Tumgik
#and I don’t want my gender or pronouns to mean anything
bg-brainrot · 2 days
Text
WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 19: The Wizard’s Tower
Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)
Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn
Rating: Explicit, 18+
Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence
WC: 9k words, 19/?? chapters
Summary: After traveling through Waterdeep, you and Astarion finally arrive at Gale's tower. Introductions are made, tours are had, and the relationship between yourself and Astarion continues to remain complicated.
A/N: People seem to disagree on whether or not familiars age, but I’m going to go with “no” because Tara is already older than a Tressym’s typical life span in BG3.
Ao3 | [Ch18][Ch20] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist
Tumblr media
Walking through the streets of Waterdeep ought to be faster than this. It should have only taken you an hour to get to Gale's tower, according to Astarion.
However, you're in a new city and every single wonder captures your attention, leading you to stray from your path.
"Astarion, what's that?"
"It's a shop, darling. We have those back in Baldur's Gate."
"I know it’s a shop– gods, you know what I mean!"
Despite his attempts to keep you on track, Astarion doesn’t resist your wanderlust. His hold on your hand remains strong and, with every twist you take, he's being pulled along right behind you. You stop for an odd street stall, finding all manner of knick-knacks. You marvel at a statue, standing grand in the center of a plaza. You pull to an abrupt halt, earning a disapproving grunt from Astarion, when you spot a street performer using magic.
After what must be the tenth detour, Astarion finally tugs back. “Darling, could we please focus? We’ll have time for outings while we’re here, I assure you.”
You look at him, finding his expression to be amused, even if slightly annoyed at you. “We’ll have time to explore the city?” you ask, tentatively. You don’t want to presume that he’ll join you for anything, but the fact that he said ‘we’ gives you hope.
“Yes,” he answers, tugging on your arm once more. “But only if we make it to Gale’s without missing his celebration. Otherwise, we will never hear the end of it.”
“Fine,” you say, allowing Astarion’s hand to pull you in the proper direction. “Though I’ll admit, I’m a bit nervous.”
Astarion raises an eyebrow at you, purses his lips some as he asks, “About meeting Gale? Whatever for?”
You avoid his gaze, focusing on the road ahead of you as you respond, “It’s odd meeting someone you’ve only ever dreamt about. I know so much about you all, but you don’t know me. He may not even recognize me. How do I approach that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Astarion starts. You can sense an incoming joke at your expense, so you brace yourself for his next words. “Maybe something along the lines of ‘You’re the man of my dreams’, that worked wonders on me.”
You wince despite the preparation. “Excuse you, that is not what I said. Besides, I didn’t dream nearly as much about Gale. I don’t think you understand how nervous I was to meet you.”
Looking back up at Astarion, you note that he is focused, staring forward as he leads the way. Despite that, you also spot unabashed satisfaction on his face. His tone is just as self-satisfied as he replies, “I would expect no less.” Then a thought occurs to him and his tone shifts, thoughtful and a bit more reserved as he says, “Though that may have been lingering guilt, I suppose.”
Your reaction is immediate and a bit overdue. “Not at all,” you say, stopping Astarion in his tracks as you pull on his arm. "I didn't come find you out of any type of obligation or guilt. I came to find you for you. I set out before I knew anything other than… than love.”
The vampire is forced to stop, look at you and your serious poise with his full attention. He doesn’t seem to believe you, and it becomes more evident when he says, “I’m sure. Certainly explains why you and my siblings have been such fast friends.”
Astarion continues to walk, yanking you after him a bit more roughly this time. Your voice is a bit breathless as you follow in a rush, “Yes, I’ll admit that after I arrived I– I let myself get a bit carried away.” The man snorts from ahead of you. “But that was never my intention when I left Neverwinter. I just couldn’t get you out of my damned mind. You can ask my parents if you’d like.”
The line of his shoulders seems to relax a bit, but he remains focused on navigating the streets of Waterdeep, ignoring your burning gaze. After a few blocks of silence, he speaks, “What are they like?”
“Who?” Your mind has wandered by now, thinking of how, were it not for Astarion’s initial chilly reception, you may never have met with Dal in the first place. Then deciding that, no, ultimately you would always have found the spawn, one way or another.
“Your parents,” he mumbles, barely audible over the buzz of the city. “What are they like?”
Oh! He’d been so reluctant to learn about you as your own person that the question catches you by surprise. Once you collect yourself, you’re only too excited to answer. Your words come out fast, unfiltered, “Well, they’re both elves, of course. They came to live in Neverwinter after meeting through their trade. It’s how they were able to send me to the best college for the arcane arts in the city. My mother is fairly practical, logical. She didn’t want me to come all the way out here, but, erm, came around to it eventually. I suppose I get my curiosity from my father, but, even so, I think you would quite like him…”
As your words trail off, you realize that Astarion’s slowed down, listening to you. “It’s odd,” he says, turning his head back ever so slightly. A worried crease lines his brow. “I am rather more concerned with what they would think about me.”
The admission leaves you a touch speechless. At first because of the vulnerability in Astarion’s fleeting look– Then because you’re honestly not sure how to answer. It would likely be a lie to say that they would love him. Your mother especially would hold no mercy for a man as mercurial as he is. But you decide that your words need not be so severe, “I think they would grow to adore you.”
“I see,” he mutters, accepting your word choice with as much grace as you suppose he can muster.
How I wish he would meet them, you think. But that’s not something ‘friends’ do, is it? Perhaps he thinks Gale really has a chance to stop me. Given his experience, does he actually have a chance?
You don’t have much more time to consider that question because Astarion pulls to a stop before a grand set of doors. They’re made of wrought iron, engraved in runes and intricate patterns, lined with a shimmer of blue magic. You recognize the runes as teleportation runes, and given the outer facade of the building, easily surmise that this isn’t the exact location of a wizard’s tower, just an entrance.
“Is this…?” you ask.
“It is,” Astarion says, flashing you a smile. You’re not sure what the look on your face is, but he is drinking it in with glee.
It’s just past midday, and you’ve finally arrived at Gale’s doors.
Astarion releases your hand to reach the door. You’d gotten so used to moving as a singular unit, that his sudden absence leaves you a bit off-kilter, as if a part of you is missing. You can't help but flex your hand open and closed a few times to return to yourself, to return to the present.
Once he’s reached the doors, you spot a large iron knocker in the center of them: the head of a tressym in high relief, a ring set between its sharp teeth. Astarion grips the ring, knocks it against the door three times in rapid succession.
A voice comes through the tressym a moment later, and you recognize the Magic Mouth spell. Gale’s voice is cheery, exactly as you’d remembered it from your dreams, as he says, “Welcome to the tower of Archmage Dekarios. To enter, please supply the phrase that he undoubtedly provided you with. Knock thrice more for emergency assistance.”
Astarion shoots you a look, as if to say, ‘see what I must put up with?’ then clears his throat before uttering his phrase, “'For the jubilation of one magnanimous mage, I, Astarion Ancunín, am enchanted to be granted entrance.”
The iron on the doors immediately begins to shift, unlocking whatever mechanism lies behind them. Several loud clunks and thunks later, the massive doors open to a glowing blue portal.
“Does he make you say that every time you visit him?” you ask, barely holding back your laughter.
“Oh no,” Astarion replies, gesturing you forward. “It’s a different damned phrase every year. And it seems to be a torture uniquely reserved for me. Elminster simply gets different types of cheese for his phrases.”
You follow his guiding hands, stepping through the blue portal, feeling the world behind you vanish and shift in hues of blues, not unlike the teleportation circle you used to get here. As soon as your foot touches the ground before you, the inside of Gale’s tower comes into focus.
Immediately, you feel electricity in your veins– the weave is strong here. You could only dream of having your own wizard’s tower, but you know enough about them to know their basic principles. They’re often built on spots where the weave is most highly concentrated. It’s often why they’re crafted in such odd shapes, in such inconvenient locations, and built to such great heights. It’s all in an effort to amplify the magic they’re built upon. 
This tower is no different. You can’t quite tell the shape of the full tower, but the room you’re in is a semi-circle, lined with books and featuring several cozy looking couches. It’s quite possibly one of the loveliest waiting rooms you’ve ever had the chance to be welcomed in. You’re practically entranced and only vaguely register when Astarion asks from your side, “Have I lost you to the books already?”
He might have, if not for the rustling sound coming from behind you. You make an abrupt turn, only to come face to face with the man of the hour himself: Gale Dekarios steps through a set of blue, velvet curtains, wearing a set of purple robes and a gentle smile.
Unlike Halsin, who had hardly changed, only sporting a few new scars and wrinkles, or Astarion, who looks entirely unchanged, Gale looks like a new man. Or rather a very old man.
Where there was once a short, brown beard there is now a lush, wavy white beard in its place, neatly trimmed and manicured to perfection. His previously long, brown hair is white as well, carefully brushed back from his face, giving you a full view of his age-dappled features. Gale’s deep, brown eyes are as sharp as ever, surrounded by a webbing of wrinkles well-worn from a life full of joy. Your heart swells at the sight of him, looking every bit the witty sage from your memories, albeit greyer and a fair bit more lined.
You almost don’t recognize him, save that unmistakable glint in his eyes, the patient smile as he takes you and Astarion in.
Gale is the first to speak, his words aimed for Astarion, but his warm gaze falls entirely on you. “Oho, Astarion! Is this the guest you spoke of? I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised upon receiving your invitation confirmation. A guest, for the first time!”
What? you think in a sudden crack of panic. He didn’t tell him who I am?
You flash a distressed look at Astarion, who is only looking at Gale with annoyance. “Gods Gale, must you make a fuss out of everything?”
“It’s not every day that your oldest and dearest friend finds someone new worth cherishing. I was starting to grow rather fearful that you’d get old and wrinkled in your lonesome.” Gale’s smile is a bit mischievous as he turns away from you, to Astarion’s ire.
The words sound like playful jabs from Gale, but Astarion’s glower only seems to deepen. He looks just about ready to hiss like a cornered cat when you interject, “Not someone new per say. An old flame, actually.”
Astarion turns his glare to you, but it’s Gale who responds, “Phenomenal! Astarion, you sly dog, never giving even the slightest indication. When did you find each other, how long have you two been together? And how do you put up with him?”
You’ve only just entered the tower, and already the vampire looks at his wit’s end. Their friendship had always been entertaining to you when you had the chance to dream of it– they’re opposite in so many ways, alike in so many others. As such, Astarion’s flared nostrils and irritated stance come as no surprise. Neither do his clipped words as he struggles to respond to the wizard’s sudden enthusiasm, “What they meant to say is that they are– Well. They happen to be…”
His lips seem unable to say the words aloud, so you take it upon yourself to help. Stepping forward and standing tall, you look your friend and companion Gale Dekarios in the face and say, “It’s me, Gale.”
You’re not sure what you expect when you say the words. Perhaps a question, ‘who?’, or a confused, concerned look. Maybe even Astarion elbowing you in the side.
However, the wizard before you only takes a single beat. For that moment, he looks at you, with those same, familiar sharp eyes, before recognition settles in.
Then his arms are wrapping you in a warm embrace.
“My friend,” he murmurs into the hug, squeezing you tighter with a pair of ropy arms. “I can’t believe it.”
Your own arms respond in kind, crushing him back with your own youthful vigor. “I know, it’s a lot.” And it truly is– your own heart is pounding in your chest, your eyes are welling up with moisture. Astarion was your lover, but Gale? Gale has only ever been your friend. You’d saved the world together. You’d spent countless nights researching and planning together, spent even more simply enjoying each others’ company. And, unlike when you met with Halsin, you now feel so much more comfortable in your former identity. You feel comfortable claiming this hug for yourself.
Outside of your bubble of joy, you hear Astarion clear his throat pointedly. “While this is all incredibly touching, perhaps we can head into the tower before you both break each other in half?”
Gale releases you, as you do him, and you both turn to shoot daggers at Astarion. “Don’t mind him,” you say to the wizard. “He’s just jealous that it took him the longest to recognize me.”
“Of course,” Gale responds with a hearty chuckle. “Astarion has always been uniquely undiscerning when it comes to you.”
The man in question looks between you, face set in a grimace. “Gods below, I’m having the most unpleasant flashbacks.” You don’t need Detect Thoughts cast to see his thoughts written on his face. Something along the lines of, ‘This was a terrible idea.’
Gale ignores him, turning back to you in utter glee. “We have so much catching up to do!” he says, arms open wide. Then begins one of his customary rambles, “By Mystra’s grace, elves are fascinating. I knew you would reenter the Material Plane, but I had no idea it would happen so quickly. Not to mention, from my studies, elves typically don’t revisit past lives– part of ensuring that your kind continues to progress, I’ve been told. That being said, I am ecstatic that you’ve gone against the grain, my friend–”
You’re enjoying a long-lived human’s perspective on your reborn soul, but Astarion clearly doesn’t share your same sentiment. “Yes, yes,” he says, waving a hand. “Very interesting, I’m sure. However, it’s been a long couple of days, Gale. Could we please focus?” You’re reminded of when he asked you to focus on the way here and can’t help the snicker that leaves you. Astarion points an accusatory finger at you, “And you. Stop encouraging him.”
You hold up your own hands in innocence. “I’m only being a polite guest! Gale, thank you for having us.” Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re reminded of your past-self saying the same phrase of thanks every time you and Astarion came to visit.
“It’s my pleasure,” Gale says, his smile widening at the familiar words. “Now, could I interest you both in a drink?”
“We should drop by our lodgings first,” Astarion responds, before you can agree to a drink. “Or do you not want to deposit that enormous pack of yours?”
You blink at the vampire. The pack was growing rather annoyingly heavy, but you, again, hadn’t given much thought to your lodgings. A slight dread begins to build. “Where will we be staying?”
Gale turns around, gesturing for you both to follow. “Why one of the guest rooms, of course!”
One. You try to catch Astarion’s eye as you begin to follow Gale, any amount of his attention, any indication that he’s panicking internally as much as you are. Is he going to be comfortable sharing a room? Will we be sharing a bed?
The man’s face doesn’t react to Gale’s words– in fact, it remains utterly impassive as he says to you, “Don’t worry, darling. Despite his being a senile old man, Tara makes sure the place stays well kept.”
Tara! Gale’s familiar hadn’t appeared in your reveries often, only arriving for a spot of tea or to join you in chiding Gale to settle down. But your memories of her are fond and your question comes with a natural excitement, “Is Tara here?”
Gale takes you up a set of stairs as he responds with a cheerful look back at you, “She is out currently– procuring several items we still need for the celebration. But she should be back in no time. She shall be delighted to see you.”
His words warm you, glad that he’s had someone all these years. Then, remembering your past-self’s insistence and considering no one else showed up to welcome you, you ask Gale, “Did you ever listen to us? Find yourself a partner?”
Based on the way his shoulders hunch a bit, he slows as he continues to climb the stairs, you’re afraid you’ve delved too deep too soon. “Oh yes. Shortly after losing you, I found someone. I’m sorry you never had the chance to meet them.”
Guilt eats at your chest, knowing that he means that ‘sorry’, and wishing that he wouldn’t have to feel any regret. “I’m sorry, Gale, I shouldn’t have pried.”
“No need to apologize,” he says, continuing on briskly once more. “It was a lovely experience. But life goes on.”
You can’t help but look at Astarion as Gale says those words, wondering what he made of Gale’s lost love. What he made of Gale’s continuation after the fact. Perhaps, as two beings with lives beyond measure, their friendship evolved beyond trading barbs in the years after your death. Perhaps they could be there for each other, when everyone else passed on.
Astarion’s face betrays nothing as his red eyes meet yours in the dimly lit stairwell. “Darling?” he asks.
“Nothing,” you respond, turning back to Gale to change the subject. “I’ve only dreamt of parts of your tower, Gale. Would you be willing to give me a tour?”
“I would be overjoyed,” he says, climbing over the last step of the stairs. “Once you’ve had a moment to rest, let me know and I shall be right over.”
Following him out of the stairwell, you’re left in the curve of a hallway, several doors lining the outer wall– likely Gale’s guest rooms. “Amazing,” you say, looking left, right, up. “This tower is built in such an intricate way. What type of material did you use to ensure that the weave stayed stable?”
The wizard stops short of the first door and looks back at you. You can feel his appraising gaze, as if just taking in your robes, the spellbook at your hip, the inquisitive gleam in your eyes. “By the outer planes, are you trained in the arcane arts?”
You nod eagerly, your enthusiasm getting the better of you. “I am. I’ll confess, I was looking forward to meeting you as a scholar as well.”
The energy exchanged between you is palpable, and you sense that Gale is about to start on another lengthy diatribe about his tower, when Astarion clicks his tongue. “For the love of all that is unholy, could you two not wait until the tour?”
“Right you are, Astarion,” Gale says, smiling at you all the while. “What a fortuitous calling you’ve found, my friend. I look forward to imparting as much as I can.”
“More like a divinely ironic calling,” Astarion murmurs under his breath, pushing past Gale. “Which room is ours?”
“The third door,” the wizard responds, otherwise ignoring the man as he continues to speak to you. “It’s been a while since he’s been this prickly. He must be glad to be visiting with you again.”
“I can still hear you,” Astarion calls, as he opens the door down the hall.
You ignore Astarion as well as you respond in a quieter voice, “He’s been like that since I arrived on his doorstep. If it weren’t for my dreams of him, I’d have thought he was a prickly pear, not a man.”
The two of you share a laugh together before Gale continues down the hallway. “I apologize for before,” he says. When you only offer him a confused look, he continues, “For when I thought you were a new love of his. I truly should have known better. Astarion would have needed another half dozen centuries to get over you.”
You don’t know what to say to that, but Astarion looks at you both from the doorway to your shared room. His eyes are dark, looking only at Gale, as he says, “That’s enough, Gale. Let us take a moment to unpack.”
