushed. 

Then he takes a shaky breath and tells you everything.

He tells you about the strange dream that possibly wasn’t a dream at all. He mentions waking up in a strange town and the odd man who sent people chasing after him. Steven says he doesn’t remember how he got away and that some of the details are fuzzy.

Throughout the retelling, you get the sense that he’s holding something back, but you have no idea what it could be, not with how open he’s currently being.

“What was so strange about the man?” you asked.

“He was…weird, ya know? Talked like a cult leader or something,” he answered, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Why were they chasing you?”

“They thought I had something. Some artifact? Definitely don’t have anything like that, though.”

Steven couldn’t even tell you where he was.

It was an outrageous story, to be sure. You’re once again tempted to put some sort of tracker on him in case this happens again. Maybe you can ask…

“It couldn’t have been real,” Steven concludes at the end of this tale. “It had to have been a dream, right?” He looks at you, desperate, though for what answers you don’t know.

But you’ve never been in the habit of lying to Steven, and you won’t start now.

“Did it feel like a dream?” you ask. You feel confident it wasn’t, but Steven needs to accept it himself before the two of you can move on to finding a solution.

“No,” he answers quietly, sounding defeated and perhaps a little afraid. You pull Steven into you, wrapping your arms around him.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise. I’ll look for doctors or psychiatrists again. Something.” You hold Steven for a moment longer, relishing his presence, and he yours, when something occurs to you. “That strange man,” you begin slowly, making sure you have Steven’s attention. “Do you think he’ll come after you?”

After what Steven told you, if this man sent people to chase after him on the assumption that he took something, there’s no telling what lengths he would go to.

Steven tenses under your hands before pulling away from you. 

“He wouldn’t. Couldn’t,” he says, though you don’t know if he’s trying to convince you or himself. “He doesn’t even know who I am. And if I didn’t even know where I was, there was no way he could follow me. And I don’t even have the bloody scarab he wanted! He’s got no reason to find me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything. Whatever the artifact is, this scarab Steven mentioned, if it’s valuable enough, some black market dealers will go to any length to ensure their payday.

Instead of saying anything to Steven, you smile and try to appear relieved.

“Let’s not worry about that, about him, okay?”

You don’t doubt that Steven’s telling you the truth about his blackouts, but you can’t help but wonder how someone like him could get involved in business like that.

Skipping the background check was a bad idea.

You immediately scold yourself for the thought.

You know Steven. You trust him. Whatever happened had to have been some sort of mistake.

It had to.

You and Steven didn’t talk about what he said. With everything he told you, you figured it best to wait for that conversation. 

Instead, you make sure he eats something and, remembering his schedule, get him ready for work tomorrow.

When you ask if he wants to stay the night with you, he practically jumps at the chance. Then he hesitates, suddenly looking nervous.

There are a few things still left unsaid.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise,” you tell him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Alright,” Steven says softly, staring at you with tenderness filling his gaze.

In the morning, Steven isn’t beside you. 

Not again.

You check the sheets, searching for his warmth, but find none. It’s almost become a routine at this point.

“Steven?” you call out, heartsick. He’s not in the en suite; the door is left open, and the lights are turned off.

You don’t want to leave your bed, afraid of what you might find. Or rather, what you might not.

But then—

“Downstairs,” called quietly back up to you.

The sound that escapes you would have made your face heat with embarrassment if you weren’t so relieved to hear Steven’s voice. You rush out of bed, not caring about your appearance. He’s seen you like this before anyway so what did it matter?

Steven is in the kitchen, sitting at the table, surrounded by the remnants of his making breakfast.

“Still warm,” he says, pushing a plate toward you. “Just finished up a few minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, sitting across from him. Why did he make you wake up without him?

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You wait, but he seems to rethink whatever was about to come out and remains silent.

Turning to the plate in front of you, letting Steven think, despite how nervous his silence makes you, you look down at the plate he prepared for you. It’s simple. Pancakes topped with the bananas you had browning on the counter. You top them off with the syrup he’d left on the table and dig in.

“I don’t think we should get involved,” Steven blurts, the words coming out in a rush that leaves you choking on your food.

“W-what?” you manage between coughs.

Steven stands and starts pacing in a loop around the table. “I know what I said last night, but you… After this weekend, you shouldn’t want to even be around me.”

“Steven—” you try to interrupt.

“Something’s definitely wrong with me, and who knows where I’ll end up next or what’ll happen or if there will be some other shady man with a bad haircut—”

“Baby, stop,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm, bringing him to a stop.

Steven stares at you, holding his breath.

“Baby, we’re already involved,” you tell him. You’ve been involved since he agreed to meet you to go over the terms of your arrangement. And not once since that meeting have you ever thought about ending things between you. You’ve only grown more attached.

Steven shakes his head but doesn’t pull away from you. “We shouldn’t be,” he argues weakly.

“I want to be.”

His breath catches, and his eyes darken. 

