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thisisallthehattersfault · 8 months

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More of my extremely specific half-undead Wei Clan nonsense

It's kind of amazing how quickly you can get used to being woken up every thirty minutes to the sound of shrill screaming.

Not that it ever stops being awful, of course. Just that you eventually stop hoping it won't happen, and resign yourself to this being your future for the next year or so.

Xiao Xie is still mostly asleep, already clumsily moving to de-tangle herself from the warm circle of her husband's arms. She's stopped by Changze giving her a gentle squeeze, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I goddit, m'love," he slurs. "You go back t' sleep."

The he is gone, and taking the warm circle of his arms with him. He pads across the room to lift their crying son from his cradle. A candle flickers to life, not nearly bright enough to disturb her rest should she decide to sleep on. Xiao Xie rolls over to watch her husband tend their baby.

Wei Changze tucks a-Ying into the crook of one arm and raises the other hand to his mouth. With practiced ease, he bites deep into the tip of his pinky finger, tearing at his own flesh, and offers the bleeding little stump for their hungry son to nurse on. She never gets tired of watching it; the way Changze's whole body curls around a-Ying, the adoring look on his face when he's the one feeding their baby. He looks adoring when she's the one nursing him too, of course, and he loves to come up to her and kiss her hair and her hands and the back of a-Ying's little head, but she thinks there's something special when it's Changze feeding a-Ying from his own body. Something that satisfies him.

"Does it matter?" She asks as the thought occurs to her. "How much of each he gets?"

Changze makes a thinking sound. Says "It won't hurt him or anything if he gets one more than the other, but blood is harder to wean from. Apparently a-Niang had a hard time birthing me, and she was sick for a long while after. She didn't have much milk to give, so Baba fed me almost entirely by himself, and I didn't wean completely until I was seven. Even when I started on solid food, I only wanted meat, and preferably raw."

"That explains why you're still such a big baby about eating your vegetables."

He pretends not to hear her, taking his finger back from a-Ying and draping a cloth over his shoulder to burp him against. Xiao Xie shifts the blankets around until she's completely hogged all of them, tucked around her on all sides like she's the filling of a dumpling. She closes her eyes. A moment later another thought occurs to her, and she pops her head back up. "Do you still need it?"

"You were supposed to go back to sleep, my love," Changze says. Then "You've seen me eat human flesh before."

"Yes, but only once, and it was two years ago! I didn't know if you only did that because you wanted to."

Changze makes more thinking sounds. And then he makes more thinking sounds, until Xiao Xie whines at him not to tease her and he relents. "I don't need it often, and it probably wouldn't kill me to quit entirely, but it wouldn't be pleasant. It would be like... hunger, but with your whole body, not just your stomach. There's a constant ache. It can make us stressed and anxious, twitchy. A-Ying, baobei, can you burp for me, please? You drank so much, your little belly is going to hurt if you don't."

"Will he need it?"

"Hm?"

She props herself up on her elbows. "If only I feed him, and we never give him any meat, will he be able to live like that? Safely, comfortably?"

In the dim candlelight, Changze lifts his head to look at her. It takes him a moment to reply. "Do you want him to?"

"I will not deny my son food," she says firmly. "If he needs it, then he will have it. I knew what you were before I married you."

"Ah, my love. I know." Her husband smiles at her, and she smiles back, and their baby finally lets out a wet little burp. With a full belly, he settles back down to sleep without fuss, and Xiao Xie settles back into the warm circle of her husband's arms, and gets some more sleep for herself.

#mdzs #the untamed #wei wuxian #Wei Changze #Cangse Sanren #Cannibalism #fun fact wwx doesn't remember that he needs human blood #and just assumes the chronic pain migranes and anxiety #are a combination of the effects of being homeless for a few years #and the stress of living at Lotus Pier #and it isn't until years later that he finally eats a proper meal #and realizes that he doesn't need to be uncomfortable and in pain at all times #granted he still has chronic pain from the whip scars but #every other part of him stops hurting #also fun fact both of Changze's older siblings weaned just fine #and the whole family absolutely teases him about it forever

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wiseabsol · 8 months

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So a part of my stress lately is that my cats are senior kitties, which means I know that at any point they could start that decline. And while there are fortunately services where I live that can help with end of life care, this will be my first time losing a cat, and since they're the same age, it's probably going to happen in rapid succession. And I'm going to be absolutely wrecked from it.

So right now I'm hyper-aware of signs that they might be going, and one of them has been really making me go "Hmm" the past couple of days. But.

But also my cats are the pickiest eaters on the fucking planet, so I was like, "What if he just doesn't dig the pate I recently bought for them? How about I get some kitty stew and see what he does." And you know what he did?

He fucking annihilated it and then went to steal some of his brother's pate.

Cats, why do you do this to me? My heart can only take so much.