Gale reads his friend’s expression with a patience you wish to possess someday. “I shall see you both later for a tour and some tea then?”
“Yes, please,” you reply, entering the room after Astarion. “And, thank you again, Gale.”
“Think nothing of it, my friend.” The wizard leaves you both with one last smile and a small wink, whisking off with the energy of a much younger man.
Now that you’re finally in the room, Astarion lights the lantern by the entrance and closes the door behind you. Looking into the space, you spot an armoire, a changing screen, a pair of armchairs, a couch, and then– just as you’d been afraid of, a single, large bed.
You focus your energy on keeping your voice calm, your breathing steady, even as your heart races. “So,” you start, dropping your pack on the ground and turning to face Astarion. “You didn’t tell him I was coming.”
“I told him I was bringing a guest,” is all that he says back.
“But not who I was?”
“I responded to his invitation weeks ago. It slipped my mind,” he says with a shrug.
The nonchalant look on his face is driving you mad. You’re not sure how this man can make you feel so many different emotions in one day, but by the gods does he manage it. “So you neglected to mention that we weren’t exactly lovers in your letter?” You gesture to the solitary, perfectly fluffed bed.
“Excuse me,” Astarion says, pacing to the armoire to begin unpacking his clothing. “I received enough helpful words from Dal, I didn’t want an entire speech from Gale before even arriving. Besides, it’s sharing a bed, darling. It’s not exactly the erotic act that you’re making it out to be.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” you say, disregarding his words.
“Nonsense, we’re grown elves. We can trance in the same bed without issue,” he says with an eye roll. “And if I’m such a temptation to you, why did you agree to be friends so easily?” he counters, raising an accusatory eyebrow at you. After the weeks you’ve had together, he knows full well that he’s a temptation to you. But if he thinks you’ll give him the satisfaction, then you suppose you know what you must do.
“Fine, the same bed it is. You’re the one who will suffer when I have a bad trance,” you grumble, beginning to take your items out of your pack as well.
Astarion crosses his arms, watching you as you lay out your robes. “I would hardly mind, darling. I tranced next to your past-self for years without issue.”
You suppose it’s true, though you can’t imagine what their trances were like. Your reveries of their life are the most visceral– it’s hard to imagine that they did anything but sleep peacefully. Instead, you ask another question that’s bothering you, aside from the bed, “So what are we supposed to tell Gale? That we’re… friends?”
“Naturally,” Astarion replies, sitting down in an armchair with a content sigh. “He’ll understand. It’s part of living a long life.”
You nod, continuing to unpack in silence, mind filled with thoughts of their long lives. After a few minutes, you ask Astarion another question, “Why didn’t you tell me about Gale’s former love? I might have avoided bringing it up.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, simply filled with a dejected sadness you aren’t able to stifle.
Astarion lifts his head, which had settled back in the armchair’s plush comfort. His words are solemn, honest. “Unlike the rest of our former companions, Gale is still alive. It is his story to tell, if he wishes.”
It makes sense, but you still feel the guilt of hurting him in the pit of your stomach. Not unlike the guilt you felt rehashing Astarion’s past memories. “Can you at least tell me this? How did they die?”
“Old age,” Astarion supplies. “And before you ask, no, they weren’t an elf. They won’t be popping up on his doorstep unannounced like some kind of bookish ghost.”
“He never considered extending their lifespan? There are plenty of–”
“No,” Astarion interrupts, looking at you with tired eyes. “They didn’t want that, and he respected their wishes. An extended life isn’t for the faint hearted.”
You gulp, feeling the guilt bubble up again at the question you inevitably want to ask, once more afraid of hurting Astarion. “And is that how you feel?”
“I don’t know anymore.” His words are quieter, barely loud enough for you to hear, and you can’t read his expression as his head ducks. His head is back up a moment later, a nervous little smile playing on his lips. “Well, if you have much more left to unpack, I actually meant to have a word with Gale. Shall we meet you downstairs?”
“Oh, sure,” you respond, pushing your guilt and curiosity back down. You suspect you already know what he wants to talk to Gale about. “I’ll be down shortly.”
When you do arrive downstairs shortly, neither man is present. I doubt they’ll be done any time soon, you think, beginning to poke around the room. I’ll find something to read while I wait.
That’s how you find yourself perusing through Gale’s carefully curated selection of waiting room books. And sweet hells is it curated well. It’s all you can do to keep from bouncing off the walls.
After picking up and dismissing several books, you settle on one that truly interests you. “Is this a first edition of Elameth's Compendium?” you ask no one in particular, flipping through the pages of a large, red tome. In it, the elven enchanter Elameth details a variety of magical artifacts, how to craft them, and how to dismantle them.
You’re surprised to receive a response as you flip the pages. “Oh my yes. Mr. Dekarios is quite fond of that particular compendium.”
Your head snaps up at a familiar voice, a feminine, unaffected voice, distinctly posh in its lilt. When you turn toward its source, you look down to see a small, cat-like creature peering up at you. “Tara?” you ask.
“I am she, yes,” the small, but proud creature says, tilting her head at you. “And who, may I ask, are you to be rifling through Mr. Dekarios’ books?”
She doesn’t seem mad at you, rather quite curious as her large green eyes inspect you. Will she believe you as easily as Gale did? Her eyes are staring at you so intently that your voice catches a bit as you begin to talk, “I– I am–”
“Ah, I see it now, my dear,” the tressym says, taking a few steps toward you with her feline-like gait. “No need to explain yourself. You’re Mr. Dekarios’ old friend, aren’t you? You look a tad different, but then again, so do most people that have died before.”
You blink, surprised at how little you needed to say for her to recognize you. “Yes, that’s me. How did you know?”
“A lady’s intuition, darling,” she says, lifting her head proudly a bit. “However, you also have that same air about you. Mr. Dekarios will be quite pleased to see you again.”
“We, erm, re-met each other earlier today,” you say, closing the book in your hands and turning to the tressym. “How have you been, Tara?”
“Very well, thank you for asking,” she bows her head a bit in acknowledgement. “You are far more polite than that wicked vampire you call a mate. Thank goodness you’re back, if only for that pale man’s sake.”
You laugh, vaguely recalling some of Astarion’s previous encounters with Tara. They got along about as well as two opposing felines would. “Has he been very difficult without me?”
“Oh yes,” she says, and her wings shuffle a bit in discomfort. “Nigh impossible to deal with. I don’t know how Mr. Dekarios puts up with him.”
You’re about to ask another question when her ears perk up, shoot back. “Well now, it seems like he and Mr. Dekarios are on their way to you. I am still working on preparations for the celebration, so do keep Mr. Dekarios occupied until I have need of him.”
You’d already planned on thoroughly distracting the wizard with questions about his tower and are only too happy to keep the tressym pleased. “Of course, Tara.”
She purrs a hum of approval before turning around. With a “ta-ta, darling” she leaves you waiting for the imminent arrival of Gale and Astarion.
The two arrive from behind the blue, velvet curtain less than a minute later. “Oh hello,” you say, looking at them from over the book you’d reopened.
Astarion looks to be in a better mood, though Gale looks distinctly less happy. It’s Astarion who speaks first, “Hello, darling. Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long?”
The warmth of his words comes as a bit of a surprise. You look back to Gale, who is smiling at you sadly. I see , you think. Astarion thinks Gale will convince you to leave your project be– that he can grow attached to you now because you won’t be leaving him in the lurch. No matter, you think. This changes nothing for me.
So you respond with the same enthusiasm, “Not at all! I was just looking through the excellent book selection you have, Gale.” You hold up the red tome in your hand and his expression immediately lights up once again.
“Elameth's Compendium! Why, we used that book in your prior life, don’t you remember?” he says, his crow’s feet becoming more pronounced as he smiles.
You shake your head. “Unfortunately not. I didn’t receive every memory. And admittedly…” You look at Astarion who is looking at you rather smugly, knowing exactly what you’d told him multiple times now. The smug look will certainly only get worse with your words, but you also want to discuss your memories with Gale, as the sage and scholar that he is. “Most of my reveries were about Astarion.”
At that, Gale looks between the two of you, a pensive hand stroking his beard. “Fascinating,” is all that he offers.
“Yes,” you agree, ready to provide more information, to receive any and all theories he has about you and your memories. But, of course, the subject of your memories refuses to be excluded for long.
“Maybe if your evenings researching together were less dreadfully dreary you might have dreamt of more of them,” Astarion offers with a flip of his hand. “Now, shall we begin with the tea or the tour?”
The three of you decide to begin with a tour. 
Gale leads the way, his mane of long, white hair guiding your path forward. As a tour guide, he’s clearly well practiced, describing each room in detail, explaining its purpose, and even peppering in the odd anecdote or memory from your past life.
You go through a sauna, heated with fire runes. You walk past his actual library, filled head to toe with books of all kinds. You drop by his study, and its sweet scent of ink trails after you. An astronomy room, a storage room, a dining room, a sitting room– you begin to wonder how tall this tower truly is from its exterior. Gale explains that he’s had to renovate a few dozen times over the years, to ensure that the tower’s magic remains stable. As such, rooms come and go with a few, necessary exceptions.
Even among all of these extraordinary rooms, a few stand out to you, clear gems in the wizard's remarkable living space.
“This is the alchemy room, where I grow plants and create my various concoctions! I’m quite proud to say that you’ll find some plants that grow even on the other side of Faerûn. I’ve created many an interesting tonic– I’d exercise some caution if you find yourself in here. Why one time…” He trails off into a story about how Tara turned purple for a week. She was not amused, apparently.
“And this is the experimentation room, where I bring anything that may be dangerous to test. There are a variety of different materials for me to test spells and artifacts on, and the room is warded with a wide assortment of protection wards to make sure that the rest of the tower is unaffected. It certainly is helpful when it comes to any errant magic, wouldn’t you say Astarion?” The look Astarion shoots him is that of a man who has seen one too many Fireballs in his life.
“Now this is the enchanting room, where I create magical artifacts. Now this includes your customary garden-variety fare, but I do have the opportunity to create a few rarer objects, such as the sunlight rings that I craft for the spawn. You'll find that I boast all types of spell components and even have a few specialized work benches, infused with various magical properties.”
You want to stay in this room for hours, you want to look through each and every book, peruse the shelves, test out the recipes that are strewn about the place. But you hold back, merely asking Gale a few questions about where he sources his materials, whether or not he had a bench for each school of magic, and how long it took to create a sunlight ring.
Easier questions answered, you eventually ask him, “Is this where we worked on our ring designs together?”
Gale takes a quick glance at Astarion before nodding. “Yes, precisely. That’s exactly the type of thing we used to work on.”
You elect to ignore his word choice, pressing on, “I had a dream about that just last night. We’d settled on a ring made of silver, it had slotting for an inlay along its edge.”
Recognition passes over Gale’s eyes before he bows his head wearily. “One of the last times we spoke. That was our most promising candidate.”
You already know that much. Despite the way Astarion’s eyes tighten around the corners, the way that Gale’s sadness creases his mouth around his beard, you continue, “I had an idea I would love to speak to you about. Would you have time before your birthday festivities?”
The wizard’s head lifts back up, the sadness reaching his eyes now. “I think it’s best if we leave that part of our past behind us, wouldn’t you say?”
Luckily, you’d prepared for such a response, expecting it. From your memories, from understanding who he is, what Astarion might have said to him, you think you know just what to say. “I wouldn’t. At least, not until I figure out one last thing. I have memories of the necromancer’s notes. Untouched, unbloodied, but undeciphered. I just need someone to delve into my mind and pull them out. If it amounts to nothing, well, maybe I could move on. But a wizard once told me, my intuition has rarely led us astray.”
Neither of your companions say anything to this, but you can tell see the wheels turning in Gale’s mind. He’d tried, just as you had, to remove the blood from the notes. He’d attempted, just as you had, to decipher what was left. Here you were, offering him the key to a century and a half’s mystery. He’d be remiss to not take you up on it. 
Astarion, for his part, is simply looking at you. His red eyes seem to glow in the enchanting room’s magical lighting. You wonder if he believes you, that this will be your final attempt to try, that you would leave it be if it amounted to nothing.
I just know it will amount to something though, you think to yourself. I refuse to let it lead nowhere, not when I feel so close.
Gale interrupts your thoughts. “Well, I shall have a think on it and let you know later. For now, let me show you both to our last stop: the kitchen! Where we can also enjoy a lovely, little morsel and a cup or two of tea.”
Musings pushed aside for now, the three of you head to the kitchens for a late lunch. With all of Gale’s commentary, Astarion’s snarky interjections, and your own questions, the tour ended up being quite a few hours. You’re ravenous by the time the tea kettle rings and Gale shuffles about his kitchen preparing an afternoon meal for you all.
“Do you need any help, Gale?” you ask, scooting your chair back, ready to get up and join the wizard as he flits back and forth.
“No need, my friend. You are a guest after all,” he assures you, with a wave. A blue, spectral hand floats behind him, opening and closing doors for him as he artfully arranges what seems to be a hearty assortment of various meats and cheeses. “I may have aged a touch, but I assure you that I am every bit the gourmet chef I have always been.”
“Right,” Astarion mutters under his breath. “Every bit as capable of giving an entire adventuring party food poisoning.”
You chuckle at Astarion’s comment, only to recall that Astarion hasn’t had a real basis for Gale’s food since his early days of pretending not to be a vampire. Since then, his main diet has consisted of blood and wine, which you haven’t seen him partake in in over a week. “Aren’t you hungry?” you whisper to the man, leaning over to him in the event that Gale shouldn’t overhear.
His red eyes meet yours, and, as always, you can see the underlying hunger in them. It’s fruitless to ask, you realize. He’ll always be hungry. 
“I’m managing. Don’t you worry about me– Focus on getting your noisy stomach to quiet down.” He shoots you a wry smile, but you can’t help but worry regardless.
“Fine, but once that’s quieted, I will be bothering you again,” you say, pointing a finger at him menacingly.
“What’s this about noisy stomachs?” Gale asks, walking over with a plate stacked full of meats, cheeses, smears, breads, and assorted fruits. Far too much food for the two of you who could eat it– Perhaps more than would feed you for a week. “Why, I have just the remedy.”
The three of you, well Gale and yourself, enjoy the feast he’s prepared for you, chattering all the while about the various things you’ve seen in his tower, what he’s gotten up to in the last hundred and fifty years, and your life back in Neverwinter. You’re surprised when even Astarion chimes in with his own questions about your current life.
You learn about Gale’s latest research. They learn about your time at the arcane college in Neverwinter. Collectively, you reminisce about times that you’ve only witnessed through dreams. 
Together you have a pleasant afternoon, one that quickly turns into evening as you continue to chat. The entire conversation and atmosphere bring about a warmth you’d missed in your ‘normal’ life. Seated at Gale’s round kitchen table like this, you can almost pretend that this is your life. Perhaps it is now.
It’s only after a small “Ahem, ahem” interrupts Gale’s latest recounting of a particularly explosive application of the Weave that you all realize how late it’s gotten. “Mr. Dekarios, I’m glad that you and your friend have gotten reacquainted, but I am afraid I require your assistance in the dining room.”
“Tara! Of course, I shall pop right on over.” Gale turns to you and Astarion, smiling at you both in turn. “Well, my friends. It seems I’m needed for the party preparations. I hope you don’t mind my absence.”
“Not at all, Gale,” you respond, bowing your head in acknowledgement. “Hosting is plenty of work without my showing up here unaccounted for.”
“Nonsense!” Gale cries, standing up from his chair with a few creaking bones. “Why this may be the best birthday present I’ve ever received.”
His words sound so genuine, his smile so sincere, that you nearly miss what he’s said. A birthday present. Oh gods, I need to get him a present. “Say, Gale,” you say, catching his attention before he leaves. “When is the party proper?”
“Oh, right.” He gives a lighthearted chuckle, looking at Astarion as he does so. “You’ll forgive me for the befuddling schedule– it’s the only way I can ensure Astarion actually shows up on time. You know how he likes to avoid people.”
“Not to worry, I understand.” You snicker, only to earn an indignant elbow from Astarion. 
Gale looks between you two knowingly, and you feel your face flush under his sympathetic eyes. “Well, let’s see…” The man begins a countdown on his fingers. “Including tonight, the party is in five nights.”
“Oh!” you breath out, surprised. Plenty of time to explore the city, to hopefully speak to Gale, and, most importantly, acquire a present for him. “Sounds lovely. Thank you, Gale.”
“My pleasure,” he says. “I shall see you two on the morrow then.” Gale gives you both one last wink before following Tara out of the kitchen.
That’s how you and Astarion are left alone once more. The silence that settles between you is all at once easy and yet deeply uncomfortable. You want to fill it with something, but what can you say? That you know he wants Gale to dissuade you from your goals? That you haven’t known a peace like this in your entire lifetime and you’re afraid it isn’t meant to be yours?
Whatever it is, you need to say something, to fill the silence. You turn toward him in your seat and begin, “Astarion–”
“Darling, I–”
You both stop before you start, realizing that you’re interrupting each other. You’re the first to collect your bearings. “Go ahead, Astarion.”
He smiles at you and the tenderness in his eyes is difficult to miss, catching you off guard. “I just wanted to thank you.” When you only offer him a puzzled look, he elaborates, “For coming with me. I know it was a bit of a gamble for you after, well, everything. But this is already proving to be more… tolerable, than most years.”
His words spark a tingle in your chest, cause a warmth to bloom on your cheeks. It’s a compliment of sorts, and one that you weren’t expecting to receive. Given his sullen attitude and snarky comments, you’d expected a half-sarcastic, ‘This has been riveting.’
But the man never fails to surprise you. So you’re left speechless, nodding at his thanks, unsure of how to accept them.
“Now, what had you wanted to say, darling?” he asks, expression back in a confident mask, as if his words hadn’t just blanketed you in a deluge of emotions.