You know what to say next, but the words catch in your throat. You’ve been fighting your feelings for so long now. It’s like your mind is trying to stop you from going any further. You’ve protected yourself from any solid romantic feelings for years, causing you to balk at their rising.

This could end badly, a dark, scared part of you argues. He could hurt you. Break your heart.

You’ve always listened to that voice. It’s worked out well so far. That’s what you’ve always thought, at least.

But you don’t want to listen to it anymore.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” you admit, breathless, like your body couldn’t find the air until you said the words.

The words trigger something in Steven, all the fight visibly leaving him.

And before you realize what’s happening, Steven’s lips are on yours, crashing into you with a fervor you haven’t seen before.

You kiss him back just as fiercely.

“You don’t mean that,” Steven sighs, his lips brushing yours.

“I do,” you pant, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back into you.

You want him even closer, but the angle is all wrong—him towering above you while you’re still in your chair. For now, though, it works, and you don’t want to let him go for a moment, even if it would be to somewhere more comfortable.

Eventually, you and Steven calm down. The kisses turn soft, lingering, instead of the gnashing of teeth and tongues it started as.

“Don’t go to work today,” you say softly, pulling away to look Steven in the eye. You don’t know if you can ask that of him, if you should, but you don’t care.

You want Steven with you. Forget everything else.

His face flushes as he looks down at you. “Okay,” he agrees immediately. “Do you…have something in mind?”

You take Steven in, pupils blown wide, blending into the brown, kiss-swollen lips, his mouth open, panting slightly. You can’t help but smirk a little, guessing his thoughts.

“We need to talk,” you say, standing and stepping away. You need to clear your head, and distance is likely the only thing that will help.

“Talk?” Steven asks, confused.

“If you want to do this, if you want to be more than my baby, things will be different. We’ll need to talk about it first before anything else,” you explain.

Steven frowned. “How different?”

You give him a gentle smile and take his hand, squeezing it. “Just different. Good different.”

You leave him to clean up the kitchen and call in sick to the museum as you return to your bedroom to make yourself more presentable. Giddiness fills you, knowing Steven still wants you after running out of bed and with syrup on your face.

When you go back downstairs, Steven is in the living room, having replaced all the cushions and pillows you had strewn across the floor. He’s staring over the back of the couch at the stairs, waiting for you. He gives you a tentative smile that you easily return.

He reaches for your hand as you round the end of the couch, pulling you down beside him, so close you’d be in his lap if you shifted your legs just a fraction closer.

“Romantic relationships are harder,” you start, needing to say it, to remind yourself, but also to make sure Steven realizes it. You’re giving him an out should he decide he needs one. Much like when you went into detail about your expectations of him as a baby, you want him to know that he doesn’t have to agree to this.

“Are you sure you want to be involved in that way? There’s no going back,” you warn, because there won’t be.

Once this line is crossed, there’s no taking it back for you. You know yourself too well. If this doesn’t work out with Steven, if being your boyfriend—and potentially anything else in the future—is too much, he could never go back to being just your sugar baby.

You will either have all of Steven or none of him.

Steven squeezes your hand, the flush returning to his face.

“I’ve sort of…already told people you were my girlfriend.” He ducks his head in embarrassment but doesn’t try to hide from you. “So, yeah. Very sure I’m sure.”

“You what?” you ask, a little stunned. “Who did you tell?”

“People at work,” Steven starts, sounding apologetic. “Donna was going on about how I couldn’t get a date. So I told her, actually, I’m dating an amazing woman, thank you very much, and she’s too good to be around the likes of you.”

“Did you really say that to her?” you laugh.

“Well, not that last bit. Didn’t actually want to get fired. I wasn’t sure if I should have tried to explain that you pay me, so it just kind of slipped out.”

“You should have told me. I would have put Donna in her place.”

Steven smiles affectionately at you. “I know you would have. But it was alright in the end. She didn’t have much to say after I showed her the pictures of us in Germany.”

You laugh again. “Good!” You loved that trip. You can’t wait to run away with him again. Then, you ask, “Did you tell your mom I was your girlfriend?”

He shakes his head. “But I talk about you enough. I’m sure she suspects.”

“Maybe we can call her again,” you suggest, remembering the one call—or rather, voicemail—you sat in on, how Steven was so excited to have you talk to his mother.

A tenderness filsl Steven’s eyes. “I’d like that.”

You take a moment to envision what all this could mean. What your future with Steven could look like.

It excites you.

“So first things first,” you say, finally ready to go into how things would change once he’s no longer Steven Grant, sugar baby, but Steven Grant, boyfriend. “Obviously, you can keep whatever I’ve given you so far, but I won’t be paying you anymore. That includes your bills.”

“I was never doing this for the money anyway,” Steven assures you, and that surprises you a little. The two of you have never spoken about why he agreed to be a sugar baby even though he’d never done it, never even had it on his radar.