#We'll see if he's feeling better over the next few days #Things like this make me wonder if I'll get more cats after these two #I probably will because I adore cats #But there might be a break for a bit #God I'm tired #I need to make sure I eat a proper meal soon #Maybe after that Pokemon I dunno

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aro-attorneys · 2 years

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Blorbo Bingo for Arystar Krory III

you are my new favourite person ever now OwO

Arystar Krory is the character of all fucking time i am SO not normal about him he's living in my head rent free

#i considered crossing 'if they were real id be afraid of them' but im not so sure actually #he just looks like a goth who needs to eat a proper meal once in a while #arystar krory #character bingo

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husbo-venus · 1 month

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happy 21:34!!!! my housemates have been in the kitchen since i got home 5 and a half hours ago :3

#the one is like SO into cooking atm #its driving me crazy hes cooking proper like restaurant stuff that takes hours to come together three times a day #i genuinely believe hes washing up from one meal while the next one starts cooking #ive not walked in the kitchen once in the last week without something being in a pan or on the stove #driving me maddddddd i need to eaaattttttt

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soap-ify · 3 months

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you love it when simon gets all soft when he stays home for too long, a layer of fat covering up his otherwise hardened muscles, all because you give him proper meals with lots of nutrition everyday!

simon doesn’t mind your adoration at all. in fact, he loves it — loves the way you just lay your head on his soft tummy and feel it rise and fall with every breath he takes, your cheek squishing against his skin. he also loves it when you are nibbling on his bulky arms, sometimes even gnawing on his pecs. he teases you for latching onto his chest like that, just staring at him with those pretty eyes while he scratches you scalp. what are you, a cat? your impulsive thoughts always win when you see him, and he doesn’t mind them at all.

“need to start goin’ to gym, love. gettin’ to soft here.” he grumbled under his breath, though you quickly hushed him with a kiss, pulling away with a pout. he got the message right away.

#i mean i'd do anything to nibble this man's chest #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic

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itostea · 10 months

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the strongest (gojo x wife! reader)

gojo can't help but feel annoyed that he feels concern for the wife he swears he doesn't care for.

warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo refers to you as his wife, enemies to lovers (?), gojo tells you to lift up your top, slight angst, he's really bad at feelings okay, image from loving yamada-kun at lv999 (part of gojo’s wife series)

The lines of intrigue and fear are often blurred. It explains why we admire fire from afar, careful not to get too close in hopes of not getting burned. It explains why we find peace in parts of the ocean and tense up in deeper parts. It also explains why Gojo Satoru seeks your presence yet pushes you away the moment he finds himself feeling something other than indifference or vexation–it’s never hatred though. The strongest can’t envision himself ever hating his wife and it scares him.

He’s not sure that can be said about you. Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you grew to hate him after the treatment you put up with.

Your marriage is what you call a “marriage of convenience” and Gojo made sure you remembered that. He wasn’t always so distant with you. Back then, you might’ve considered him a friend but time did its bidding and you two drifted apart, your time together merely a memory. Now fast forward a few years and you were wedded to him, taking up his surname and sleeping in the same house as him–in separate rooms of course.

Your steps on the wooden floors were silent as you intended not to make a single noise at such a late hour. You sighed, feeling the weight of your heavy shoulders drag you down.

Gojo might be considered cruel to you but the elders were on a different level. They knew this mission would be too much for you yet they sent you on it as punishment for speaking your mind the last time everyone gathered.

At that time, your husband had an unfamiliar gleam in your eyes as you voiced your thoughts on the matter of Itadori. He’s a nice kid, you thought when you first saw the pink-haired boy.

Taking away his youth wouldn’t be fair. After all, he didn’t choose to have the Ryomen Sukuna use him as a vessel. Yet, sentiment doesn’t do well with the higher ups and they made sure you knew your place with the mission they sent you on.

You inhaled sharply, wincing as you felt the bruise on your rib with your palm. There was blood soaking your tights, little cuts littering your legs. You’re so tired you can’t find it in yourself to even eat. Then again, you needed to be in your best condition tomorrow since another mission was sent out of you and specifically you. Those in power always make sure it’s clear that they are in power. Your voice of opinion meant nothing to their beliefs in tradition or what you liked to call, “backward thinking.” That’s one thing you and your husband could agree on.

“Ow,” you wince for the nth time as you open the fridge, scanning the items. Mochi. Ice-cream. Leftover cake. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to go grocery shopping a day prior so you could have a proper meal. This was the kind of stuff Gojo could live on but you couldn’t. Closing the fridge, you opt for instant ramen instead. Not the best choice in regards to healthiness but cracking an egg in there meant more protein and it also minimized the spice levels.

You’re halfway in between preparing the noodles when you feel a presence right beside you and soft breathing besides your ears. “You’re home,” your ‘husband’ mumbles, his eyes half-lidded from just having woken up.

“God! Satoru!” You gasp, flinching away from and only realizing how close he was. For someone who claimed he wasn’t interested in you, he didn’t know what personal space was. “How did you know I was home?”

“Your cursed energy leaked in,” he shrugs his shoulders, peering down at you without the constraints of his blindfold or shades. You gulp as his eyes flit up and down your appearance, causing your insides to tense up in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. Being scrutinized by the six-eyes himself wasn’t much fun and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that your hair is disheveled and your face is sweaty from just having come home from a grueling mission.

You don’t even notice the glint of rage that crosses his hues before he masks it. “Who did this to you?”

“Huh?” You blink, coming to your senses that your body was bloodied up and battered from having fought a curse. “Oh it was just a mission. It’s normal to be hurt on missions.”

Gojo’s been living with you for nearly half a year now and he knows you’re more than competent when it comes to shaman duties (not that he’d ever tell you). He knows you return home by 7 p.m.., and never at hours well past midnight. He knows that you usually only get injuries on your back because you get careless at times. But now, he sees cuts everywhere and he’s not sure if you’re running on adrenaline or if you’re too tired to notice.

His eyes glance at the way you press a palm on your rib, subconsciously squeezing the area as if hiding it from him. “Let me see.”

Your surprise is immediate and he would’ve felt a strange fluttering in his stomach if not for this concern he was experiencing for you. You smile. “See what?”