What had you meant to say? Right. You had wanted to fill in the silence, which seems almost banal in the wake of his sincere thanks. You comb through your own thoughts as quickly as you can, trying to find a reason to speak, to answer his expectant gaze.
“Would you like some blood?”
He blinks at you and you blink back, as if neither of you had expected you to say this. His response comes a moment later, a bit guarded, “I suppose I could use a snack. But with all of the day’s travel and your rather delicate constitution, are we sure that’s the best idea, darling?”
It may not have been your first or most pressing thought, but now that you’ve said it, you realize that feeding him is still quite important to you. So you press on. “I’ll be fine. It’s plenty late and I’ll be able to sleep off any ill effects,” you assure him.
“In that case, perhaps we first head back to our room? That way I won’t have to carry your limp body up several flights of stairs.” His use of ‘our’, his quick acceptance of your offer, it all feels so surreal. Maybe that’s what friendship means to him, but it’s sending you and your body mixed signals.
Either way, you agree without argument, and you both head back to your shared quarters.
Once you’re standing in the center of the room, you ask, “Where would you like me?” 
Astarion raises a suggestive eyebrow at you. “Oh, you absolute fiend. Here I was, thinking that a bite on the wrist was already quite intimate.”
“Astarion,” you chide, ignoring the way his low, sultry voice sets your skin alight. “I meant, would you prefer the bed, the couch, maybe a chair?”
“How dull, darling. The bed then,” he says, gesturing toward the yet untouched plush, blue bedding. 
You follow his direction and sit on the bed. After taking a quick breath, you get to work, rolling up the sleeve of your robe for him and exposing the tender flesh of your wrist to him. “Here you are,” you say, holding out your wrist to him as he takes a spot next to you.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, taking hold of your wrist, angling it back and forth between his cold fingers, as if trying to find just the right spot to bite.
“What’s the matter?” you ask, after the third rotation.
“It’s nothing, dear,” he says, fingers trailing the line of veins extending from your wrist. With his soft touch shocking your brain into submission, you barely register his words as he continues, “I was thinking, perhaps, I might need to bite a bit more carefully to keep you from growing faint again. I’m afraid I had rather gotten used to biting that delectable neck in your past-life.”
You gulp and you’re certain that the sound is audible to you both. “Is that so? Would you… prefer a neck?”
“Don’t you worry your lovely little head, darling,” he says, bending his head over your wrist. “I shall manage.”
You’re about to protest, to insist that he’s allowed to bite your neck, even as your heart pounds brutally in your chest at the thought– but his fangs sink in before a word can escape your lips and you’re left huffing out a small sigh.
Astarion’s lips smile against your wrist, and, were it not for the kind consideration he’d just shown you, you may have smacked him on his beautiful silver head for it.
Much like the previous times he’s had a nibble, his seemingly involuntary hums are more the source of your lightheadedness than anything else. The deep rumble that sounds from his chest sends your heart into a frenzied rhythm that your blood just can’t appear to keep up with.
Calm down, you think, imagining images of still water, light breezes, soft cats. Calm down or you will fall back again. Nothing seems to be working to quiet your pounding heart and, as you look at the angle of his nose, the soft curve of his cheek, you can feel your breath catching, your vision blurring.
No, you repeat to yourself. He will starve himself if it means you don’t get injured, keep yourself together. You’re startled by how accurate the thought sounds to your own mind. You knew he cared about you, but had you ever really sat down and understood the depth of it? However, you don’t have time to think about the implications of his concern because your world is beginning to spin.
Breathe, you command of yourself. You take a deep breath. 
Another, you think, and you feel your eyes start to focus as fresh air enters your body. 
Two large breaths later and you’re feeling significantly better– your heart is still racing, but the room has stilled and your body feels your own again. Just in time too, as you feel Astarion take one last drink from your veins, remove his fangs, and breathe a sigh of bliss onto your skin. 
When he pulls back to look at you, the flush on his face, the pink on his ears is still somehow worth the miserable feeling of blood loss. “So darling,” he says, licking his blood-stained lips. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling fine,” you say, smiling at him with the best, least exhausted grin you can manage. Certainly better than you have after your previous feedings. “Though I do think it is your fault that I feel faint sometimes.”
“Really?” Astarion asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Well,” you start, not sure how to approach the issue with him, but needing to tell him all the same. “I think it’s the noises you make while you feed. My heart just, erm, panics a bit.”
Astarion looks at you with a blank expression. “Noises?”
Ah, so they are involuntary. “Yes, the mmm’s and the hmm’s and the–”
“Stop that.” Astarion raises a hand up to your face, placing it over your mouth. When you look toward him to see what could be the matter, you see that a blush covers his cheeks, that the tips of his ears have turned a deep red. “I– I thought I’d stopped doing that years ago.”
It’s as if time stills. You struggle with your confused, nervous thoughts as you register his embarrassment, the words he’s said.
Astarion is blushing, your brain thinks.
Of course, the rational part of you counters. He’s just fed, he’s going to have some blood in his system for a while.
But he’s blushing because of something I said, you supply.
Your mind goes blank at the thought.
You’re grateful that you can’t reply to Astarion, not with his hand over your mouth, because you’re not certain what is liable to come out of it at the moment. 
Luckily, Astarion continues to speak, not releasing your face, “Well, I apologize for the noises. I’ll try to control that. In the meanwhile, why don’t we get ready for bed? It’s been a long day.”
You nod into his hand, after which he removes it from your mouth. His face continues to have a touch of pink, and his eyes refuse to meet yours. You can hardly be bothered by it, because the only things running in circles in your mind are the feel of Astarion’s hand on your face, the sight of his perfectly blushed cheeks, and the fact that, somehow, despite everything, he still cares about your well-being.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. You end up having to take a quick bath to clear your mind, and you both get ready for bed separately. However, at the end of the day, you both wind up in the same, immense bed after all is said and done.
You thought that maybe something big would happen. Perhaps that he would recoil from you. Or worse, grab onto you. Maybe that the earth would open up and swallow you both. But nothing of the sort happens.
You both simply lay down, tuck yourselves in a variety of soft blankets, rest your heads on the best down pillows magic can conjure, and remain several feet apart on the massive bed.
Much like last night, Astarion puts out the lantern next to the bed and whispers to you, “Goodnight, darling.”
“Goodnight, Astarion.”
There’s simply no way that your reverie will take you tonight, of that you’re sure. You’re convinced of it, because all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, the muffled breath you take when you try to be quiet. But eventually, against all odds, your trance does overtake you.
That night as you enter your reverie, you blink your eyes open to a familiar inn.
Again, the establishment is dead, not a soul in sight in this remote village. And, as always, the innkeep reaches down into their front desk, pulling out another book.
It looks to be a book that they’ve already started– a bookmark is placed about halfway through its pages. The cover is mostly plain, a black leather with a large tower embossed in the center. In the smallest script you catch the title before they open the book, “The Midnight Tower and its Master.”
The innkeep flips open to their current page and begins to read… 
When you wake up from your reverie a few hours later, you sit up with a gasp, a hand clutching at your chest in surprise.
Next to you, Astarion stirs, looking at you with a drowsy concern. “Darling, are you alright?”
“I–I’m fine,” you say, taking several deep breaths. “I dreamt of the tower.”
34 notes · View notes
iamthemaestro · 3 months
Text
I realize I think a lot about my life in terms of “maybe when I’m a boy…” my brother in christ. maybe you are an EGG
7 notes · View notes
chaoticgouda · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
#nonbinary#(saved this bc the first tweet op posted felt mean and made me uncomfortable)#but I still wanted to vent about this because what is restraint and boundaries online amirite#so here we go again:#I feel uncomfortable being called my irl name everywhere except at work and I feel like that’s bc the worksona i crafted#is so irontight that I’m fine being a Lady there but it low-key rankles me anywhere else#idk if that’s a gender thing or just a case of apathy and extreme alienation from myself though#I’d rather die than ever talk to my co-workers about other pronouns or anything though bc the gossip would spread throughout work within-#the hour. and it’s not like people would be really awkward about it (I hope) because I think I’m generally liked by my coworkers. but I’d#hate to be pitied or misunderstood. and it’s not like i have dysphoria or anything so I don’t personally feel justified in calling myself#trans. I’m just alienated from womanhood. but that could also be because i don’t have an interest in most socially-expected ‘woman things’#and bc I’m not mentally well or het. and that inherently separates you from the expected Girl Experience.#this is really rambly and nonsensical okay I guess if I really thought about it I’d love to be called Krill by everyone because it has less#baggage and feels more like me. but i’m not necessarily upset at being called my RL name. I don’t have dysphoria I just have mild ick.#like I’d prefer being considered a They and not being expected to be any gender at all. but it doesn’t kill me inside y’know#it’s fine.#if you read through this weird personal ramble then thanks ig?
63 notes · View notes
Text
I’m far too indecisive for people to be asking me my pronouns. it’s fine if you wanna call me something but why do I gotta be complicit? why do I have to make a Decision tm?
3 notes · View notes
ziracona · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Me trying to figure out what tf Astolfo’s pronouns are
#I have seen characters in G/O use He - She - /and/ they. but Astolfo never uses any personally#the facts use ‘they’. BUT in one dialogue in English Astolfo calls themself ‘he’ BUT that’s an incorrect translation of the Japanese where#they use 3rd person and just use their own name. no pronoun. And I can’t remember Astolfo ever correcting anyone or using a pronoun for#themself in Apocrypha I mean also I don’t speak Japanese so totally they could & it just wasn’t in my subs. BuT circling back the#translation while not accurate is still official for US fgo.#I have no problem with they obviously the thing is just I’ve never heard Alstolfo use ‘they’ either—I’ve never heard Astolfo use /anything/#it could be it/its or xem/xir or no prounouns ar all. & I can’t figure out if it’s most accurate to use They since the stat sheet does#or He since there’s one use of Astolfo’s for it that is half-canon. OR if I should just write my sentences to completely avoid pronouns when#possible. like does it matter? would Astolfo care? probably not. but I still want to know!!!#I-I /think/ in Extella Astolfo uses ‘he’ some? but G/O uses They. so is He/They accurate or is one or the other a translation error?#I mean a Nonbinary King regardless I just genuinely want to know#although I have a sneaking suspicion if I asked Astolfo would be like ‘Haha that all works! Ooh! I’m gonna add five new ones!’#and I’d be like ‘do you care which is used most?’ and Astolfo would go ‘Haha! Nope!’ & run off to buy slushie#G/O also uses She a LOT. but the stat sheets & Astolfo never have to the best of my knowledge??? BUT Astolfo has called themself a maiden#before (among many other gendered terms for fun so obviously they don’t care). I just want to know because I am curious#Astolfo tell me your riddles please#Alstolfo are your pronouns Short/King? Or Bae/Material? or M/VP?#I love that little pink haired spirit#does this matter at all? no. not really. do I still want to know bc Astolfo facts bring joy? yes very much
8 notes · View notes
airbendertendou · 7 months
Text
you are in love! ♥︎
synopsis : various best friend!characters realizing they like you a lil more when they should  [including bonten!sanzu, draken, senju, izana, aiura, saiki, satan, leon kennedy, and tamaki suoh.]
no pronouns used / gender neutral ; [name] used in place of y/n ; reader makes filipino food in izanas, im not from the philippines so pls don’t expect it to b accurate ; friends w benefits situation in satans ; reader dresses as sophie in tamakis but w pants and a shirt instead of a dress
song inspo ; you are in love by taylor swift 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. 
——♥︎——
SANZU ♥︎
“big, scary bonten man,” you mumble to yourself. sanzu peaks at you over his shoulder as he cleans his gun, eyes narrowing at your tone. “never mean around me though, hm?”
he pauses, head tilting and pink hair following with it. you scoot further up the bed, laying against his pillows as he thinks. “i’m nice to mikey.”
“…that’s your boss.”
sanzu makes a show of rolling his eyes as he clicks his gun back together, satisfied with its new shine. “do you want me to be mean to you or somethin’?”
“why not?” you speak with a grin. the edge of the bed lifts as he stands, putting all his weapons away. sanzu pauses at your words, scrunching his nose in confusion. “definitely don’t look so mean ‘nd scary.”
huffing, he settles back on the bed, still sitting on the edge but a little closer this time. “i kill people, [name]. that’s pretty scary.”
you shrug, sitting up. your feet knock against his knees at the movement. “c’mon, haru,” you tilt your head back so that your neck is fully accessible, “do your worst.”
the room stills and you’re afraid you’ve pushed too far — afraid he might actually take you up on the offer. but something soft is pressed to the left side of your neck within the next second, lifting and latching onto different spots.
you gulp, feeling his responding grin against the middle of your throat.
the right side is given attention now, multiple kisses being scattered randomly. sanzu lifts his lips once more and places them on the base of your neck, his tongue and teeth making an appearance—
“ow, fucker!” you pull away from his touch with a scowl, your hand covering the new bite mark you’ve been gifted with. haru is grinning widely, teeth flashing in the light — you’re surprised you don’t see blood hanging on them. “didn’t have to bite me, haru.”
he shrugs, “wasn’t even my worst.”
you eye him, slowly dropping your hand from your sore and pulsating neck. “i feel sorry for your one night stands, then.”
sanzu hums, his right hand sliding closer to your hip and his body following until you’re face to face. it makes your cheeks heat ; makes you focus on the movement of his lips as he grins. “they won’t matter much anymore, anyways. have someone new i’m seeing.”
“oh yeah?”
“yeah,” his lips brush against your neck once more. sanzu tugs at your waist, bringing you closer to him as his voice softens into a whisper and settles against your ear. “if you’ll have me.”
DRAKEN ♥︎
a towel is handed to you, followed by a hoodie you know isn’t yours. draken’s cheeks flush, “in case you get cold.”
with an awkward wave, he leaves you alone. the shower you take is needed, warming you up and calming you down at the same time. no matter how long you’d known him, it was still the first time you’d be with draken all night.
the rainstorm appeared suddenly and disappeared as abruptly. it’d drenched you just as you and draken left the cafe you met at. his place was closer, he’d said, and he asked so quietly for you not to say anything. 
it was weird until you got to his place — a brothel.
“alright in there, cutie?” you’d just stepped out of the shower when the voice followed you through the walls. “ken asked me to check on you.”
they were sweet, the women that surrounded draken. they made sure you weren’t hungry ; didn’t need any refreshments or anything as they led you to draken’s room. “have a nice night!” they leave with a giggle.
draken eyes the smile you’re wearing as you tug his hoodie comfortably around your neck. “somethin’ happen?”
“they’re nice,” is all you say in response. his cheeks heat up once more as he turns away from you, body stiffening. “are you ready for bed?”
“oh—“ he clears his throat and shuffles where he stands. “you can take the bed. i’ll have the floor.”
you shake your head, pulling the blanket back and patting the bed. “i don’t mind sharing. right or left side?”
that’s how you end up face to face with draken, staring absently into the dark as your combined body heat warms the comforter. you can feel and hear him let out a sigh, “you okay? all comfy?”
“yeah,” your voice is embarrassingly breathy. he lets out another huff before an arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest. “oh— that’’s better, actually.”
draken lets out a laugh, “m’glad. goodnight, [name].” 
SENJU ♥︎
“on the count of three!” senju jumps out of the dressing room adjacent to yours. she pauses, wobbling where she stands before straightening up. her head tilts, “it’s... something, alright!”
you pause, “you hate it.”
“...a little.” senju struts off, grabbing two of everything that catches her eye. she looks over the cloth she’s picked out, nodding in approval. “here,” she stuffs the fabric into your arms, “try this instead.”
you take a bit to figure out what she’d even brought to you — figuring which was the top and which the bottom — struggling to squeeze yourself in. once situated and comfortable, you gaze into the mirror.
it’s cute, watch senju told you to wear. the color is nice and balances your skin out, brightening it and making it glow. the bottoms fit your legs nicely, shaping and enlongating them. you hum in satisfaction, peeking out of the dressing room to see if senju’s done.
“[name]! let me see your outfit!” senju spots you right away. she gestures for you to join her enthusiastically. you open the door fully, scooting out until you’re face to face with her.
you hold out your arms nonchalantly, “ta-da.”
her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly. snapping it closed, she gulps, looking away before her cheeks turned color. you tilt your head, “senju?”
“yeah,” her voice cracks. the outfit she’s wearing is the same as yours — a matching moment, she went with. senju giggles nervously, “yeah. you look... pretty.”
prettier than she’d ever tell you.
IZANA ♥︎
the smell of lumpia and fried chicken coats the room around you. ran had just rinsed the rice, moving to mix together the rice noodles and shrimp for the palabok. kakucho is to his left, slicing boiled eggs so they could go on top.
you let out a sigh, nodding your head at the impressive menu you’d whiped together. filipino food was a little out of your comfort zone, an unkown taste to you. however, today was an important day — a special one. the oven dings, indicating the cake you’d made was finished. 
fresh out of the oven, the simplistic chocolate cake looks and smells delicious. you slap your hands together, “jus’ needs to cool down and we’re ready to go!”
the front door opens suddenly, rindou’s voice calling out a warning as he enters. shion is right behind him, pink-faced and sheepish as izana steps in, hands crossed over his chest. he raises and eyebrow, “what’s this?” 
“uh—“ kakucho adjusts the apron he’s wearing. it matches the one you’re wearing — ran refused one. he looks around, “surprise?”
“rindou! you were supposed to keep him busy!”
the blond shrugs, “he got bored.”
you sigh, closing your eyes as the food you’ve made is thoroughly examined. izana meets your gaze and raises his eyebrow in question once again. “it was supposed to be a birthday surprise.”
“...it’s filipino food.”