Then again, it wasn’t typically a question you asked any of your babies. The answer was always the same: they did it for the money. Either they wanted it or desperately needed it. People don’t become sugar babies because they want to soothe the loneliness of the wealthy elite. 

“Why were you doing it then?” you ask quietly, unable to guess the answer and unsure if you want to know but need to ask anyway.

Steven flushes again. “Well, when a woman like you said she wanted to take me to dinner, I wasn’t inclined to say no.” He gives a flustered, delighted laugh, remembering the day you asked him out. “And then we got to talking, and I liked you. Really liked you. And you liked me, which was shocking, I must say.”

He runs his thumb across your knuckles, taking a moment before continuing. “When you asked me to be your sugar baby, I figured if that was the only chance I was going to get at being around you, then I was going to take it.”

You’re both pleased and stunned by his admission. To know he was interested in you since the beginning—and not for your money, but just you—makes this feel like a dream. Surely, you are still asleep and will wake up to an empty bed, Steven gone.

But you know you’re awake. Steven thinking the only way to be with you was by being your baby wouldn’t break your heart so much if you weren’t. It hurts because you know it’s true.

Had Steven refused your offer and said he’d rather date you and act like a normal couple, you would have dropped him then and there, never tempted to see him again. It wouldn’t have mattered what you saw in him in those early days, how much you saw yourself in him; you would never have broken your self-imposed rule against traditional dating and relationships. It’s only now, months and overflowing—overwhelming—feelings later, that you’re finally willing to give it, give Steven, a chance.

And now, sitting here with him, you don’t know what to say. A breathless “Oh” is the only thing able to escape your lips because the knowledge that he has only ever seen you leaves you dumbstruck.

Steven must somehow know what you’re feeling, though, because he squeezes your hand, still clutched in his. Then his free hand reaches up and lays on your cheek, thumb lightly stroking it. His eyes don’t waver from yours as he leans in.

This kiss is different from the one in the kitchen. There’s none of the urgency or desperation. It’s soft, gentle, almost chaste, like Steven is trying to tell you something without words.

You guess at what it could be but are afraid to let the thought settle. Things are just beginning with you and Steven. There’s no rush to do anything. If he wants to tell you whatever he’s trying to through touch, you’ll happily wait until he can find the words.

And then, so unexpectedly you can’t help letting out a surprised sound, Steven gently pushes you down onto the couch. He braces himself on his forearms, keeping most of his weight off you. When his lips move along your jaw, you let out a gasp.

“We haven’t finished going over everything,” you say, clutching Steven’s shirt—not to push him away but to keep him close.

Steven lifts his head and grins down at you. “I think i can figure out how to be your boyfriend. Or do you have a list for that, too?” he teases, and your face warms ever so slightly.

“I might,” you mumble. Though now, you’re not sure you need to give it to him.

“You can tell me about it later, then, yeah?” Steven chuckles.

“Yeah,” you agree as you slide one hand up into his curls, pushing his head down so you can kiss him again.

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[agarthanguide]

How the heck do you get Ashton to actually look like a rock? Signed, a fanartist who has tried every brush under the sun but still cannot nail it the way you brilliantly have.

ahhh thank you so much for the kind words!

Answer (sort of)- Ash's palette was hugely up in the air for a really long time. I kept pitching random bits of color at Taliesin, but his write up did not have any specific coloring in it from the get-go. And because I knew they were made of rock, I trended towards something to the left or right of grey (his working/code name had the word grey in it, as well, which def influenced me).

This went on for a while, until one day Tal did his Tal thing and just sent me plans for the finished Ashton. He painted over one of my sketches with the colors he wanted, included refs of some textures. The textures for the skin included nephrite and serpentine (nephrite is one form of jade, serpentine is a whole other thing.)

The serpentine reference had these really bold lines running through it, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to replicate them, so i just... dropped the texture into the sketch. I think I was just checking to see if it was gonna make them unreadable, but it actually looked pretty great. I painted over it a bit to work out where the lines should fall and how to get them to bend around the figure. And then when I was doing the final render, I made a brush that made the fucky line effect. There's one key element to the brush that I will show you-

The shape of the brush is just a random splatter shape, but the angle, size, and roundness change in response to pen pressure, so that as you draw, you can increase the size with added pressure, and some lovely, 3-D helix shapes will start appearing as you go.

From there it's easy- Make an extreme dark and an extreme light in your little texture space, then paint over in variations of green to push things deeper into Ash's "skin" while maintaining a slight transparency.

Here's some other little tips- - Before you add intense, lined texture, start with a textured base. This can be anything. Once I used a picture of the amazon rainforest with heavy color correction. Sometimes I use sponge brushes. Have fun with it. - Try to make the larger textures support the underlying figure. My go-to is large, lazy spirals that shimmy up and down their limbs. - Don't fight the lighting too much. To increase readability, try to use elements of higher or rougher texture to frame the features, while keeping the immediate area of their eyes, for example, less busy.

Good luck, and thanks for the ask!