“Your injury. Let me see it,” he says again, pressing on the hand you hold close to your ribs, narrowing his eyes as you hiss in pain. “Don’t be stubborn (Name).”

His voice is different from the cheery one he often uses and you’re left leaning further into the kitchen counter, acutely aware of the fact that his taller frame wasn’t allowing you to escape. His eyes widen the slightest once he gets a glimpse of your flustered expression as you peer up at him and he only realizes what he was asking from you. Part of him tells him to ignore this and pretend his concern for you was brief. Yet, part of him screams at him that he was your husband, so he should feel the right to be worried–even if he was months late.

He sighs, tilting his head. “I’m just going to look. I promise I won’t do anything else,” his voice is oddly tender as he speaks to you, a contrast to the usual nonchalance you’re used to.

You gulp and let out a shaky sigh, giving in when your fingers reach to pull your top up for him to see the bare skin that you can’t even say is spotless or void of marks. Multiple wounds litter your skin–some faded, some new. You’re scared his gaze would show some signs of judgment or disgust but you’re left bemused when you see how his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. For a second, you allow yourself to be deluded by the fact that he might be worried but you quickly abandon that thought, averting your eyes from him.

You can see how he pieces everything together. From the way you rebelled against the elders and how they saw it as a means to punish you. He does it so quickly that you can only blink when his blank expression morphs into something different. You almost feel relieved from the fact that his expression of pure anger wasn’t directed at you and rather those who sent you on the mission.

It’s almost natural how he slides the top further up, mapping the extent of the bruise with his eyes. His hands are warm and calloused. They’re also gentle, tracing the bruise carefully to not hurt you. “I’ll kill those old bastards,” he chuckles with a sneer. “They have some nerve letting my wife take this mission without me.”

You frown as you see his anger first-hand. “Satoru–”

“Why didn’t you go to Shoko?” He interrupts, gently holding on your waist to prop you on the counter while he stands in between your legs. He watches you intently, in search of answers.

You feel somewhat embarrassed as his hand still lifts your top up to see the bare skin but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t want to bother her so late at night…”

For the first time since today, you see him flash a genuine smile, as if exasperated by your reasoning. “But you’re fine with bothering me?”

“That’s different!” You say, a pout slowly forming on your lips and he can’t help but feel drawn to you even if he doesn’t want to.

He laughs as you pull your top down with a huff, finding it cute that you were so bashful. “Because I’m your husband?”

You go silent and for a second, Gojo thinks he’s messed up for mentioning that. Despite being your husband, he’s not the greatest at doing his job. He’s not callous or spiteful towards you, instead taking on more of a cold and aloof attitude towards you. Even so, he thinks that hurts just as much as a few insults.

He’s about to pull back but your voice draws him back to you. “Yeah. It’s because you’re my husband.”

Gojo can’t stop himself from glancing at your lips at that single statement. He was today years old when he realized he was a man of simple tastes. All you had to do was tell him that he was your husband and he’d want to kiss you until your lips turned red. He considers himself lucky that you didn’t see that slip-up of his–though he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

He breathes out a sigh, propping his chin atop your head while his fingers draw circles around your hips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

It’s a vow he swears to keep.

“I know,” you whisper quietly enough for him to hear. “You’re the strongest after all.”

He thinks it’s funny that even as the strongest, he feels weak when he feels your fingers play with his sleeves. No words are said after that and a comfortable silence drifts between you two. It’s like the barrier between the two of you is cracking once you feel his lips press gently against your forehead and you think it's his way of sealing the promise.

Gojo Satoru thinks–or rather he knows that he wouldn’t mind living the rest of his life with you. And he knows that he should fix his behavior around you and stop running away. That way, instead of a kiss to the forehead, he can finally give you one on your lips.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #arranged marriage #i'm in my jjk phase bye

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simonrillleyyysss · 5 months

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need to sit in between ghost legs as he tells könig the proper way to eat my cunt 🥲

KSEOODBAKDJDUFHRJEE ITS A NEED

sorry it’s short

ghost would be so bossy!! his arms gently wrapped around your neck, lips gently moving across your collarbone; listening to your soft mewls as the redhead between your thighs lapped at your cunt—tongue flicking along your folds, huffing in arousal!!

‘don’t rush, y’ need to take your time, go slow.’

the gruff voice above you commanded, hands moving to cup your breasts, gently groping at the fat;snickering as könig nodded, whining slightly—before slowing his movements; big nose bumping against ur clit!!

‘better. how’s it taste? tell us.’

the austrian let out a soft whine, your eyes fluttering back with soft gasps, his tongue flat against your cunt, hips grinding against his face—muffled speech coming from him, vibrations brushing against your puffy clit!!

‘tastes..tastes so good; sehr, sehr gut.’

‘yeah? sounds like it.’

the blonde mocked, reaching over to tug at königs hair, shoving the man’s face into your pussy, immediately eating you out like his last meal, hands digging into the curve of your thighs, panting like a dog!!

lewd slurping sounds caused you to hide your face in your hand, a chuckle erupting from ghosts chest, thumbs tweaking with your nipple, rolling the bud between his thumb and index finger.

‘gonna make them cum?’

‘Immer.’

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #dilf ghost #ghost is babygirl #könig x reader #könig modern warfare #könig imagine #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig cod #könig fanfiction #i love nasty konig #konig x female reader #konig x gender neutral reader #konig smut #konig x reader

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ririblogsss · 8 days

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Danny pulls an uno reverse card

ok just hear me out.

Danny decided 'you know what this man needs adult supervision' Danny had just moved to Bludhaven as small business weren't questioned even it was owned by a teenager.