“yeah,” you wring your hands nervously. “you haven’t had it in a while, so i thought i’d try making it.”
izana looks over the food again, stealing a bite here and there as he goes. his eyes close ; his chest expanding with the comfort the familiar dishes bring. when his eyes open, they’re brighter ; more tender than what you’re used to seeing. 
your left hand is raised, a kiss being placed on your knuckles as izana pulls you close. “thank you, [name]. this means a lot.”
you grin, “happy birthday, z.”
AIURA ♥︎
in the morning, right after she does her makeup and before her uniform is on, aiura looks to her crystal ball for guidance. just a way to know things will be okay ; the day won’t be weird.
through the crystalline sphere, she sees her hand clasped in someone else’s. giddy, aiura believes this means she’s found her chosen one. the one made for her ; the one who will love her endlessly.
“—has to be the one!” she’s ranting to an unlistening saiki, rambling about her peek into the future. kaidou slips from leaning against her desk at her words. aiura sighs happily, “i can’t wait to meet them.”
a faceless classmate interupts the moment. “some idiots are fighting outside.”
you go to look — aiura can’t even remember when you came into the room. you rub your eyes tiredly before they widen dramatically. “that’s our idiot! aren’s out there!”
people flood outside, pouring out to help their beaten and bruised classmate. aiura is frozen in her seat — how did she not see this? how did a fight just miraculously break out?
a touch breaks her out of her thoughts. you’re holding her hand — frowning and ranting as you lead her outside. aiura’s face heats — you’re her chosen one? her one and only happiness? 
she gulps as she looks up to your face. this changes things. 
SAIKI ♥︎
the day starts normally. kaidou tells saiki he’d spent the night fighting agianst the dark reunion — he was studying all night. kuboyasu fought the urge to threaten an older boy in the school — just barely. nendou had already asked to eat ramen — they’d just gotten to school. 
saiki let out a sigh, eyes staring at the board in front of him. aiura had bought a new perfume that was clouding his nose, his thoughts — everything. she leans her head to the right so that she could meet his gaze. “what do you think, saiki?”
she’s met with silence. the chair behind him creaks as you sit down, a small laugh being let out as you do. aiura pouts your way, “[name], saiki’s ignoring me!”
you tap saiki’s shoulder lightly, just a brush of a touch, before turning to the blond. “don’t take it personal, aiura. you can just ask me what you want.”
“an angel,” she beams at you. aiura turns to face you fully, scrunching her nose at saiki as she goes. “i got some new perfume and nail polish recently,” she flashes her fingers at you. “cute, right?” 
you lean in closer, chin barely brushing against saiki’s shoulder as you go. you let out a small oooh! at the sigh of her glitzed up nails. “super cute, actually!”
she squints, leaning in a little closer as she does. “you’re wearing a new eyeshadow, aren’t you?”
“i am!” you close your eyes completely, relaxing your face so she can see the color. “like it?”
“looks... familiar for some reason.”
saiki peers at you sneakily from over his shoulder, only looking at you from the corner of his eye. he whips his head around before anyone can see. it is familiar — it’s his exact eye color. it takes everything in saiki to not light up in flames at the thought.
SATAN ♥︎
you had been an acquaintance of satan for months now. he’d come to you when he felt upset ; when the only feeling he could name was rage. when the world was burning and erupting inside of him, boiling and spilling out of his seams. he often took his anger out on you — with your consent, of course. he’s bruise you, scratch you and leave his mark lingering in any way he could.
today, though… today was the opposite. there was an emptiness inside of him ; a devoid and barren system that left him feeling nothing.
satan came to you, straggling and stone-faced as he locked his fingers into yours. you’d gotten close during your times together ; he knew every sigh you made and every face you held. you did the same to him ; made him feel comfort and freedom in ways he couldn’t around his brothers. that’s why he usually came to you when any feeling hit — you didn’t feel suffocating the way the house of lamentation always did.
“you okay?” you’re on his lap somehow, thighs sandwiching his own as his fingers dig into your hips. you brush his hair out of his eyes, “satan?”
he lets out a hum. you jostle slightly, hips meeting his torso — satan let’s out a small groan and let’s his forehead fall to your shoulder. “need me to help you relax?”
it starts off slow, your kissing. the usual upkeep is messy ; tangled and rushed as your clothes are ripped away and your bodies pressed tightly. this time, satan is careful to turn your head the way he wants it to, his hands on your cheekbones and guiding your head left and right.
you’ve just unbuttoned his shirt when you feel it. tears, dripping down your own cheeks. you pause, pulling away and letting your hands lift from his shoulders and settle on his cheeks. you tilt your head, “satan?”
his fingertips welted into your back, molding themselves onto either side of your spine like a pair of faded wings. satan breathes in, his chest stuttering with the feeling. he sniffs, nose and eyebrows curving in confusion as he pulls further away from you. “what’s going on?”
“you’re crying.” you wipe underneath his eyes gently, frown on your kissed, puffy lips. “why are you crying? what’s wrong?”
“i… i’m not sure,” his lower lip trembles. satan falls deeper into your hold, his arms looping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “feeling too much.”
his fingers dip underneath your shirt, and pull it up until you’re bare and exposed. satan smiles tenderly and you grin back, your own hands crawling up his exposed chest. “sure you’re okay?”
“good with you,” it’s murmured against your neck. satan sniffs again before nipping at your throat, opened mouth kisses trailing down to your sternum. “always good with you.”
LEON S. KENNEDY ♥︎
the bar you’ve found yourself at is starting to get boring. you leave after waving eagerly to your friends, shuffling on the sidewalk as you awkwardly pull your phone from its safe spot. a text from leon catches your eye — a mere thumbs up to the long paragraphs you’d sent his way. you scowl only to realize you’re closer to his apartment than you thought.
he wasn’t asleep — he never slept well — but he wasn’t fully awake either. hearing a tap on his door was strange, but leon let it be, assuming his neighbors had hit the wall on their way in.
until a long, drawn out whine of his name flew through the room.
swaying in his doorway was you ; eyes half-lided and your shirt falling down your shoulder. you grin his way, “hi, lee!”
“[name]. why’re you here?” he sounds gruff ; annoyed with the way you seem to always show up at his door. you know he isn’t, though, used to the tone his voice holds. leon holds his door open as you stagger inside, “been drinkin’ again?”
“mm,” you flop onto his couch, “birthday party. got bored. remembered you jus’ came home.”
leon quietly places your shoes by the door and grabs a blanket while you yawn. “missed me then?”
you let out another hum, pulling the blanket he’d given you further up your shoulders. slowly, your eyes peel open and you smile at him softly. “always miss you when you’re gone, lee. like when you’re home.”
home wasn’t something leon remembers. he moved around a lot now, going from city to city for his government affiliated job. home meant the presence of care ; of warmth. leon’s bare, empty apartment held nothing like that. crystal eyes fell to you when you let out a small hiccup, sagging to the right until your head fell on his shoulder.
“m’home for now, [name].”
TAMAKI ♥︎
haruhi adjusts the hat you’re wearing, making sure the blue blouse you’re wearing is tucked in properly. you shuffle in your spot nervously, fingers picking at your cuticles as she nods to herself. her eyes meet yours, “you’ll do fine, [name].”
“says you,” you frown. you stretch the neck of your blouse and clear your throat. “you guys are used to this stuff.”
haruhi swats your hands away, grabbing them in her own. “you will do fine. c’mon, it’s time to start.”
“welcome!”
tamaki doesn’t have time to speak to you ; doesn’t have time to admire the outfit you’re wearing before they’re greeting guests. his eyes stray to you again and again, his attention on you and not the guests who surround him. you go to every table, dropping off sweet treats and teacups as you go.
“—lly cute.” a girl is saying to him. tamaki blinks back into reality as his shoulder is touched. “right, tamaki?”
“could you repeat that, princess?”
her cheeks flare a bright pink as she straightens up in her seat. “i said you and [name] match. howl and sophie, right? it’s really cute.”
tamaki’s eyes find you again as you drop slices of cake off at the twins’ table. they giggle with you, tugging on your hat playfully before you leave. “we do match, don’t we?”
orchid eyes stay focused on you for the rest of the day. even after the club’s activities are over, and you’re helping clean up — he still stares. you finally look back, placing your hat on a table as you go. “yes, tamaki? you’ve been staring.”
“we’re sophie and howl,” his voice is light, faraway as he speaks. “did you notice?”
“only after i saw you.” you smile gently, watching kyoya tally up any and every cost. “a nice surprise for us both, i suppose.”
tamaki stares at your reflection in the window in front of him, eyeing the way you portray your chosen characters. his cheeks barely heat, but he still feels like it’s obvious to everyone. haruhi meets his flustered gaze and grins.
——♥︎—— i know nothing abt cooking n even less abt filipino food so i hope izanas was okay </3 hope they were all okay tbh
airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.
1K notes · View notes
scented-morker · 9 months
Text
Enhypen when you’re their Bite Me dance partner
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Idol!enha x background dancer reader (they’re female, but I didn’t use any pronouns so can be read as gn) 945 words. ⚠️PSA: just bc idols interact with the other gender doesn’t mean it’s romantic and I am in no way trying to imply that!! This is fanfiction and shouldn’t be taken too seriously!! ⚠️
Tumblr media
Heeseung
No because when you first meet him he seems so calm and polite and you’re like “wow this is gonna work out so well”
Because even tho he’s super hot (hello?) He’s not trying to use it on you
But we’re all very familiar with the switch up when he starts performing
suddenly he’s smirking and holding eye contact and just 😳
You feel like you might need to go take a lap and cool off
HAVE YOU SEEN THAT PART IN THE SECOND VERSE WHERE LIKE HE GRABS HIS DANCERS HANDS DOWN HIS CHEST??? (1:39 in the 230602 mubank performance 🫣)
He chills out eventually but the first time he literally made you run your hands down his chest 🫠🫠🫠
“You know you can touch me right?”
He notices your hesitant movements and literally grabs your hands to put them on his neck 🥵
“See that wasn’t so hard was it?” bark bark bark bark bark
Jay
Literally SO respectful
When you guys meet for the first time he goes out of his way to get to know you because he doesn’t want it to be awkward when you start dancing
He keeps it up later too, he always asks “is this okay?” before putting his hands on your back or anything (even when you’ve run the song fifty times)
Every time you come back on stage he gives you a little wink 🫠
And everytime you do the like dip/lean back thing he makes silly faces at you when you come back up 😭
So all the fancams are trying to figure out why you’re laughing in the middle of the dance 😔
Jake
Okay because he’s a flirt and he knows that he should keep it professional with you but you’re just so pretty 🥹 he can’t help it
You notice how he always seems to be touching you a little longer than everyone else
Like Jake the choreographer stopped everyone five minutes ago why are you still holding on 🤨
Always acts like he’s gonna drop you when you lean back in that one part (I hope you know what I’m talking about)
Like he’ll have his hands on your waist and then let go just to watch you drop and then catch you again
(He thinks your angry face is cute when the song ends and you smack him for it)
Bites his lip EVERYTIME on the part where you touch his chin 🫣
Sunghoon
He’s so awkward I’m sorry 😭😭
Like you’re ready to start dancing and make your choreographer proud but he’s really making it hard
You can tell he doesn’t love the idea of touching you (rude 😐) so you try to go a little easier on him
You just lay your hands on him instead of grabbing or anything, and you don’t lean as far back bc he’s not actually holding your waist he’s just putting his hand in front of it 😭
But then the choreographer yells at him because he’s gonna end up dropping you so he has to actually touch you
“Uh is this okay? Where- where should I?”
You try not to laugh at his bashfulness, grabbing his hand and putting it on your waist
“You have to support my back right here okay? Don’t let me fall.”
BUT HES THE ONE WHO FELL (for you) 🤭🤪🤩
Sunoo
Literally made you feel instantly comfortable, he has the least threatening aura ever
He was all “hi! I’m sunoo!! I can’t wait to dance with you 🥰😁”
And you were like ☺️
At one point when you guys had marked it a few times, not actually doing the partner stuff you looked at him and went “are you sure you can hold me up?”
It’s not like he had to hold all of your body weight but like dang you needed some support ya know, and he just moved so gently that you were a little suspicious
This offended him immensely of course, and he picked you up right then and there
Just threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes
“Yeah, I’ll be okay”
okayyyyyyyyyy 🥵
Jungwon
Slow burn x100 bc he’s a responsible and professional leader 👏
He asked Niki about how to better dance with a partner because he didn’t have any experience with it and wants to make sure he does a good job 🥹 (my baby)
He is DETERMINED to make this choreography perfect, and is not afraid to correct you
“Make sure you actually touch my chest when you do that, it doesn’t look as good when you just pretend.”
Okay Jungwon 🤭 I’m sure that’s why 🤭
When he starts really performing with facials and everything you’re literally losing it 😭
Like face burning bright red, what happened to the cute guy you were dancing with for the last month why is he staring into your soul mid dance
One time he touched your knee while you did the like drag up by their chin move and you literally had to take a walk
Riki
He knows what he’s doing okay?
Like I said previously, he’s the only one with experience in partner dancing
So you were worried at first that he’d be shy because you knew he was the youngest one
But then the first time you ran the song together he grabbed your waist and dropped you so low your ponytail wiped the floor 😭😭
He makes SO MUCH eye contact you literally are on the verge of combusting
When the boys point it out he says it’s because he has to watch you to make sure you don’t need anything because that’s what good observant partners do (boys a liarrr)
Since you’re one of the ones that has to start on the ground he always put his jacket on the ground during practice so you wouldn’t hurt your back/shoulders 😭😭
3K notes · View notes
uplatterme · 1 year
Text
playing dangerous.
—this has been rotting in my google docs for a while but i finally finished it, thank god. i also got too into this omg, very self indulgent.
—sub!bottom!heizou/dom!top!reader, amab!reader (no gendered terms or pronouns) | yandere!reader/obsessive!reader, handcuffs on reader, blowjob (chara!receiving), dumbification, degradation, breeding, overstimulation, belly bulge
Tumblr media
The incidents happened a month ago. A rise of crimes within Inazuma right after the Vision Hunt Decree was deemed no more. Of course, it would make sense for there to be riots as lots of lives were lost and ruined. And while that should be the most logical answer, the Detective certainly doesn’t think the same way…
There was something strange about these cases, something that he just can’t put his finger on. 
His wall is plastered with different clues and yet none of them seemed to connect, except for the fact that they were always done on a Sunday. 
That would usually be his day off but because of these incidents, he has been staying far longer in his office than he should be. All he does is pace around his room, annoyed that this was happening.
The incidents were too far from each other. Arson, Robbery, Trespassing, Blackmailing…
He reads the letter again from the latest case. It is nothing to note off, just a few words of threat. 
Perhaps he should get the handwriting examined, see if it matches with anyone. Unfortunately, that would take too long. Who knows what would have happened by then?
He drops the letter, ready to move on to another piece of evidence when he feels something strange.
Heizou stares at his fingers. “Wax?”
A part of the letter is covered in waxy material. He smells to check, to see if it is wax.
The letter surprisingly smells of cherry.
“What?”
Why would a letter threatening someone that they’ll kill them if they say anything smells of cherry?
He eyes it in confusion.
The detective leaves his room, wanting a second opinion from someone. Someone who can answer this for him, preferably.
He grabs the first person he sees, urging them to come with him. They immediately follow, already used to the detective’s usual quirkiness. He’s the one who earns the station their meal tickets, so they don’t really find themselves complaining.
They are in awe at the state of his room. “Detective? Is something wrong?”
He holds the letter up. “Can you smell this?”
The worker stares at it before hesitantly taking the object. “It’s sweet.” 
Heizou hums. 
“Right. Do you have any idea what that may be? It seems to be a wax of some sort, from a candle maybe?” He deduces.
“Pardon me, sir. But I don’t think it’s from a candle.”
“Oh, is that so?” He lets them continue.
They nod. “It’s uh, an ointment. A new one. I think this brand is really popular.”
An ointment? Does that mean that the perpetrator got injured from one of their crimes?
“What’s the ointment for?”
“It’s a…beautification product. The ointment prevents dry lips, keeps them plump.”
“Huh.” Heizou says, stunned.
He did not expect that at all.
“Is that all detective? Shall I go now?”
“Yes, you may leave.”
That…just brings more questions unanswered. Was this whole thing planned? Did they plan for him to notice this clue or was this just an accident? If it wasn’t, then why? What’s the purpose of the letter being tainted with the ointment? 
This was turning out more annoying than it should be.
Another Sunday, another crime.
Heizou hasn’t left his office despite it being his day off, knowing that he’ll be called once again if something happens.
He sits with his feet both up on the table, waiting.
Once the door slides open, he immediately stands up, wondering what he’ll face today. Will it be a repeat of the previous crimes? New ones? Or perhaps, they’d finally gone out of their way to take someone else’s life.
“Detective. Is something wrong?” 
“No? I’m quite fine.” Heizou responds, confused by the accusation.
“You were smiling, so…”
The detective bites his cheek. He shouldn’t be enjoying this, and yet…
It’s been a while since he’s been faced with such a challenge. He can’t wait to unravel this piece by piece. 
“Poison? That’s a new one.” Heizou checks the scene, seeing the mess that unfolded. There was dried blood on the floor, something that the victim coughed up.
Close.
They were just tipping over the line of possibly killing someone. If help wasn’t called, he probably would have died. It’s lucky that the victim is only suffering from a bruised throat.
He’d want to ask them questions but since that victim is in a comatose, he can’t exactly do that.
“Where’s that person who called for help?” Heizou asks.
He’s brought to the residence next door. He reads the name outside and finds that he has never once crossed that name in his investigations. That kind of thing is rare. Almost everyone has some kind of dirt relating to them. So it’s either that this person is as innocent as they come, or…
Once he knocks on the door, the person on the other side is quick to respond.
“Yes?” You answer.