So Danny opened up a very cheap mechanic store, prices were to die for and people were thankful he didn't ask questions as long as they did the same for him.

Que one very malnourished and exhausted cop coming in for a check up on their cop car. So Danny took one look at that man and thought he needed someone to help him.

Dick is so confused why plates of food keep appearing everywhere around him, with little post it notes saying he should sleep more and drink water. At first dick thought it was Alfred who finally gained teleportation powers, but one call later confirmed that his original theory was wrong.

He took the nest meal to analyze and found that it was perfectly healthy for consumption. Alfred even said that he thought the person behind it all just wanted Dick to have a more healthy life style.

Dick tried to piece together who could possibly be doing that, especially going into his house undetected. Then one day it was his one day off and the doorbell rung thinking it was one of his brothers because go the short black hair and overall build, he opened the door not to any of his brothers, but a teen nonetheless.

'good at least your taking care of yourself and actually eating proper foods, now I'm here to discuss your extracurriculars and how to time manage them appropriately without running yourself to the ground' the teen pushed past Dick who had his jaw dropped "I've brought my own board with an ideal itinerary that I expect you to follow. Any questions"

"Yeah... just one who that fuck are you kid"

#dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc

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yanderenightmare · 5 months

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Nanami Kento

TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, size-difference, captive darling, subjugation, none of readers holes are safe

AN: kinda a sequel to this - sex therapist ! Nanami

fem reader

In the morning, before breakfast, he expects you to take care of his morning wood.

He says that’s what any proper young lady should do for a man. Petting your hair awfully leisurely while you clean up the sleepy mess – licking the half-wet half-dry glaze from his abs, sometimes needing to tongue it out of his belly button before moving down to his inner thighs and balls – lastly sucking him off for the rest of it.

You’ll lie on your stomach between his thighs under the covers while he’s still resting his eyes – groaning out groggy praise, sometimes with a heavy yawn. “Good girl~”

You don’t get breakfast until his balls are empty, is what you’ve learned.

One time – after he’d shot all his worth onto your tongue, stroking your cheek with a finger while telling you to be his good cum-doll and swallow – you’d retaliated by spitting his it out. And he’d punished you with an hour of being bent over his lap – spanking your poor butt raw – making it welt with popped veins until there wasn’t any space left to punish with a mark.

Then he’d put you down on your knees again and made you kiss his balls while apologizing to them – cuddling the heavy sack all teary-faced while begging for forgiveness.

Once satisfied, he’d encouraged you to suck a new nut from his tip – one which you swallowed in full and thanked him for afterward.

He’d also made you lick the first one up from the floor before cooing at you, wiping your tears with his roughened thumb with a slim smile – telling you that you were forgiven but that if you ever did such a horrible thing as wasting your food again, he’d have no choice but to starve you until you learned to appreciate all your meals properly.

After you’ve done your duty, swallowing his morning wood, you’re allowed downstairs for your second breakfast now that you’ve earned it.

But first, he’ll have you spread your legs so he can skewer one humming toy inside you. “It’s shameful for a lady to walk around with a dry pussy,” he says, and according to him, “you should always be dripping-ready with a twitchy coin-sized hole, happy to get pounded by a man’s fat cock, ever-grateful to receive his warm ball-juice in your womb.”

You iron his suit while he preps breakfast – rubbing your thighs together as they melt with trickles from your cunt – unable to keep yourself from cumming.

One time you were so distracted you’d made a triangle-shaped burn mark on his blue shirt because of it – and he’d punished you by stuffing the toy inside your tight ass instead.

He’d justified it by saying it was your pussy’s fault for being needy and selfish, and therefore it should be your pussy that’s punished.

The whole day, he’d ignored the pretty pink hole and slammed your poor butt instead. Cramming inside the tighty with the help of spit and rubbing oil until it gaped and accepted his pounding while you were bent and bowed in a well-deserved doggy position – rutting into your rear in quick robbing jams with both your hands pinned to your back and his foot placed on your cheek – stomping your pretty face while you sobbed for forgiveness, excusing your tardiness.

The next day, he’d mouthed something apologetic into your cunt. Licking and sucking your clit while saying he was sorry that he’d had to be so rough on you – that he hopes you learned your lesson so he’ll never have to ignore your perfect little pussy ever again. Telling you how he’d breed you twice as much that day to make up for what you’d missed the day before.

But anyway. During breakfast, he makes you cock-warm him on his lap while at the dinner table – telling you to say ah so he can spoon-feed you your share of the plate in front of you.

The toy within you is part of it. He tells you that keeping your toys clean is important and makes you lick your slick off until it’s all gone – praising you with a kiss to your cheek. He tilts his mug and takes the last drops of coffee, finishing it with a loud sigh.

“Is your belly full, baby?” He’ll mumble against your neck, scraping his chin-stubble along the soft skin to place a sloppy kiss there.

“Yes, Daddy, thank you.” You’ve been trained to say.

“Good~” He’ll purr - bouncing his leg, making you roost on his lap, feeling his meaty shaft sink just a bit deeper, curving out and making you bulge. “But this pussy is still starving, isn’t she?” He’ll keep a rough finger-pad on your swollen pearl while at it, rubbing tight circles into it, humming ruggedly from the squeeze it makes. “Want Daddy to fill her up, too?”

You’ll always shudder just a bit at the bite of his cock, bullying into your poor womb as you whimper out an ever so weak, “Yes, please, Daddy…”

He’ll prop you up on the table, making you just the perfect height. Sometimes on your knees – with one hand stationed at the small of your back while the other pulls your hair like a ponytail to keep you from crawling away while he pounds into you from the back.

Other times you’re seated on your ass with your back against the table – one of his strong arms wrapped around your thigh – keeping you steady as he juts into with his heavy ballsack clapping against your ass – his other fist riddled tight around your throat.

Either way, he expects you to beg for it. Cry for his cum, saying, “Thank you for giving me cock, Daddy- it feels so good- please fill me up with your seed!”

After he’s fed and bred you for breakfast, he’ll leave for work.

But before he goes, he’ll prop you with a chastity belt first.

The crotch is fixed with a dildo sculpted from his cock – keeping you company. After all, he doesn’t want you to miss him too much – and besides, he needs something to soothe his homesickness while on the job – and knowing you have his cum and cock stored within you while you do your chores, thinking of him as much as he thinks of you, is enough to put a small smile on his face.

He’ll play with what vibrations to give you through the app on his phone – customizing his own rhythm. He’s decided to teach you morse code with it – talking filthy things by tapping out dots and lines – telling you how much his cock aches to feel your tight pussy soak him, how much he can’t wait to come home and give you the real thing.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #yandere nanami x reader #yandere kento nanami #yandere kento #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #kento smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu nanami

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shotmrmiller · 6 days

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whenever simon needs a lay, he doesn't go for girls like you: all snarky attitude and self-assuredness in that hole-in-the-wall bar with the peeling wallpaper, dim lighting, and sagging ceiling tiles. he wants those insecure things; the soft, quiet ones who've been recently dumped and are drinking away their woes. the ones who'll take him to theirs in a drunken haze and wake up startled, kicking him out of the front door without their number and an embarrassed forget this ever happened.

can do, sweetheart. (see ya never.)

but you've caught his interest. maybe it was the way your face was bare— pockmarks on your cheeks and eyebrows untamed—yet you exuded confidence not even that loud bimbo with the fake lashes and vibrant ruby lipstick could ever recreate. maybe it was the way you held your own against that drunken man who attempted to grab a handful of arse over your faded, torn jeans, catching his pathetic bollocks and giving them a gnarly twist.

who knows. who cares.

what matters is that you've caught him by complete surprise.

he figured you were the type to want a firm hand. a couple of harsh slaps to your cheeks (both top and bottom), a fistful of your hair in his grip to pull, and to fuck you into the mattress until your body was imprinted on it.

wrong.

the moment he pulled your hair taut, you'd immediately tangled your clever fingers into his chest hair. "i'm no horse, brit. my hair isn't reins for you to lead me around with."

then he tried to bend you over his knee. proper brat like you needs to be put in'er place.

also wrong. "not that either. not yet anyway."

and then he's wrong a third time because you're no passive participant.

he sloppily eats your cunt like it's his first meal since coming back from urzikstan— warm tongue, thick fingers, and the occasional pinch of his crooked teeth on your swollen bundle of nerves. when he tries to pull away, your entrance more than slick enough to take him without much discomfort, you fervently dig your heels into the scarred tissue of his strong back., stopping him in his tracks.

"you stop 'til i finish and not a moment sooner." his whiskey breath is warm between your legs when he huffs out, "affirm." you're fluttering around his hand in minutes when you start to direct him on how you like it, which he supposes is fortunate for you since he's real good at taking orders and even better at obeying them.

your climax is sweet in his mouth with a subtle hint of brine. the exact opposite of you, he finds. simon doesn't even get the chance to tell you to say anything because you're flipping onto your knees and shoving his rigid length into your mouth. he can't help the strangled sound that escapes him when the tip of him touches the back of your throat, constricting when you gag.

bloody hell.

you look up at him; wide, glassy eyes and sunken cheeks and it's pathetic how he can already feel himself on the precipice of ecstasy and he hasn't even gotten to the good part.

when he watches you place a condom in your mouth and roll it on his cock without hands, simon had to squeeze his eyes shut and think of england to stop the fire that threatened to light him ablaze.

alrigh', enough. on your back.

"no. get on yours."

your small hands push against his barrel chest, gesturing he lie back— today preferably.

impatient bint.

you ignore that quip, opting to wrap your fingers around his thick base and sink onto him in one smooth motion.

slow, don't want ya hurtin' ya'self.

he gnaws on his tongue painfully— almost cutting it open with his canine— to keep from finishing because, bloody fuckin' hell, do you feel like the heaven he'll never see.

simon's hands curl and tighten around the swell of your hips— his blunt, square nails digging into your sensitive skin. "easy," you hiss, "i bruise like a peach."

taste like it, too.

you look so sweet, so pliant while being split open on his cock, hot cunt sodden with your earlier release— it sends mind-numbing arousal tingling up his spine, feeling it at the base of his skull. simon grunts when you begin to move, a languid up and down, gentle but firm. spots dance in his vision when you take all of him, his bollocks flush against your arse.

pretty thing with fire in your eyes taking him so well even though others have needed breaks to work up to it. muscle memory takes over then, his callused fingers automatically searching for your swollen clit, but you slap them away. "too sensitive, i'd only be uncomfortable."

yes ma'am.

you chuckle at that, pussy fluttering as you do and simon hisses through his clenched teeth.

keep tha' up 'nd i'll be done before the fun even starts.

this time you clamp down on purpose, your cunt squeezing his cock like a silken fist. "wouldn't that just be a shame. old man like yourself only got one in you?" the playful taunt sinks its teeth into the ego he's never cared about— leaving behind a mark that stings and lingers— and the lieutenant rears his head, if only for a moment.