“I’m here to ask a few questions? You are aware of what happened, yes? Since you’re the one who called for us here.” Heizou states.
He waits for an answer from you, only to receive none.
“Are you alright?” He asks.
“Is there a need for this? I assure you I haven’t done anything.” You say.
“Just making sure, we all do this with the people involved in these incidents.”  He explains.
“If that’s the case…you may take your time.” You tell him, smiling at the detective and letting him inside your residence.
Heizou searches your place and he finds…nothing. Everything is clean. Not a trace of anything suspicious.
What’s strange instead, is your behavior.
He notices how you watch every single move he makes, eyeing him up and down. Perhaps you were merely curious. Otherwise, he isn’t sure why you’d do such a thing.
“I’m not your suspect, am I?” You ask.
Truthfully, you were far from it. You saved the victim’s life unintentionally.
“What is it that you work again?” Heizou knows but he asks anyway, seeing if you’ll slip up.
“I’m a writer. I write mostly romance novels, I assume you aren’t familiar with my name? After all, I’m sure the great Shikanoin Heizou has experience with romance in real life that he doesn’t need to turn to fiction, no?” He irks his tongue, knowing that you were only complimenting him. However, that with the way you look at him seductively suggests another thing.
That you were flirting.
He takes the bait and bites back, smiling as he replies. “I haven’t heard. Would you mind giving an example of the things you write?”
You chuckle softly. “A sample, you say? Oh, you know. Just your usual flirtatious lines.”
“Like what?”
“I’m afraid they’re a bit too…provocative. I shouldn’t say such things when you’re working.” You admit, though he’s sure you’re only saying that to be polite.
“I can take it.” Heizou says.
“Can you, pretty boy? Are you sure I’m not too much to handle? Ah, why don’t you use those tight handcuffs of yours? I might be unable to keep my hands off you if you keep talking like that.”
The detective stills. He stares deep into your eyes, not expecting that. He stumbles a bit with his words, unsure of what to say. Heizou keeps his trembling fingers in his pockets, not wanting to seem as if he’s that easy to fluster, though that doesn’t shy away from the slight reddening of his cheeks.
“That’s…a good one.” He simply states, keeping his eyes on your soft lips.
“Is it, Mr. Shikanoin?” 
He’s aware that you’re teasing him, he knows that it’s all for fun. Yet, that doesn’t stop the fastened rate of his heart.
Next thing he knows, his own hands are moving and he’s clasping the handcuffs around your wrists.
He drowns in the approval your eyes give him, letting him know that he’s doing such a good job.
“Oh? Have I done something wrong, Detective? Or is this also protocol?”
He nods.
“You’re under arrest…for stealing my heart.” 
You laugh at his statement. “You’re so cheesy. Is this how you usually act with your suspects?”
“I…Hold on.”
He lets you go, continuing to search your house. There has to be something in here, it’s too suspicious that there’s nothing. He can’t have himself distracted by you toying with him like this.
Then, he spots something inside the bedroom. He didn’t notice it at first, thinking it was a picture frame because of the way that the bedside table was covering its bottom half but now that he realizes it, he’s sure that it’s a door.
“May I move this table?” He asks.
Heizou sees you grin. A grin that sends shivers down his spine. Was he onto something after all?
“Sure, the key’s inside the drawer.”
He opens the drawer and takes the key. He then shakily opens the door right after he removes the obstacle that is your bedside table.
Heizou doesn’t like how eerily silent you get, how you’ve bruised your bottom lip from biting too hard.
He almost hesitates to open the door, intimidated by what he’ll see inside. His fingers hold the key tightly, he breathes deeply and looks back at you.
You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly amused. “Scared?”
“Yes.” He admits.
“You shouldn’t. I’m the helpless one in handcuffs, not you.” You reassure him.
While he knows you’re right, there’s still an uneasiness in his chest.
“I-I suppose.”
Heizou turns the key, expecting a crime scene. He had his choices in his head. Maybe you kidnapped someone and put them in there. Or, a dead body rotting inside that you had no way to get rid of.
However, what he sees is something unexpected.
That’s because Shikanoin Heizou sees himself.
Newspapers about him solving different crimes, arranged from when he just started to his most recent one. Pictures of him were taken discreetly, some of them even being done while he was sleeping in his office. Paintings of him, strands of his hair, and clothes that he thought went missing. It was a collection. Sort of a shrine even, but the center of it all is him.
He turns back as he hears you snickering and he has never been this glad to put someone in handcuffs in advance.
“W-What is this?” He questions.
You stare at him, confused. A confused look on your face.
“My love for you.”
“Love.” He restates.
You smile widely. Too wide that he sees your gums. Heizou’s fight and flight senses were tingling but were left with one option when you close the door with your back.
He reassures himself that it’s fine. He has a vision, you’re in handcuffs. If things were to go out of hand, he’ll end up being the victor.
“I really wanted to kill that guy.” You tell him.
“That guy?”
You nod, tightening your fist. “He was insulting you. I wanted to rip his throat out, show him what he deserves for saying such things.”
Heizou continues for you. “But you didn’t.”
It’s stupid. You know he’s a detective and yet you’re telling him all of this, as if you’re certain that you’ll come out of this without any repercussions.
“I didn’t! I knew you’d hate me if I did.”
It slowly starts to click in his head. You wanted to see him in public during his day off, that’s why you always orchestrated it at the start of every week. The letter with the beautification product, you were probably kissing it while you wrote it, knowing it’ll land in his hands. 
As he thinks, the detective gets occupied and doesn’t notice that he’s centimeters away from you.
“I like that.” You say.
“Huh?”
“You’re smiling.” You point out.
Heizou uncomfortably relishes that fact. This is the second time that he’s been told that.
He hates the fact that this whole mystery has brought him such great entertainment. He’s been so focused on dealing with political problems within Inazuma that a mystery just like this brings him that thrill that he’s longing for.
This is so much better than that.
He shouldn’t enjoy it, and yet here he is.
The little detective is caught off guard as your lips smash on his. He tastes the blood from your bruised lips, how you press your mouth, your tongue sliding inside. He’s dizzy, unable to figure out whether he’s starting to choke because of how you tickle the back of his throat with your tongue or due to the lack of air.
He wants to escape, to take a breather. However, despite your hands being tied down, that doesn’t prevent you from putting pressure on his crotch to keep him still. Pleas escape from his mouth as you continue pressing down.
Heizou’s not fighting back and it stresses him. Instead, he takes your tongue so obediently as if he’s not the one who has the power to keep you locked up.
He pants as you separate from him, head buckling down and trying to focus on standing up. The fact that everything he sees is his face doesn’t help.
“Oh, I love you. I want to keep you all for myself.” Heizou sees the lovesick eyes that focus on him.
It amazes him how you’re able to handle him so easily.
You let your mouth do all the talking. Your tongue licks every sensitive part of his body, trailing saliva all over him. 
“Haaa—Fuck~” He feels his knees weaken.
“Make more of those sounds, Heizou. Let me hear you more. More, more, more…” 
Your insanity is nothing to laugh at, and yet he follows exactly what you say.
He pulls at your hair, tugging at your scalp as feels the same tongue on his shaft. He cannot stand up for long, whimpering with each and slow agonizing lick. He’s aware that you want to hear him beg, to scream out how much he needs you to cum.
He bears being on the edge…until he starts to get desperate.
“Please…!”
“Please, what?”
He’s too drunk on the feeling of being edged that he can barely answer, only a stuttering mess as his cock rests in your mouth. 
“M-More…N-Need to cum!”
His back meets the wall as he tries to stay on balance, holding onto your head. He keeps mewling, forgetting the reason why he’s here in the first place.
“That’s right, baby. I won’t let your dick forget, make you unable to cum without me.”
He tilts his head back as he cums, sweet noises flooding your ears. His thighs shake and he’s this close to hitting the floor hard if not for your assistance. He lays meekly on the floor, white drenching his legs.
“Sweet detective, so fucked dumb. Here I thought you were a genius.”
“H-Hard again—Want to cum…” Heizou replies, showing off his ass while starting to get on all fours.
“You’re fucking your stalker. Such a pervert, aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’d let anyone get with you?” 
Heizou whines as you say that. That’s not true at all, you just don’t understand. He wishes he could explain, but with the way he is right now, he doubts if that’ll be possible.
The noise that leaves Heizou’s mouth as you stretch his hole out and penetrate him is embarrassing. He sounds like an animal in heat like this is what he’s made for, to mate with your dick inside of him.
He quivers as he feels your hand on his back, pushing him down but in doing so, keeping his ass up as he pushes on his own deeper into you.
He breathes in between moans, your cock screwing into his walls while his cum spills easily on the floor.
“S-So good—C-Can’t think!”
“That’s right, squeeze your walls onto my cock. Remember my shape. You’ll be taking no one else’s but mine, my love.”
He thinks that you’re so vulgar with your words, your tone encourages Heizou into another orgasm.
He cries and shivers while he gets hit with it, his walls clenching tight.
Heizou’s body is so sensitive at this point, his body being as limp as it can be.
He flinches as you empty into him, your warmth dripping to his thighs since his tiny hole can’t take all of it.
He watches it in shame, wanting all of it, wanting every single drip to be contained inside of him. The look he gives is so seductive, it would put kitsunes to shame.
You thought of ending it but with that face he made, you reconsider this decision and flip him, having his face in front of you this time.
The detective doesn’t know what he’s just gotten himself into.
Heizou sees his own cum pool onto the ground, the tears blur his eyes, he can’t stop crying at how you pound so roughly into him.
He’s lost track of the time of how long he’s stayed in this god-forsaken room. The logical part of his brain should tell you to stop, if this keeps going on, he’ll for sure be unable to even walk himself to the bathroom. Unfortunately, his mouth says the complete opposite, blabbering and even encouraging you to keep going.
“Hmpf—! Cock—Too good!”
His nails grip the tatami as he cums again. He doesn’t know how he’s still able to go on when his clothes are soaked to the brim.
He hears you laugh again. “How about a change in profession? I heard the brothel’s hiring, detective.”
He understands you’re teasing. You would absolutely not let that happen, you would kill whoever lays their hands on Heizou.
For such a person with a small stature, he has quite the stamina and skill. He sheathes you in so easily, though of course, with the necessary moaning and gasping of your name. Not only that, he perfectly warms your cock like he’s been doing this for years.
“Shit. With how much cum you’re taking, I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn up pregnant.” You say, spreading his ass to see his beautiful hole leaking cum.
“Please…” He cries out.
“Hm?”
“Please do…”
It doesn’t take much to rile you up. It’s also very obvious that anything Heizou says, you will follow.
You slam hard into Heizou, each thrust has it that the detective’s insides are being flipped, his guts being adjusted just so he could take more and more of you.
He can see your cock’s shape in his belly, his thin figure doing nothing to hide it. It’s starting to round up due to his belly that’s filled with your cum. You keep fucking him hard, until your load spills inside his walls.
When Heizou wakes up, he realizes that he can’t move an inch. He’s clean, his clothes are changed and he smells good. 
He’s in your bedroom. He concludes this because he sees a glimpse of your strange room filled with things of his. With the amount of time he’s spent in there, he gets light-headed even from just thinking about it.
The doorknob turns and he sees you come in, a bowl of warm noodles in your hands.
He blinks.
You’re not wearing the handcuffs. 
He wonders how you got out and where you put them instead.
He looks down.
Heizou sighs.
2K notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 5 months
Text
Hi! I'd copy-and-pasted this request into my doc to write it, but now I can't find it in my inbox! I don't think it was anonymous, so if this is your request and it somehow got deleted, I'm very sorry! Thank you for requesting, apologies for the wait, and hope you like it <3
hi love!!! Congratulations on 1,000 followers!!! I absolutely adore your writing and if your requests are open I’d love it if you could right something about poly marauders with a reader who’s non-binary or gender fluid. Maybe they just got together and the reader hasn’t came out to them yet or something. Idk you get all the writing freedom, of course if you don’t want to write it’s totally fine!!! Thanks anyway 🫶💗🫶💗 xoxo
cw: marauders unknowingly misrepresent reader's pronouns+gender
poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 1.1k words
“Sirius, no.” Remus rubs at his temples. “I will not mar you with a tattoo gun you bought from some bloke on the street.” 
“Oh, don’t be such a wuss,” Sirius complains, sitting spread out on his bed. “It'll be fun, you can all do it!”
“I’m on board,” James says from his own bed. He’s levitating his shoes about the room idly. “Hey Pads, can we draw anything we want?” 
Sirius ponders this for a moment. “If you do a dick, it has to be small, and I’m putting an arrow with your name next to it.” 
James’ smile fades, and he lets the shoes drop. “You’re no fun.” 
“I don’t know,” you say to Remus, looking up at him from your chosen spot on the floor of their dorm. “It’s his body, I say let him cover it in shitty tattoos if that’s what he wants.” 
“Yes!” Sirius hops down from his bed to throw an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That’s what I’m talking about, that’s my girl!” 
You’d begun to glow at his over-the-top praise, but you dim at the last bit. Sirius must feel it; he looks over at you quizzically as Remus says for the fifth time, “That’s fine, but I won’t have anything to do with it.” 
“Well, it’ll…” Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch you. You try to bury your discontent where he can’t see it, but once he catches a whiff of melancholy he becomes a dog with a bone. The levity slowly leeches from his voice. “It’ll be more fun if you all do it…Sorry, sweetheart, is everything alright?” 
You don’t want the attention, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “I didn’t mean to distract you,” you say softly, shoulders hunching forward. “Keep going.” 
“No, that’s alright.” His slender fingers squeeze at your shoulder like he can tell you need the comfort. “It’s not actually important. What’s on your mind?” 
You want to tell him. You want to tell all of them, you have for weeks, but is there ever a right time? When the boys had first asked you out, it felt too abrupt to say anything, like you were making a big deal out of nothing because they didn’t even know you all that well. But now you’ve turned serious faster than you could’ve seen coming, and they feel like they do know you that well. And the longer you go without telling them, the more like you feel like you’re keeping some dirty secret. 
You should have just corrected them the first time they’d gotten your pronouns wrong. Each time feels like someone’s chipping away at your heart with a toothpick, the pain lessened by your surety in their good intentions but still very much there. It’s almost worse, now, to be on the precipice of falling in love with people who you don’t feel really know you, and it’s all your own fault.
This isn’t how you’d imagined the conversation coming about, but it might be the best chance you get for a while. 
“I, uh.” You clear your throat, unsure if you should move out from under Sirius’ arm for this conversation but really not wanting to. “I don’t…listen, it’s not your fault, but I don’t really like it when you call me your girl.” 
Sirius lets his arm drop to look at you properly, hurt flashing across his features. You take his hand, selfish thing that you are. “I mean it, it’s really not your fault.” It’s more plea than promise. “It’s just that I don’t—I don’t really see myself as a girl. I’m sorry.” 
You watch confusion take hold in Sirius’ expression before letting your eyes flit to the other boys. James looks tentatively like he’s beginning to understand, and Remus’ face is carefully controlled. He leans his elbows on his knees, looking down at you. 
“What do you mean by that, honey?” 
You know the endearment is meant to soften the question, but you get all tense around the middle anyway. 
“Just that…” You swallow, and James offers you a small smile of encouragement. “I don’t really see myself as any gender. It’s…it’s called nonbinary, I don’t know if you might’ve heard of it before? I’m really sorry I didn’t say something sooner.” 
“Hey, that’s alright.” James kicks a foot out from his bed, nudging your leg gently. “I’m really glad you told us, angel. Thank you.” 
You try to return his smile, chewing your lip. 
“Merlin, I thought you meant you didn’t want to be our girl,” Sirius sighs, bumping your shoulder with his. “That would have been unacceptable. You can be our something-else, though, if you like.” 
This is going well, you tell yourself. They’re being as kind as you’d always expected. Still, you don’t feel like they fully understand what you’re so clumsily trying to tell them.
“I get it if this changes things for you,” you say, and when you lean away from Sirius’ touch, he doesn’t chase you. “I know this is…you signed on for a girlfriend, not this.” 
The gentle smile drops from James’ face. His eyebrows twitch together uncertainly. “We…what? No, we didn’t…we didn’t ‘sign on’ for anything like that. We signed on for you.” 
“Darling,” Remus says, in that careful, measured voice that you can’t decide if you should be nervous about, “I don’t know a lot about this, so correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point that you’re still you? You’re just telling us how you’d like to be treated and understood, right?”
You take a second to run over his words in your head before nodding. 
Everything about Remus has gone soft, from his eyes to the gentle uptilt of his mouth. “Then James is right. Nothing has changed. I mean, we can make any changes to our relationship that make you more comfortable, but nothing about how much we care for you is any different.” 
“And look around you, sweetheart.” Laughter livens Sirius’ tone. “It’s not like any of us are only dating girls.” 
A smile tugs at your lips. “That’s a good point,” you mumble, and he laughs, arm reclaiming its spot around your shoulders. 
“Yeah, I actually do make those sometimes,” he teases. “Listen, gorgeous, I don’t think anyone here has a problem with you being whoever you are. Just tell us what you like to be called, and we will. And if there’s anything we do that you don’t like,” he adds, giving your shoulder a little squeeze, “you can tell us those things too.” 
James nods, emphatic. “Exactly. We want to support you, angel. Thanks for telling us, but just keep talking to us when you can, okay?” 
You have to bite down on your lip to contain the full scope of your smile. “Okay,” you promise him, overflowing with a gratitude that feels a lot like love. “Thanks. You guys are too sweet to me.” 
Remus makes a pfft sound. “Dove, I cannot believe that is your standard for sweetness. You’ve set the bar far too low.” 