watch it.

your eyes widen fractionally but your lips curl at the corners in amusement. "sorry, sir." minx.

his thoughts dissolve like sugar in hot tea once your hips began to rise and fall again, this time a much quicker pace. he surrenders to your unsatiable passion-- a hungry beast, feeding on want, on need-- with only his obsidian-black mask as witness.

for the first time in months (since price bent him over his desk post-op that one time) he's the one getting fucked.

and when you plant your feet by his sides, when your hips cant at the slightest of angles, his flared head presses against something firm and his world ceases to exist, the intensity of now reaching its peak.

when he comes to, your sweat-slick body trembles with effort, your pretty cunt still stuffed to the brim with his softening length. but he's not done with you yet, not by a long shot. now it's his turn.

in a quick movement, you find yourself on your back, looking up at simon, and the mewl that falls from your lips bounces off of the spartan white walls when he hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, and claims you again.

he plans on leaving a delicious ache between your legs that won't let you forget this night-- at least not for the next few days. (not like you could, i mean look at him. plus, he's going to magically forget his gloves here, maybe his pack of cigarettes. he's also definitely jotting down his phone number somewhere.)

forgive me i'm tired now so i lost some air at the end hehehe

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon riley smut

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rawrsatthetree · 1 month

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I think one of Astarion’s ways of showing that he cares is making sure Tav is fully fed at all times.

Before he’s willing to admit his feeling for them, he tells himself that if they’re well fed that’s more blood they can feed him or they can’t protect him if they’re starving.

At meals he’ll push past everyone to make sure Tav gets plenty of food before anyone else.

He’ll sneak extra snacks into their pack.

He pays attention to what they like and makes sure to take it from the camp supplies and hides it in his tent. He also makes sure to look for it while they’re out exploring as well.

Living things need proper nutrients, so he always makes sure Tav gets the fruits and vegetables they find over anyone else.

If there’s a meat they particularly like he’ll be sure to hunt it and bring the bloodless corpse back to camp.

He’s the first to notice if they loose any weight or to spot any signs of hunger. He hates how it makes his gut twist with worry.

The threat of starvation always feels just around the corner, he needs to make sure they eat as much as they can while they still can.

And if this causes them to gain weight all the better! He loves the physical reminder they’re well fed and how they feel softer and warmer in his arms.

He never wants Tav to feel hunger like he has.

This is something that doesn’t change if he ascends. His Consort will always have to best blood and wine available, they’ll never feel the pains of vampiric hunger. What would be the point of all that power if he couldn’t even satisfy his favorite’s needs even if he has to force feed them.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #tavstarion #astarion headcanons #astarion imagine #bg3 headcanons #baldurs gate 3 headcanons #cw food #cw weight #cw eating

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vinnie2757 · 1 year

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Getting bored of cooking the same five meals over and over again so looking at recipe sites for easy meals for two and they're all like

Ox cheek Wellington's! Chicken stuffed with marscapone! Bullshit you haven't got time or inclination to cook!

I want easy recipes that aren't going to be shit mate, not a fucking restaurant meal I don't want to pay for

#listen theres only so long you can live off spag bol chili and curry with occasional Mediterranean chicken thrown in the mix #weve exhausted the struggle meal menus now we gotta try and actually cook food again #i need a healthy diet and he needs to eat proper food #but fuck if i can be assed to cook when i come home

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theostrophywife · 6 months

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le coup de foudre.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: my love mine all mine by mitski.

author's note: this was a result of me binging dune and call me by your name. whoever fancasted timothee chalamet as regulus deserves a forehead kith cause look at him. he's so boyfriend coded it makes me sick.

Regulus Black did not believe in love at first sight.

It was a foolish notion. One that contradicted his pragmatic beliefs. At his core, Regulus was a realist. In his world, love was not a luxury one could afford. Regulus was raised with the expectation to marry according to class, wealth, and most importantly, blood status. The noble and most ancient house of Black only took the purest of the pure.

After all, toujours pur, always pure, has been his family’s motto for centuries. There has never been any doubt in his mind that he’d marry another member of the sacred twenty eight. It wasn’t a matter of if, only a question of when.

During his sixth year, his mother made her intentions very clear. Walburga Black was adamant that he begin his search for a suitable bride. Leave it to his mother to compose a list of ladies she deemed suitable to become the future Mrs. Black. Regulus was to adhere to the carefully curated roster. They were names that he’d seen a million times before. Greengrass, Prewett, Rosier. Girls he’d grown up with and inadvertently had absolutely no interest in.

Still, his mother was insistent so Regulus complied. He took the girls out on dates. The formula was rather simple: dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town followed by a walk around the city square in which he offered to buy his date a dessert like the proper gentleman his mother raised him to be. Despite the fact that Regulus had the entire process down to a science, the dates were always unsatisfactory.

He was polite, of course. Opened the door, pulled out their chair, asked the appropriate level of questions to get to know his counterpart, but by the time the appetizers arrived, Regulus was on the verge of stabbing himself with the butter knife just to rouse himself from boredom.

Regulus placed no blame on the girls. They were only doing what their families had raised them to do. Sit pretty, chew gracefully, agree with his opinions. All while wearing breakneck heels and a smile to boot. It was all terribly fucked up, but this was the world they lived in.

The more he went on these dates, the more he realized that he didn’t want some pretty, docile wife. What he truly needed was someone who was willing to challenge him, to call him out on his bullshit, to argue with him when his own stubbornness prevented him from seeing reason. Regulus came to the horrible, earth-shattering realization that he probably wouldn’t find a woman like that on his mother’s list.

As he walked back from another mind numbing date, Regulus grappled with this newfound dilemma. He didn’t want to endure another one of these disastrous dates. He didn’t want to sit through an entire meal making small talk. He definitely didn’t want to disappoint another girl by not kissing them at the end of the night.

It wasn’t like any of them liked him anyways. Though they loved the idea of Regulus Black, he was quite certain that they wouldn’t afford the same affections to Reggie—the real and true version of himself. The one that Sirius often said Regulus kept in a neatly locked cage.

He wished he could be more like his brother. Sirius had always been the brave one. It was that infamous Gryffindor boldness that prompted his older brother to rebel against his family’s expectations. Instead of heeding to their mother’s ridiculous list, Sirius chose to date Remus in open defiance to Walburga’s orders. It resulted in him getting kicked out of 12 Grimmauld Place and burned off the family portrait, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind one bit.

In a lot of ways, Regulus envied his brother. Sirius had the guts to stand up for himself. He wasn’t burdened by the crippling pressure of pleasing their mother. In all honesty, Reggie wondered if such a thing was even achievable. As he brooded, Regulus found himself on the shores of the Black Lake. His body had taken him here on autopilot. It was his only place of refuge in the castle.

Regulus paced the rickety wooden dock. His mind was working so fast, so many thoughts spinning in his head, that it felt like he might work himself up to a fit. This has always been his problem. Sirius often said that he lived in his head too much. He frowned, trying and failing to get ahold of himself. For once, he wished he could just shut his brain off entirely.

Just then, Regulus felt a drop of water hit his head. He looked up and found dark, gray clouds hovering over the horizon. The stormcloud broke open and unleashed torrential rain all around him. Fucking fantastic. The world truly couldn’t give him a bloody break, could it?

With a sigh, Regulus began making his way back. The ground was sodden underneath his feet, his boots sinking into the sand and dragging behind his black coat. The waves lapped violently across the shore as the wind lashed against the murky waters. Regulus was almost at the edge of the beach when he spotted you.

A flash of movement from the corner of his eye. Regulus stopped dead in his tracks. There, at the mouth of the Black Lake, in the middle of the pouring rain, stood a girl with the most breathtaking smile he had ever seen.

Regulus was fairly certain that you had History of Magic together. He sat behind you in class, passed by you in the halls, even reached for the same book in the forbidden section of the library once, but Reggie had never once seen that smile. The gravity of it threatened to knock the very breath from his lungs.

There was something carefree about you. The way you spread your arms, tilted your head back, and laughed in the midst of the rain and thunder. Almost like you were welcoming the storm.

It was only when your eyes locked that Regulus realized he was staring. You cocked your head at him, trailing your gaze from the curls plastered against his cheek to the nice button down and freshly pressed trousers that were now soaked from the rain, down to the shiny leather boots that were now digging into the sand. You seemed amused at the sight of him.

Ever the perfect gentleman, Regulus snapped out of his daze and jogged over to you. Without hesitation, he raised his coat over your head to shield you from the rain even though you were already both drenched.

“What are you doing out in the rain?” Regulus asked, his voice full of genuine concern. “You’ll catch a cold.”

You stepped out of the refuge of his expensive looking coat and held your hand out, catching droplets in your palm. “I don’t mind. I just…I just needed to feel the rain on my skin, that’s all.”

You supposed it must’ve seemed strange to him, but the rain always made you feel better. Lately, life had been just a little too overwhelming. There was so much pressure to do well in classes, to hang out with friends while balancing your clubs and sports, as well as making time to write back to your parents. When it all became a bit too much, you tended to come to the Black Lake for some sort of refuge. The rain was just an added bonus.

If Regulus found your behavior bizarre, he didn’t say. Instead, he just smiled softly. “Well, you got your wish. It’s soaked out here.”

“I know,” you responded with an enthusiastic nod. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Standing out in the pouring rain? On a beach where lightning can strike me down at any second? Yes, it’s absolutely splendid.”

Your mouth quirked in amusement. “No one’s telling you to stay out here.” You nodded towards the castle. “You’re more than welcome to take your brooding inside where it’s warm and dry. Not to mention, free of the dangers of lightning strikes, which are extremely rare by the way.”

“With my luck, I might be the poor one in a million git who gets torched while getting insulted by a pretty girl.”

“Did I insult you?’ you quipped back. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You accused me of brooding.”

“I didn’t accuse, I stated. Even the Wizengamot would have to rule that you were, in fact, brooding.”

Regulus raised a brow. “What happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

“Unfortunately, the evidence is overwhelming and the verdict is set. You, Regulus Black, have been sentenced for glaring at the Black Lake so menacingly that even the giant squid refuses to come to shore. Off to Azkaban you go.”

“Do you promise to write me letters? Update me of how the world’s progressed without my dazzling presence?”

“It would be my genuine pleasure.”

Regulus chuckled at your dry humor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bantered like this with anyone, much less with a strange not-so-stranger. You sat down on the wet sand and patted the spot beside you with a grin.

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell me all about your troubles.”

Beyond the bleak horizon, the spires of the castle peeked through the gray clouds. Regulus thought of the common room where his housemates would no doubt be gathered around the ornate fireplace for warmth. Knowing his friends, they’d probably be indulging in spiked hot chocolate and playing some childish drinking game. A few minutes ago, nothing appealed to him more, but now Regulus found himself choosing the violent rain and soggy sand. All because of you, his mystery girl.