429 notes · View notes
malleusfucker · 1 year
Text
private study session
Tumblr media
i have a shit ton of uni work but is writing smut of this man more important i think so
i live and breathe for asshole malleus y’all don’t even understand that man is a smug bastard
synopsis: your grades have been plummeting. bad. so much so that if you don’t improve, you might have to end up retaking the yearーwhich you definitely don’t want. no matter how hard you study and revise by yourself, nothing seems to stick. that was until you built up the courage to ask your close friend, malleus, if he could tutor you.
warnings: smut/nsfw, degrading, choking, lowkey hate sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mating press, reader is afab but no gender or pronouns are explicitly specified
word count: 2.8k
“oh-ho? and what makes you believe that my time will not be wasted?"
“it won’t, i swear! …please, malleus, just this once. i might have to retake the year if i don’t improve.” you shifted your feet nervously, continuing your embarrassing attempt at trying to convince the dragon fae to lend you just a slither of his intelligence. you weren’t one to beg, but at this pointーyou had to. of course, being the only non-magic student to have miraculously enrolled into NRC, it was a given your grades would be subparーbut not to this extent.
"and we certainly don't want that, do we?"
malleus's tone was condescending, apparently relishing the sight of you pleading for his help in front of him. his lips curved into a grin, and he cocked his head to one side. “i mean… that would be unfortunate if you needed to repeat the year. i do enjoy the lessons i have with you, child of man.”
your eyes widened as if he were finally giving in to your wish, like a puppy seeing a treat for the first time. “then? then…!? will you help me, malleus?”
malleus seemed thoughtfully contemplative for a few seconds. you were sure you saw a glimpse of something in his eyes for a single second. something menacing.
“fine. i’ll accept your request, child of man. you’re quite the lucky one, you know? not everyone can say that they’ve had me as their personal tutor.”
personal tutor, huh? it didn’t sound bad when he put it like that.
it was 6 p.m. malleus agreed to assist you back at your own dormーwhich surprised you slightly, but you didn’t mind. if anything, it only meant that evening was about to be spent without any disturbances.
it became clear that malleus was going to spend hours tutoring you like he stated he would. you sat pitifully looking at the pages in front of you as he poured information into your ears that amounted to little more than background noise. he was in the seat next to you. his body, though, was stiff. with one leg over the other and his arms crossed, it felt like being lectured about how dumb you are. 
maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
but it was probably too late to back out of it now.
snap
“are you ignoring me, child of man?”
as you heard his fingers snap at you, you quickly brought your eyes back into focus to see a face brimming with frustration and irritation.
“were you even paying attention to a single word i said?”
malleus was furious. with a tone laced with something much more than frustration, you knew you messed up big. the words that came out of his mouth only made the hairs on your arms prick up, feeling your mouth get dry as he leaned in close to your face, seeing the rage in his expression ever more clearly.
he was close. too close. you were so uneasy that you were certain he would smite you on the spot if you said something stupid.
“yes..! i swear i was malleus!”
you felt his stare burn right through you, feeling as though he’d bite off your head any second. all that you could hope was that if you said “yes” enough, maybe he’d let you off easier.
that wasn’t the case.
“am i boring you? is a human’s time for daydreaming more important than mine?”
you started to shake in your seat, your heart in your throat.
“you have a lot of nerve, child of man. taking my generosity for granted, really, you are bold.”
he drew even nearer until his face was almost brushing yours. all you could do was tremble and pray that he wouldn't actually murder you at this very moment. suddenly feeling paralysed, you couldn't even gather the energy to defend yourself.
he pressed a finger on your foreheadーhardーwatching you practically unravel in front of him.
“what will it take, child of manーfor you to listen? how can we make the time left today not utterly pointless?”
he remained far too close to your face for your liking. whilst your body was about to give way any second, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up for some strange reason. you’ve never seen malleus so close up before, it was almost an honour. you wanted to shake these stupid, borderline dangerous thoughts away, but you almost felt in awe at the anger he was expressing to youーas bad as that was.
“hoh? got nothing to say? heh, it’s almost as if you’re trying to anger me. you’re certainly the first to do such a thing, child of man.”
he moved his finger from off your forehead to your jaw, resting it under your chin as he slowly tilted your head up to look at him. you gave him a glazed-over look. it was as if every single thought in your head suddenly turned off, rendering you speechless and still. feeling his finger touch underneath your chin, you couldn’t help but sweat, your face becoming more flushed by the second.
“hmm, your face is heating up. am i embarrassing you, child of man?”
malleus was. 
but even with all that embarrassment that was thoroughly washing through your entire body, you could sense a faint sensation of excitement starting to bubble. were you the masochistic type? did you actually enjoy getting humiliated by him? perhaps not, but seeing him get so riled up over youーhis face inches away from your ownーhey, maybe dying at the hands of someone like him wouldn’t be…too bad.
though, in the end, you could never hide things from malleus. if he couldn't detect your excitement from your face, something else revealed it for you. the slits in his eyes thinned, he glared at you. he could smell, ever so slightly, a hint of your arousal.
“...my. do you have a death wish?”
as soon as those words left his lipsーyou blinkedーsuddenly finding yourself having been thrown onto your desk, your back slamming onto the hardwood.
you gasped as you abruptly came out of your trance and felt him securely hold your legs as he towered over you. malleus wasted no time in entertaining those lewd thoughts your body was so clearly showingーwith a simple snap of his fingers, your clothes vanished and fell beside you. to say you were shocked to see this sudden change in him would be an understatement. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, with how fast everything was moving, you could say he was eager butーwith that expression…
it looked as if your mere presence disgusted him.
malleus slid his hand up over your neck, wrapping his long fingers around it before slowly squeezing as he spoke.
“heh. child of man, give me one good reason why i shouldn’t kill you right here.”
your body was shaken to its core. that voiceーthat sentence alone made you feel faint. you pathetically flailed your arms around, weakly trying to release the grip he was slowly tightening on your neck. the pressure around your throat distracted you from how vulnerable you looked under him right now. naked and shiveringーmalleus started to grin and leaned close to you, gently planting a kiss on your forehead. it was strange. the kiss felt so soft on you, yet the pain you felt merely inches away couldn’t have been more different.
he laid tiny wet kisses down your forehead and jaw before snatching his other hand and slipping it between your legs, gently teasing your wet folds. something about the contrast between his touch and his kisses made you melt; you felt yourself slump lower and lower onto the desk as you embarrassedly leaked all over it. “...malleus- i’m- i’m sorry-” you wheeze, still trying to release the vicious hold he had on your neck.
his face stayed close to you, and he suddenly licked a long stripe up your neck and jaw. the sudden sensation made you twitch, moaning slightly at how warm and wet his forked tongue felt against your bare flesh.
“it’s all too late to apologise now.”
“tutoring you was an utter waste of time. now, i’d much rather try something else.”
before you could even attempt to reply, he let his hand from your neck free. you gaspedーsuddenly feeling your naked, trembling body be dragged to the edge of the desk. your mind was racing so much that you failed to hear the sound of his belt suddenly slamming against the ground. you stared off at the ceiling, your lip quivering. the whole thing seemed like a dream, albeit a strange one. your rational mind refused to accept the reality of the situationーbut your body...had never felt so hot before. it felt unbearable; you needed to be relieved. and luckily, malleus was there, leaning over with his gaze searing through you evermore.
he forcefully propped your shaking legs up against his waist with one hand, immediately snatching your face to make you look at him. however, for a moment, it looked as if he had forgotten what had led you two to be in such a predicament and simply loomed over you, staring at you. his gaze almost switched to a softer one, feeling the urge to gently caress your cheek. though that was quickly discarded, and immediately that familiar look of disgust soon reappeared on his face.
malleus moved his hips closer to yoursーfinally feeling his hard erection brush against your twitching core; you wincedーwishing you could throw your arms around him and bring him even closer to you.
malleus, however, was not in the mood to be so courteous to you and certainly didn't want to take up any more time than had already been lost.
without any preparation, you suddenly felt malleus drive one of his cocks into you. you screamed out, feeling him sliding and bottoming out of you with just one thrust. swiftly, with three of his fingers then violently thrust into your mouth, you gagged and choked, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks, 
“bite down. good students know not to be noisy.”
you tried to pathetically choke out to malleus that it was too muchーyour body shook and convulsed from the agonising splitting pain of his long, hard cock bullying its way into you, poking and prodding at your cervix. you sank your nails into the desk, biting down hard on his fingers as he pushed and slammed his hips into you, your cries for help becoming louder by the second. within minutes of him thrusting into you, you felt pressure rapidly build in your stomach, causing you to clench and squeeze against him. 
“oh? what’s this? don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?”
you wailed, but his insulting remarks just made you feel worse about your own increasing arousal. still choking on his fingers, you nodded frantically when you then felt sharp cramping throughout your body as if you were about to cum. he swiftly slipped his fingers out while he was still thrusting into you just so he could hear your pitiful cries. 
you felt your body shudder against the desk as a wave of scorching hot pleasure swept over you, pouring and seeping down onto the hardwood under you. you tried to catch your breath, gagging and choking as you already felt so sore and painful from just one orgasm. but it was obvious that malleus wasn't through with you just yet. it was, if anything, just the start.
he gave you time to calm down, your breath slowly easing as you shut your eyes, thinking this torture had reached its end. 
of course, malleus would not let you off that lightly. his rage persisted and seeing you believe that this punishment was over just made him more spiteful.
he leaned in, his breath hot, “i’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself. now put your arms around me.” his tone was once again mocking, but this time it felt more serious, like everything you did would simply enrage him more.
he suddenly forced you into a mating press, your legs wedged up against your chest as you struggled to wrap your trembling arms around his head. you cried out and started to think that your body wouldn’t be able to handle thisーthat he might actually break you.
as he started to softly drive into you, drawing more weak and muffled groans from your lips, your hands connected to the base of his horns, clutching and scraping your nails across them. he started off slow, almost giving a relaxing quality to his thrusts as he softly kissed your forehead and smiled sweetly against your face, much to your surprise. your body relaxed as a result of his sudden shift in attitude, enjoying the fleeting moments of him lovingly moving his hips against yours, which were only going to abruptly come to an end.
your eyes were closed, not being able to see the horrific smile malleus suddenly had across his face. you assumed that the strange sadistic side of him had long since vanished, as evident by your voice becoming moans of pure pleasure rather than of pain. regardless of his disposition, he enjoyed seeing you this way. seeing how you moaned so quietly and softly only made the urge to completely ruin you that much stronger.
“are you enjoying this?”
you slowly opened your eyes, malleus still gently pushing into you as you lazily nodded, whimpering as the pleasure inside you continued to become greater. “mmm…malleus. it feels so good…don’t stop.” 
“heh. so you think you can tell me what to do? your disrespect truly knows no bounds.”
your growing sense of pleasure abruptly gave way to a dreadful fear as he pushed your legs higher onto your chest and over his shoulders, making it clear that he was absolutely certain you couldn't get away. not understanding what he meant, your lip began to quiver, only for him to rid you of your confusion by suddenly thrusting into you aggressively. you screamed out, tears soon welling in your eyes again as he gave you no time to acclimate to the sudden pace. he licked his lips, savouring the view of you struggling and wailing underneath him as he gradually began to envelop your neck with his fingers. he hovered his face close to yours, sticking his long, forked tongue out before sloppily kissing your lips, still continuing his ruthless pace. you groaned under him, feeling yourself beginning to choke from both his tongue and his fingers, which were slowly beginning to squeeze your throat once again.
it was all far too muchーyour vision starting to blur, and all of your senses drowning and bleeding into one another as he kept pounding his thick cock into you, causing you to harshly grip and pull his hair. 
he immediately drew his face back and tutted at you, but seeing the way your eyes began to roll into the back of your head only made him want to quicken his paceーif it was even possible. 
“haha…perfect. so perfect…”
the words coming out of his mouth didn’t make sense. he was praising you yet abusing you with every thrust and squeeze of your body, not even giving you a chance to cry out as your head slowly began to feel faint. all of the pain and pleasure made you lose your mind, feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly as he started to lick and nip at your ears. 
he throbbed and twitched inside of you and felt his own climax begin to rise, eventually making the decision to be generous enough and remove his vice-like grasp from around your neck. you gasped and cried out, finally able to breathe and mewling as a result of his cruel touch. 
“malleus...ーpleaseーit’s too…ーmuch... ’m gonna-” he smiled at your pleas, pressing your legs harder against your chest, allowing him to thrust even deeper into you.
“heh, are you going to cum? haha…then do it. cum for me.”
it seemed as if he had put you under a spell with how immediate and intense your orgasm was, your walls clenching down on his throbbing cock with tears dripping down your chin. you felt the sensation of hot, burning pleasure wrack through your body once again, not even hearing your own screams from how strong it was.
malleus didn't even allow you to come down from your high. instead, he kept pushing to reach his own climax, feeling his body start to shudder and throb as he kissed you. “i’m…close…you’ll allow me to cum inside of you, won’t you? i know you will.” 
you didn’t even care anymoreーyour legs continued to shake and tremble as you feebly nodded with your eyelids flickering. it seemed like malleus would fulfil his word, for a few seconds later, he let out a moan as he unleashed and pumped copious loads of white cum into you, causing you to whimper as you felt him completely fill you up.
his breathing evened almost immediately. wiping the sweat from off your face, he delicately slid his cock out from inside of you to admire his work, gazing at the way your body jerked with his cum spilling and gushing out of your abused hole.
“heh. maybe tutoring you every week won’t be so bad after all.”
2K notes · View notes
catboybiologist · 7 months
Text
Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.
Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!
As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!
Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.
Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!
Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!
And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):
Tumblr media Tumblr media
If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!
Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.
I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:
Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:
This includes the way I came out on tumblr:
And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:
Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:
Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL
As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.
I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.
So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee
741 notes · View notes
g4l4xy-qu33n · 5 months
Text
Jax SFW Alphabet
A/N: These are all my personal headcanons, so pls don't get mad and say that my headcanon isn't the exact same as yours! This was written with afab reader in mind, but no genitalia is described, nor is there use of any gender-specific pronouns for the reader! (If you find one, pls let me know!) No body type describe for the reader either, this can be read by all! Proofread by nobody <3
Warnings: Mentions of smutty/nsfw activities, but not highly descriptive and detailed. Light use of swearing. (D1ckhead and similar) Also this is very long.
Anyway, let's get right into the show list!
Tumblr media
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Let’s just say Jax isn’t the most affectionate of people (rabbits?)
He shows affection towards you with relentless teasing, jokes, and pranks, which are the same as (or worse than) the ones he pulls on the other members of the circus.
He is a sucker for long, drawn out make-out sessions in your (or his) room when nobody else is around, though. 
And if you ask him nicely, he’ll probably cuddle you. On the condition that no one else is around, and it’s in private
Pet names. Jax lives for calling you pet names. And the ideas for pet names always come from what you are. If you’re a rabbit, you’ll get called his bunny, honey-bunny, etc. If you’re a dog you’d get puppy, if you’re a cat you’d get kitten. If you’re a doll of sorts, you’ll get doll, or dollface, and the list goes on and on. 
Jax loves to flirt with you. Sure, pet names are a way of flirting, but he also just likes the blatant, generic flirts too.
Teasing. This man is such a tease. If you stumble, he’ll ask how your trip was. If you rant about an interest, he’ll make fun of you for it. In a kind enough way of course.
He also does this thing he calls “surprise kisses”, which is when he would kiss you anywhere at anytime, whether you expect it or not. It’s usually on the cheek, or forehead, but he’s done your mouth and neck before, just to tease and fluster you.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
Having Jax as a best friend would be of course full of jokes, tricks, pranks, you name it. 
He’s a natural friendly-flirter. He can and will flirt with you, whether you like it or not. Him flirting doesn’t mean he necessarily has feelings though, just depends on your status of partnership.
And he’ll tease you, call you pet names, all that fun stuff.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Jax would protest cuddles at first, but once you’re in his arms, he’ll snuggle for hours on end.
His favourites ways to cuddles include anything where he’s holding you. One he likes specifically is when he’s on his back and your head is on his chest, arms wrapped around his middle, his long arms draped casually on top of you, so you're pretty much lying on top of him.
That, or a similar one, the difference being that you’re next to him instead, with one arm draped over him and one leg hooked over him, head in the crook of his neck. 
Another one of his favourites is when you’re both on your sides, and you’re facing each other, your head buried in his chest. He only likes it because he feels protective with the way you’re curled up. (He also likes the intertwined legs but shhh)
And on the very VERY rare occasion of when he just wants to be snuggled, he’ll do any of these, but reversed so he's being cuddled instead of doing the cuddling.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Eh. I doubt he’d consider settling down. If it’s something you really really REALLY wanted, he’d think about it, but for the most part, no, I don’t think Jax would want to settle down. 
I also feel like he’d flat out refuse to cook or clean, unless you were sick or something.
He can’t cook, he’ll probably burn the digital world to the ground.
And Jax would always flat out refuse to clean. Nope, he’s never touching a cleaning supply in his digital life. Usually, he’ll make someone else do it.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
If Jax had to break up with his S/O, he’d be straight forward, and just say that he needs/wants to break up with them, no matter how serious the reason is.
He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it at all, and depending on how much he loved his S/O, he might feel bad about it later.
If he really did love you, he’d sob to himself in his room, but apart from that, he’d seem unaffected by your absence.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
Honestly, is being married in the digital world even a thing? Who knows, I certainly don’t.
“Woah woah woah. Slow down. You wanna what?!” Is what Jax would probably say if you brought up the idea of marriage.
Being in the digital world, marriage wouldn’t make much of a difference to the relationship, so he doesn’t really see it as necessary. You see each other every day anyway…?
Jax would probably never propose unprompted, so be sure to remind him if you really do want to get married. (Or just propose to him yourself if that works for you.)
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Jax is a very rough person. (Rabbit??)
He’d be quite physical with you, purposefully bumping into you, knocking you over, just straight up pushing you over and shoving you, leg sweeps if he feels like it, etc. 
He’d probably just randomly pick you up out the blue, too. You’d be standing in the circus and suddenly scoop! And you’re in his arms, bridal style.
But don’t get mad at him, it’s all for the jokes.
When it comes to how gentle he is emotionally, let’s just say you’ve almost never seen this guy cry.
Around the other circus members he’s loud, obnoxious and a general dickhead. Around you? He’s very much the same. But with a little less obnoxious, and a little more cocky.
I feel like he would only cry if something terrible happened to you, like if you abstracted or similar, but even then it would be hard for the tears to come out.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
He loves hugs, but he would never say that in front of anyone, not even you, if the relationship is new.
You only know he likes hugging you because of the way he holds you tight and close, and the way his smirk turns a little more into a sincere smile when you’re in his arms. 
He’d take your hugs any time of the day, any day of the week, any week of the month. (I could go on, but won’t, to spare you your sanity.)
When it comes to how often he initiates hugs, well… that differs. You can never really guess when you’re going to get hugged by him, to be honest.
If he’s feeling playful, he’d scare you by hugging you from behind when you least expect it. If he just wants to hold you, he’ll just approach from behind politely enough. If he’s horny however… that’s a different story completely ;)
Jax’s hugs are amazing. The way this tall rabbit's long arms wrap around you is enough for you to decide that you never want him to let go. 
While hugging, Jax won't hesitate to start running his hand down your head, or through your hair - if you have any.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
It takes Jax forever for him to say the L-word. Heck, you may even have to remind him to say it every so often.
I feel like he’d only say it once he really trusts you, and really feels like you’re the one he trusts the most.
I imagine he’d say it in the most dramatic situation possible. (He’s a sucker for drama)
Picture this: you’ve just gone through one of the most scary, traumatising ‘adventures’ that Caine puts you through. You’re with Jax, calming down, and he just whispers “I love you”. You’re too stunned to speak, but you just smile, looking at him and whispering an “I love you too, Jax.” back, ending the moment with a sweet kiss.
(If you imagine something else too that’s cool. My brain just came up with that.)
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
At first, Jax would get incredibly jealous if you’d spend more than twenty minutes without him. He’d start getting annoyed and playing mean and potentially dangerous pranks on the circus member(s) you were hanging out with.
Thankfully, you’d realise pretty quickly what’s up, calling him out on it and talking it through.
After that, he won’t show his jealousy if you’re hanging out a lot with the rest of the gang, but he definitely would still get jealous, and he’d show it in… unconventional ways. Like in bed. Or with pranks that only affect you, but still make you laugh.
Once the relationship has been going on for a while, his jealousy would be mostly non-existent. 
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
I’ll say it now, and I’ll say it again. Jax absolutely lives for kisses. 
He’d take any chance he can to press his lips against you, whether it’s against your lips, or if he’s kissing your cheeks or forehead. Or literally anywhere else.
Jax loves to kiss you anywhere, but he does have a few favourites, which include (in no particular order):
Your lips. He loves to kiss your lips, even if it can be a little strange, with his teeth. But you aren’t complaining, you get to kiss Jax!
Your forehead or the top of your head. As he’s (probably) taller than you, the top of your head is easily accessible.
Your neck. Ohh he loves to kiss your neck. Sure it’s usually sexual, but he also does it sometimes just to mess with you. He may even bite, who knows ;) (if he open his mouth lmao)
The back of your hands. This is rare, but he likes it because he gets to act all dapper like a gentleman, when he’s really not.
Your thighs. Now this one’s purely sexual, but he still loves to do it because he gets to stall and tease what’s to come.
If you want to kiss him, the best places have to be his lips, cheeks or neck. Just make sure to pull him down by his overalls first, he might be a bit too tall for you to initiate kisses with.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
Jax is absolutely horrible when there’s children around. Thank god there isn’t any in the Amazing Digital Circus. 
He has no filter, and would probably just start swearing in front of them, too. 
Not to mention his pranks. Jax would probably pull a nasty prank on a kid, not realising they’d actually be scared of it.
Jax would be especially bad if the kid(s) are emotional or crying. He would just be standing there, awkwardly while this kid just bawls.
And he’d probably snap at the kids if they’re too annoying for his liking.
So pretty much, don’t ever make Jax be around kids, and don't every put kids around Jax 
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
As both the moon and the sun are out at the same time in the Digital World, what even is night and day, really?
Regardless, mornings with Jax are usually spent in one of two ways:  
Getting up early to prank people while they’re still asleep and in their rooms, 
or cuddling each other in either person’s room.
And no matter which one you choose, it’s guaranteed to be fun.
And of course there’s a special third option, but that’s not for this alphabet list ;)
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
Nights with Jax are more or less the same as mornings: three things you could be doing.
Playing pranks on people so that they’ll never get to relax (haha)
Or snuggles in either persons room.
And as before, there’s a third option that isn’t exactly meant for this list.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
Technically, there isn’t much to reveal, what with being stuck in the digital world where you can’t remember your past human life.
But if there was things to reveal, I feel like it would take a while for Jax to open up. 
He’s stubborn, and probably a bit of a jackass. (Haha get it? Jax the Jackass? I’m so funny/s (sarcasm))
He wouldn’t answer any questions you ask him until he really knows you. Like really knows you.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
Jax doesn’t have an ounce of patience.
You’re a minute late to an adventure? He’s coming to your room to get you.
You say something like “be there in a minute.” And it's a second over a minute and you're not with him yet? He’s looking for you.
In all honesty, the only reason he’s so impatient with you is because you’re nice to him, and he cares about you.
But he’d never admit that out loud.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
Jax has a weird thing for the details.
He won’t remember things like your birthday or your favourite colour, but he’ll remember that one specific story you told him, and what day and exact time you said it.
But it’s not like either of you can even remember anything from the human world anyway, so what does memory really matter when you can just choose a new favourite colour, or a new birthday?
To be honest I doubt he’d remember your (new) name for the first few days as well.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
He has many favourite relationship moments, but the first few that come to mind when brought up are:
Your first kiss. He only remembers this specifically because it made him realise that there can be true happiness in the digital world. (He also liked that it evolved into something more steamy. Don’t accuse him of that though, he’ll get mad.)
When you pranked him for the first time. He just thought it was really funny and cute that you used his own tricks against him, and that you’re learning from the best. (Him, of course.)
When he pranked you for the first time. This one’s self explanatory, he just likes pranking people.
And your arrival into the Digital Circus, because that's when he met you for the first time.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
Jax is super protective, but only because he doesn’t want you abstracting.
If you were in any danger, he’d come and hold you close until you start complaining.
He’d wrap his long arms around you, and probably rest his head on yours, or your shoulder.
If any of the other circus members were to get mad at you for something, he’d immediately rush to your side as soon as he finds out, holding you close and practically growling at whoever got mad at you.
And if anyone else tried to lay a hand on you, there wouldn’t be much you could do to stop Jax yelling at them.
He’s just a jealous guy.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
The amount of effort he puts into your relationship depends on whether he finds the activity interesting or not. 
Because if he thinks something is boring or tacky, prepare yourself for the disappointment of him declining your offer.
But if he does seem to find something interesting, he’ll go all out just for you.
Like for your anniversary. Think digital flowers, a digital suit for him, a digital dress for you, and a digitally candlelit digital dinner, probably at that restaurant Caine was in that was full of NPC’s from the pilot. 
And if you're happy, he'll screw your brain out later, too.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
If you don’t like his pranks, then that definitely counts as a bad habit in your book. If you don’t mind the pranks/don’t care about them then you’re probably indifferent.
I feel like he growls. I don’t know when or why, but I feel like he has a bad habit of growling when he snarls.
One bad habit he hates but you probably love is the little tiny squeaking noises he makes when he’s really happy. That’s something you can tease him about. (But hey, he can’t help that he’s a rabbit, and rabbits make squeaking noises)
To be honest, what counts as a bad habit and a good/neutral one is up to personal opinion, so that’s for you to think about.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
Jax could care less about how he looks, as long as it’s something along the lines of nonchalant and chill, with a bit of prankster mixed in there.
And in the Amazing Digital Circus, I doubt there’d even be a need to style yourself in front a mirror every morning, you’re just a bunch of readily formed shapes stacked on top of each other after all. No real hair, - or fur - no real clothes so no wrinkles or creases, etc. 
So looks don’t matter too much in the digital world.
You don’t even get to choose what you look like anyway, so why be worried?
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
Jax would probably tell himself he feels fine without you, but deep down he would know he’s lying to himself, and that he really does feel incomplete without you near him.
Take for example, if you abstracted, Jax would probably be on the verge of abstracting as well, seeing as you were the only one that liked him, anyway.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
He really likes getting pet.
Whether it be his head, back, arms, ears, etc - Jax would love it.
Since he’s a rabbit, getting pet would also make his foot thump, just like real rabbits from the human world.
His ears are also ticklish.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
Jax would hate someone who can’t take a joke, or prank.
Anyone he says ‘needs to lighten up’ won’t be on very good terms with him for too much longer.
He also wouldn’t like anyone who’s constantly crying, unless they have a valid reason to be. Jax’s list of valid reasons to be crying isn’t very long.
Nor would he like anyone who’s a child, even if they’re an adult in a child’s body size, it still doesn’t fly.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
Needing sleep in the digital circus? Yeah right.
Life in the digital world pretty much means sleep isn’t necessary, but everyone does still go to bed, even if they don’t fall asleep.
Thought if he did have to sleep though, Jax would very much be a late to bed, late out of bed sorta guy.
Either that or no sleep at all, winging life with constant all-nighters.
404 notes · View notes
bg-brainrot · 26 days
Text
Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Rating: Teen
Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.
Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities
A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."
I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!
Word count: ~5.6k
Tumblr media
Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.
Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.
But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.
He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.
The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.
This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.
“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”
You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”
It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”
“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.
“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.
Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?
He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.
Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.
The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.
It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.
“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.
“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”
He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”
Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”
You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question. 
What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.
Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”
He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts. 
He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.
They snuck off to find a lover.
They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.
They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.
They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.
It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?
__
You had concocted a nice, simple plan.
It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.
Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.
After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.
But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.
The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.
Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.
"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”
The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.
You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.
The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.
“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”
Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”
“You know that’s not what I–”
“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”
You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.
The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.
“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”
Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”
Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.
“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.
“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.
“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”
You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.
For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.
“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”
“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”
“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”
He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”
“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”
“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”
After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.
The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.
After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.
“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”
Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”
The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”
“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.
Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”
“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.
“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”
“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”
You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.
So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”
You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.
For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions. 
When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort. 
You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”
“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”
You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.
Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.
Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.
Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.
Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.
And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”
As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”
And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.
“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.
“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”
“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”
Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”
“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.
“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”
“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart. 
“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”
“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.
You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.
Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”
“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”
“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.
Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’
“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”
They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.
For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.
Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.
Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.
He turns the corner, on high alert.
Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.
That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.
Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…
Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.
If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.
But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.
So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”
Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”
“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”
“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”
“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”
Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”
“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.
“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.
“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”
What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.
Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.
“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this? 
More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.
“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”
How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”
Then you drop to a knee in front of him.
– 
“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”
“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.
You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.
But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.
It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.
“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”
Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.
You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.
“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”
It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.
His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”
“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”
The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”
“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”
Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”
You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”
“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.
“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.
You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”
His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”
“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”
__
Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.
So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.
You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.
Gods he would never tire of kissing you.
I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.
Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.
No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.
So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”
You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”
Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”
You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.
“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”
The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”
You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”
“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.
“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”
“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”
To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”
“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”
“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.
“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”
Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”
Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”
“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”
“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”
“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”
He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”
“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.
“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”
“Oh yes.”
The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”
The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”
He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”
You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”
“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”
“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.
“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”
Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.
It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.
373 notes · View notes
thus-spoke-lo · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
A Firm Hand // Red-Haired Shanks x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Kinks: Spanking + Daddy Kink
Tumblr media
CW: afab!reader; no pronouns used to refer to reader but gendered pet names used [ex. good girl]; Mihawk x reader referenced with implied open/poly relationship; cockwarming; spanking [reader receiving]; daddy kink; oral sex [reader receiving] WC: 2.5k // Fictober Masterlist
Tumblr media
Shanks reclines on his couch, thick thighs spread, a glass of whiskey raised to his lips; the ice clacks against his teeth as he sips, a quiet groan echoing in the cup. You tilt your head to the side, pressing your back against his bare chest, and kiss the corner of his mouth, catching a drop of liquor that trickles down towards his jaw. A rumble of satisfaction reverberates in his chest, and he sets his glass down to snake his arm around your waist, his condensation-cooled palm a relief against your heated skin; you grind down on his pelvis in response, subtly fucking yourself on his thick cock, rolling your hips as you chase your pleasure.
“You were only supposed to be keeping it warm, honey,” he chides you through a low groan— though the way he rocks up into you and the way he pulses inside your warm, wet walls says he certainly doesn’t mind your departure from your assigned task. “I’ll fuck you when I’m done with my drink, remember?”
“I know, daddy, but I can’t wait,” you mewl, using the title you know fuels a fire within him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and throbs in response, his thighs tensing under yours. “I want you now, not later.”
“You’re just so needy today, baby. Maybe I should just take you right now, huh?” Shanks’ hand roams over your form, his rough palm cupping each breast and kneading them, rubbing his thumb over your pebbled nipples until you whimper and clench around his cock. He trails down with an unhurried pace, until his fingers reach your pussy, spread perfectly open for him, your thighs dangling over his. He slowly makes circles over your clit, humming in approval with your every little whine that it elicits. “Yeah, maybe I should just fuck this pretty little pussy of yours ‘til you’re all achy and sore—make you cum on my cock over and over. And then—oh and then—I’ll fill you up ‘til it’s leaking out of you. Is that what you want, sweetheart?”
A breathy “uh-huh” leaves your parted lips as you writhe in his lap, his words as smooth and intoxicating as the whiskey that still lingers on his tongue.
“Mm, that’s too bad then—I don’t think you’ve earned it.” He stills his hips and shifts under you, just enough to start to ease himself out of your warmth, carefully pulling you off him and setting you down on the couch beside him as you whine from the sudden feeling of emptiness in your needy cunt. “In fact, I think you need to learn a little discipline, sweetheart.”
‘“Earned it’? ‘Discipline’?” you scoff in between soft, panting breaths, biting your lip coyly as Shanks leans down and cups your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Sounds like you’ve been spending too much time with Mihawk.”
“And so what if I have?” he chuckles, tilting his head, hungry eyes roaming over your features. “You don’t seem to mind it all that much.”
“He’s so mean, though,” you pout through pursed lips as Shanks squeezes your cheeks and playfully mocks your scowl.
“Aww, but you like it, don’t you?” His voice is a low growl, the purr of a predator still at rest—for the moment.
You mumble something that sounds like “yeah” and avert your gaze, your cheeks beginning to burn. It is precisely because of the stark contrast between them that you appreciate the strict discipline and routines that Mihawk favors—he teaches you proper behavior, control over your desires, patience that is rewarded with passion. Shanks, in contrast, is a pleasure-seeker in the same way that you are, a hedonist at the core who will try anything once. He is never one to deny you anything, as it only would mean he would deny himself—he gladly gives into your whims and your urges, indulges every whine and whimper of yours until you’re tangled in the bedsheets, bodies slicked with sweat, your lungs aching from panting breaths and fits of laughter.
“So what if I’m a little mean, then?” Shanks coos, his mouth barely brushing yours, tongue darting out to flick at your lips.
“Shanks, it’s just—it’s different with you.”
“Ah, I see.”  Shanks grins, a flicker of something sordid in his dark eyes. “So he’s mean daddy, and I’m nice daddy, is that it?”
“Well, I mean—”
“Maybe we should change that…” he trails off for a moment, his tongue poking at the side of his mouth. “…little brat.”
“I’m not a brat!” you protest, despite the fact that your complaint only proves his point.
“Oh, but you are,” he smirks, tapping your nose with the tip of his finger. “And I’m gonna see if I can’t get you to behave a little better. Go bend over the bed for me.”
“Yes, captain,” you sass as you stand, sticking your tongue out at him.
“Ah, now that’s not it, is it?” Shanks picks up his glass of whiskey again, half-melted ice swirling in the amber liquid, and raises an eyebrow at you—one that suggests you answer correctly this time.
“Yes…daddy.”
“Good girl.” He downs the rest of his liquor and sighs, a wry smile creeping across his lips. “Now go and put your hands flat on the bed and bend over—put your ass in the air for me, nice and high.”
You make a show of sauntering over to his bed, hips swaying slowly, as if to tempt him into abandoning his threats of punishment, willing him to push you onto the bed and bury his cock into you, forgetting all about anything except the paradise between your thighs. You bend over, placing your palms on the mattress, and wait.
And you wait.
And you wait.
The air in his cabin is still except for sounds of his breathing, soft and steady, more composed than you’d expect given that his some of his favorite parts of you are on display so wantonly. Each moment that passes makes your pulse race a little faster, your body tremble a little harder, your need for his touch build a little more. It’s clear he knows what he’s doing, driving you to the brink of desperation by doing absolutely nothing at all—perhaps Mihawk had taught him a little too well.
At last you hear footsteps moving towards you, then the heat of his body radiating against your skin as he stands behind you, just out of reach for you to try to grind against him—he knows your tactics all too well.
“Can you tell me why you’re here, sweetheart?” he asks calmly, his hand softly running over each of your ass cheeks, gently caressing and kneading your chilled flesh.
“Because you’re being mean?” you tease back, trying and failing to turn around and look at him as he placed a strong hand on the small of your back and presses down, keeping you solidly in place.
His hand slides down and grabs the meat of one of your thighs, nails digging into your tender skin; he inhales sharply at the sound of the pained yelp that he pulls out of your. “Try again, brat.”
“Because—because I need to learn to be patient?” Your voice grows quiet, subdued—it surprises you how quickly you surrender, how ready you are to submit with just a touch, just a word.
“Good girl, that’s right.” His tone is condescending, almost patronizing. “Now stay still, and let daddy teach you a lesson, okay?”
Before you can respond, he lands two swift smacks on your ass, one on either cheek, the sharp noise of his wide hand against your skin ringing in your ears before you could even register the biting sting. A surprised yelp and a pained “Daddy!” leaves your lips, taken aback by the strength of his blows; despite his earlier threat, you had expected that he’d give you a few light slaps, playful taps like when he passes you in the galley or walks behind you in the streets of unfamiliar towns. But, it seemed, Shanks is taking his role seriously.
“Doing alright, honey?” he asks, his tone almost cloyingly sweet, his fingertips running over your backside.
“Y-yeah, ‘m okay.”
“Good. That was just a little test. Now you’re going to take your punishment—show daddy what a good girl you can be.”
He lets out a low chuckle, squeezing and lightly tapping the sore spots, lulling you into a moment of calm. In an instant, the calm ends and he lets forth a series of blistering swats, his hand moving swiftly, covering the whole of your ass and upper thighs in stinging slaps that would surely bloom with welts and bruises by morning. Silent tears start to form at your lash line and drip down your puffy cheeks, turning into rivulets as you choke back a sob, one not entirely out of pain or anguish, but out of something else, some release that he triggers with the heaviness of his hand against your quaking body, with the weight of knowing that praise and sweet caresses will await you at the end.
Each hit is calculated, measured and precise—some moments apart, some coming in short bursts of four or five. Every nerve feels as though it’s been set ablaze, and your mind is slowly rendered blank, the emptiest it’s been since he’d last fucked you senseless—no thoughts left to think, only the sweet sensation of his heavy palm against your inflamed skin, and the feeling of your slick starting to trickle down your legs.
Heat spreads across your lower half as you writhe under his firm hand, and a heady mix of intense arousal and deep, searing pain send you drifting into a headspace you’d only been in under the careful eye of your other lover. Time melts and pools under you, and when Shanks finally stops—his breathing heavy, his warm hand soothing your even warmer backside—it feels like he’s been at this forever, and yet like he’s barely begun.
“How was that, baby?” he asks softly, his hand settling on your lower back. “Think you’ve learned your lesson?”
You nod, every movement feeling labored, like swimming in quicksand.
He leans down closer to you, kisses your tear-stained cheek. “Use your words for me, sweetheart—I need to hear it.”
“Yes, daddy,” you mumble against the bedspread. “I’ll be good now.”
“That’s my good girl,” he coos, leaving a gentle kiss at the crown of your head. “Now, since you were so good for me, I think you deserve a reward. Why don’t you lay down for me? Get nice and comfy, okay?”
You carefully lift yourself off the mattress and crawl up the bed on shaking limbs, gingerly setting yourself down, wincing as the raw, tender skin of your ass meets the bedspread. Shanks stands at the end of the bed for a moment, smirking as he admires his pretty little mess for a moment, his thick cock sitting heavy in his palm as he slowly strokes his hardened length—it seems he enjoyed your session just as much as you did. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress shifting under you, and lowers himself between your legs, placing his arm under your thigh and pulling you down closer until his warm breath tickles your skin.
“Fuck, that got you so wet.” He kisses along your thigh, dragging his teeth over your, leaving little licks and bites in a trail to your center, using his tongue to soothe the marks that he leaves behind. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like it when daddy’s a little mean to you, huh?”
Shanks doesn’t wait for a response—your body has already answered the question. He leans forward, his wide tongue licking slow stripe up and down your slit, tasting every needy bit of you and lapping at your drenched cunt. Your back arches and your hand instinctively reaches for him, fingers grasping for his crimson hair as you moan, sighs of “daddy” weaved into panting breaths and little gasps. He noisily sucks and kisses your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue against it, making swirling motions over it until everything feels like too much to bear—the pulsing and stinging of your bruised ass against the mattress, the quaking of every aching muscle as they tense more and more, the heat churning away in your core, burning like molten lava with every sweet caress of his expert tongue.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against your cunt in between licks, his eyes now focused on you in the throes of your pleasure. He knows he has you on the precipice, teetering right on the edge of satisfaction. “Cum for daddy, sweetheart.”
His permission is all your body needs to release—a rush of air is forced out of your lungs as your body quakes with a dizzying explosion of feeling, wave after wave of shuddering, clenches spasms. Every part of you pulses and shivers and it feels like you’re underwater, the sounds of your own breathing muffled and distant. You don’t even notice when Shanks moves up the bed to sit beside you until he pulls you against him, his sinewy arm wrapping around your shoulder, and he mutters something to you that you can just make out through the haze that still surrounds you—a refrain of “it’s okay, you’re a good girl, such a good girl,” over and over, like a perverse serenade.
You press your face into him, soothed by the rhythmic thudding of his heartbeat, the thick patch of soft hair that covers his broad chest soon becoming matted with your tears. He kisses your forehead, holds you as your body shudders and you fight to slow your breathing and come down from your high.
“Good tears, honey?” he asks after a moment, a mix of concern and curiosity in his graveled voice.
“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling, fingers running over his torso, “very good tears.”
“That’s good.” He sits with you for a moment, letting you wring out the last of your tears, reminding you now and again to breathe deep breaths, filling his own lungs then slowly exhaling, coaxing you to follow along. “So…guess you don’t mind it when I’m a little mean after all, huh?”
“I prefer you when you’re nice.”
“Well, then don’t be a little brat.”
You roll your eyes and sigh, smiling up at him, sticking the tip of your tongue out between your lips, laughing between unsteady breaths.
“Damn, all that and I still couldn’t spank the brat out of you?” He huffs an exaggerated sigh and grins down at you, eyes glimmering with a wickedness that makes your breath hitch in your chest. “Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
353 notes · View notes
demiguisemoon · 7 months
Text
of bears and honey
carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x reader
Tumblr media
© demiguisemoon 2023, do not repost, modify or translate!
synopsis: Things at work became uncomfortable after your and Carmy's first big fight and now you have to ask yourself: Can one make being in a relationship and working together work?
a/n: based on this request! hope you like it. my second carmy fic and I'm vibing A LOT more with it (also just cause i loved the request sm) <3 enjoy reading!
warnings: this should be gn!reader unless i didn't notice anything but no pronouns used for the reader or any other names etc. that specify any gender (written with fem!reader in mind), established relationship, ANGST, little bit of fighting (kinda like passive aggressive stuff), FLUFF, carmy being so fucking cute i can't even
wc: 1.8k
The usual hustle and bustle of The Bear surrounded you as you rushed from one end of the counter to the other, switching between taking orders from new customers and shouting them towards the kitchen.
“Two beef sandwiches, one chicken please!” You yelled towards the kitchen, already on edge with the customers not stopping coming in and you having way too much work for only one person.
You thought you couldn’t be any more stressed out, but not hearing the usual conformational “Yes, Chef!” from anyone in the kitchen in response to the new order was just the cherry on top of the cake. 
With everything you had going on lately — everything meaning things still being slightly on edge since your very first big fight with Carmy — you barely had any nerves left to successfully handle the stress of being the only staff behind the counter during lunch hours.
“Sorry, love,” you turned back to the customer whose order you had just taken. “Just one second. Be right with you!” And turned back around and sprinted to the kitchen, looking for him.
“Corner!” 
“Hey, T, where’s Carm?”
“Office, sweetheart.”
Another sprint to the office later you found your boyfriend hunched over a mess of paperwork on the table. “Uhh, baby?” You said.
Not lifting his head, he simply mumbled a short “Hm?” in response as he kept flipping through the pages of another letter. 
“We need more staff for behind the counter. I can’t do this all by myself, there’s too many customers during lunch.”
Still not looking up, he nodded and mumbled another short reply, “Mhm, I’ll take care of it.”
You wanted to take the matter further but were stopped the moment Richie appeared in the doorway to the office, turning to you. 
“Yo, you gotta get back behind the counter. Like right fucking now.”
Taking a deep breath in oder to keep your composure, you left the room with one last urgent “Please, Carmy” before diving back headfirst into the drowning mass of never-ending orders.
Once the overwhelming rush of lunch business finally settled down you felt like actually breaking down right then and there — mainly physically, although the mental stress of feeling like you were still walking on eggshells around Carmen definitely didn’t help. 
Resting your hands on the counter as you leaned against it, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, only now having the time to notice the excruciating headache that’s been with you all day. 
“All good, babe?” Carmy came around the corner of the kitchen, wiping his hands dry on a clean towel before tucking it back into his apron as his bright blue eyes scanned your frame.
“What?” It came out more as a reflex, quickly being followed by another attempt at trying to resolve the leftover issue of your fight. “Oh, yeah, yeah all good… But like… Are we good? Like, I don’t know— Just feel like, you know… I don’t know.”
You stopped yourself before asking too direct of a question, knowing Carmy had avoided all kinds of personal topics at work for a reason. Since your last big disagreement led to a nasty fight, things started to seep into your work relationship — and not exactly going unnoticed by your co-workers either.
“Yeah, no, we’re good,” he nodded, but you could tell he just wanted to put an end to the conversation. “We talked about it, ’s all good. I’ll find you someone to help you out during lunch.”
“That— That’s not what I was talking about, Carm,” you stuttered, nervously fumbling with the fabric of your apron.
“Oh yeah, yeah. I know.”
“I’m really sorry, babe,” you apologised again, as if you haven’t already done that a million times. But Carmy wouldn’t be Carmy if he didn’t take a damn long time to accept an apology and get over an issue.
“I know,” he said, nodding even more to make his words sound more believable before he disappeared in the kitchen again.
“Not that I’ve been eavesdropping, but… I’ve kinda been eavesdropping,” Richie’s voice sounded from your left as he made his way over to join you behind the counter. “Care to tell me what’s been going on with you two? It’s kinda making working with you, like, super awkward, y’know what I’m saying?”
You sighed, fighting the urge not to roll your eyes at his remark when, quite honestly, you had absolutely no reason to. He was right. Your big fight from two weeks ago did create a weird atmosphere at work.
For everyone.
“Carmy and I had a fight,” you eventually said.
“No way! Really? Damn, like for real for real?” Richie joked, definitely earning an eye roll from you for that one. 
He got the memo, switching back to serious mode as he leaned forwards to give you his full attention. “Okay, what happened?”
So you told him the story.
The story of how you had this insane day at The Bear and were both super stressed out and on edge, ready to go absolutely crazy over the smallest issue any second. 
Of how you wanted to complain about this customer that totally ruined your day and nearly made you cry because, after all, that’s what you’ve always been doing after a shitty day at work. 
Of how you expected Carmy to listen to you and comfort you.
Of how he ended up doing the exact opposite.
“And then he started yelling at me for crying about these stupid things that ‘literally don’t even affect my job’—“ you made quotation marks around his words, mentioning how you still have no idea what the fuck that is even supposed to mean.
“—When he’s there working his fucking ass off trying to keep this restaurant alive and being responsible for every fucking thing that’s going on and having to live with that responsibility every single day, and that he simply does not have the ‘fucking nerves to listen to my baby bullshit’ at the end of the day.”
You took a break, giving Richie time to let the rundown sink in before you continued with the rest of the story of how you apologised profusely and made sure to tell him that you didn’t mean to underestimate his responsibilities and that you should’ve known better and shouldn’t have brought up work at home, where you’re supposed to just be yourselves and not CDC and stupid staff member.
Of how he, eventually, said that it’s all good and mentioned “Let’s just go to bed” and of how things have been weird ever since.
“Goddammit, he’s such a fucking asshole, man. I’m so sorry,” Richie exhaled. “I’ll go fix that real quick.” He walked towards the back of the restaurant before you could even protest, and the last thing you heard was a “Yo, Cousin!” 
A short while later, Carmen reappeared behind the counter, sporting apologetic puppy eyes.
“Come here,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, then taking your hand to lead you outside the restaurant.
“I fucked up, babe,” he apologised. “I’ve been a real fucking asshole for blaming you and acting like the victim ‘cause I was so fucking done with all that shit that’s been going on since— you know, and… I don’t know.” He hesitated for a while, avoiding eye contact as he said what’s really been on his mind.
“I guess it’s just the pressure of working with you, being your boss, having to treat all of you equally and… you know… Things just— things just got so overwhelming ‘cause I love you so fucking much I can barely handle—“
He sighed, leaning back against the cold brick of the building, running a hand through his messy hair as his other one gently caressed yours. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.
“I guess I was just more mad at myself for fucking up — again — that I felt like the only way to handle this would be to put the blame on someone else which turned out to be you which is the, stupidest, unfairest, most selfish thing to do and should give you more than enough reasons to break up with me—“
He could barely stop his desperate rambling. “—And, fuck me, I would die if you ever left me ‘cause you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened in my miserable life and I don’t even know why I deserve you so I just kept spiralling and spiralling and—“
“Carmy?” You could barely contain the smile that crept onto your lips as you watched your boyfriend pour out his heart to you.
Probably for the first time ever. Carmy wasn’t a man of many words.
His icy blue orbs shot up, pure stress and fear reflected in them as he sunk in the warm shine of your loving eyes the second you cupped his face.
“Carmen Anthony Berzatto, you’re the love of my life. I cannot imagine loving anyone as much as you and I cannot imagine ever being with someone except for you but, by God, I need you to stop bottling everything up, baby.”
You whispered the next words as you brought your lips up to his ear. “I need you to talk to me.”
You pressed a sweet, loving kiss to the side of his face before pulling away again, yet never loosing that grip on his face.
He nodded, love and adoration slowly taking over the place in his face that has been in inhabited by fear and despair for far too long. And when he finally found the courage to speak again, his voice sounded like it was one breath away from being broken beyond repair.
“I just feel like I ruined every little good thing in my life,” he whispered, a single tear running down his cheek but you caught it just in time before it could fall to the ground between the two of you.
You kissed him. Once, twice, three times. Letting your lips linger on his as you showed him the love he couldn’t decipher when delivered to him with just words.
“You gotta have some faith, Bear.”
A beat as you let it sink in, then pulled away, still not taking your hands off his cheeks. You knew that grounded him more than anything. 
Your eyes searched for his as your thumb gently caressed his soft skin. “Okay?”
You gave him some time to think, but you knew what his answer would be.
“Okay.” He kissed you. “I love you so fucking much, baby.”
“I know, Bear.”
You didn’t see his smile with your eyes closed and your lips hovering over his, but you felt it. As much as you felt his love for you.
“Gonna make you family tonight.”
You chuckled. He was just the cutest, so tough on the outside, yet so, so soft on the inside. 
thank you for reading! i hope you liked it! &lt;3
i’d be more than happy to receive some feedback, so leave a comment, send in an ask or reblog to share it with others!
758 notes · View notes
alj0saray · 11 months
Text
ೃ⁀➷ TW/CW: DARK CONTENT, 18+ (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DON’T INTERACT), Bad English, SMUT, Noncon, Stalking, Yandere, Public Sex, Sex in the shrine, So very uhh outrageous religion wise?, Gender Neutral Reader (no body description or pronouns) Obsession, Sadism, Scara being mean, Wrote this very fast so sorry if its bad lol, let me know if I need to add more TW/Tags ♡ My blog contains dark content, be careful when interacting/following! Please if you like my work don't forget to reblog/interact with me♡ Minors, ageless, blank blogs, and silent readers will get blocked if interact with me.
Tumblr media
You are one of the many shrine maidens of the Narukami Shrine, simply living your life by doing chores and worshipping the great Electro Archon. Nothing more, nothing less.
Life was simple and monotonous, but you liked it in this way.
Expect one day, one fateful day, one day that was going to be the end of your so beloved calm life.
Tumblr media
You met a small, young looking man with short violet hair and eyes. He reminded you so much of your goddess that you were sure it was her in disguise, but something about that man was making you tremble in fear, as if it was pure instinct telling you to not interact with him, to run away and never come back.
But it doesn't matter what you want or if you pretend to not see him, because it's far too late: he saw you.
Scaramouche likes to follow you, although you don't really do anything interesting. Your life is so plain and boring, yet why does he always see you so content? Why don't you try to run away, to do anything that isn't in your routine? Humans are so weird, no matter how hard he tries he can't understand them.
He can't understand you.
And it angers him that you are so faithful to Raiden Shogun, to the one who tossed him aside as a failure, leaving him to die alone. Yet you believe so much in her, praying everyday and even becoming a shrine maiden for her disgusting shrine. So naïve, so stupid.
He hates you. He hates you so so much. So much that he wants to break your faith in the archon, and he knows what to do. Scaramouche just needs to wait.
And so he waits, and waits and waits. Watching you with anger and perhaps envy, but he simply cannot wait for the moment when you are left all alone so he can devour you, like a predator watching his prey slowly leave their pack and waiting for the right moment to attack. He can already feel his mouth salivating at the thought.
The day finally arrives where you are all alone in the shrine and he can finally strike, finally have you for himself. Kunikuzushi has been dreaming about it for days now; how soft and warm your skin would feel against his, how cute your moan and pleas would sound. His cock was already getting hard simply at the thought and he couldn't wait no longer.
You were much, much better than in his fantasies. Heavenly even. Tears were falling from your eyes as you begged and moaned for him to stop, that he was hurting you as you tried to wiggle away from his grasp but he had a deadly grip on your waist while he kept thrusting in and out of you. The more you cried, the more you begged the more his dick was getting hard inside of you, and the more his thrusts were getting faster and deep. Your pain and sorrow was his delight, Kuni always had a sadistic glee on his face watching you.
"Where is your goddess now? Watching you getting defiled in her sacred shrine by her tossed failure?"
Tumblr media
This work belongs to @/alj0saray, do not repost, translate, copy, rewrite or share on tiktok without my permission. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡
589 notes · View notes