You leaned back on your elbows and cocked your head at him. “What ails you, Mr. Black?”

“That depends. How much do you bill per hour?”

“Fortunately for you, I’m in a generous mood so I’ll throw in a free session. Consider it my pro-bono work.”

“How kind of you,” Regulus said with a serious expression. “My brother’s been nagging me to see a mind healer for years. All that childhood trauma, you know.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, revealing a set of dimples that he found rather charming. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“My brother is Sirius. I’m Regulus, remember?”

You snorted in a very unladylike manner, which only made Regulus grin. There was something so unapologetically you in your laugh that was absolutely endearing to him. Regulus smiled and knocked his shoulder against yours.

You mimicked the action and smiled back at him. “All sarcasm aside, I was being genuine. If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

"Do you often offer therapy sessions to complete strangers?"

"Only to surly Slytherins with sad eyes and pretty curls," you quipped back. "And we're not strangers. I sit behind you in potions. We're practically best mates."

"You think my curls are pretty?"

"Like a little cherub's. Are you quite sure you haven't escaped from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? You look like one of Michelangelo's angels. Except with way more scowling." Regulus grinned. He got the feeling that you always said whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. It was refreshing. "There's a smile. See? Our session is already progressing."

"I think you might get more than you bargained for with me, I'm afraid."

You met the challenge in his words head on. "Try me."

“You were right. I’m definitely guilty of brooding.”

“What happened?”

Regulus hesitated for a moment. He had never been the type of person to be candid with his feelings, especially not with someone he barely knew. Usually, he just kept his thoughts to himself and ruminated on them in the privacy of his dorm until he drove himself mad by overthinking, but your presence brought him an unexplainable ease. For once in his life, Regulus chose not to question it.

“I’ve had a long night,” he said, tucking his knees up to his chest. “I just got back from a date.”

“It didn’t go well?”

“It was…fine. It’s always fine. But it’s the same thing over and over again, just with a different girl.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a playboy, Regulus Black.”

Regulus chuckled. “I’m not some unscrupulous rake, I assure you.”

“Yes, that much is obvious from your use of the word unscrupulous.” You tucked your legs underneath you. “So why go on all of these dates if you find them so tedious?”

“It’s my mother,” Regulus explained. “She has this list.”

“A list?”

“Yes, a list of girls that I’m to court. Noble, pureblooded, proper ladies of society that my mother has deemed worthy of marriage.”

“You’re seventeen years old. Shouldn’t you be worrying about quidditch games and potions exams?”

Regulus nodded. “Yes, one would think. But my family has always been different. Since my brother left, my parents have been obsessed with grooming me into becoming the perfect heir.”

“How do you feel about that?”

He sighed. “Stifled. Exhausted. Smothered. I can feel the weight of their expectations weighing me down every second of every day.”

“I’m sorry, Regulus. That’s a terrible burden to carry.”

Regulus shrugged. “Others have it worse.”

“It doesn’t mean that your problem is any less heavy.”

To Regulus, the acknowledgement felt oddly validating. Even though you knew nothing of his circumstance, there was wisdom in your words and you delivered it delicately, like you actually cared to hear his troubles. You were devoid of the judgment he'd grown accustomed to and he found that rather freeing.

“It’s just…sometimes I think that I’ll never be the perfect son. My brother, he’s always been the brave one. Classic Gryffindor,” he said with an eye roll. You chuckled, but stayed silent. It was obvious that Regulus had a myriad of thoughts to unpack tonight and you were more than happy to just listen. “Sirius has never cared what anyone thought about him, least of all our parents. I admire that about him, but I just don’t think I’m wired that way. I care too much.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” you said softly. “Apathy is so common nowadays, finding someone who can admit that they care is refreshing. Though, I think it’s not without limits. You can’t please everyone. No matter what you do, someone is going to have something to complain about. You might as well be yourself.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Regulus pondered. “All of these girls on my mother's list, I think they like the idea of Regulus Black, but he’s an illusion. It isn’t the real me.”

“Then who is the real you?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’m just Reggie. I like playing quidditch and reading depressing literature and memorizing obscure history facts. I hate messy rooms and orange juice and anything that crawls.”

You smiled. “And what kind of girl does Reggie like?”

“Someone witty. Someone funny. Someone who’ll argue with me. Someone who doesn’t just nod and agree with everything I say."

"So what you're saying is that you don't want a nice girl?"

Regulus shook his head. "No, I think I need someone who challenges me. Who sees me for who I am rather than what I represent. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the girls on my mother’s list are lovely, but I don’t think they’d actually like me if they knew who I really am.”

“I don’t know, Reggie seems like a great guy. That Regulus bloke, on the other hand…” you scrunched your nose in disapproval.

“Hey!” Regulus chided, “I’m pouring my heart out to you. That took a lot of courage, you know.”

“You’re very brave, Reggie,” you said with a grin. “But you know what would be even braver?”

Regulus squinted in the rain as you stood to your feet. Lightning crackled over the horizon, illuminating you with an ethereal silver glow. You held out your hand to him. “Come dance with me.”

“Deathly afraid of being struck by lightning, remember?”

“Sorry, what?” You asked as you shimmied around him. It wasn’t graceful by any means. It was the goofiest thing he’d ever seen and yet he’d never been so enthralled. You danced without a care in the world and it made him genuinely laugh. “I can’t hear you over all the fun I’m having.”

"This is ridiculous," he said over the roaring thunder.

You shrugged. "Perhaps. But everyone's allowed to be a little ridiculous sometimes. Besides, I was asking Reggie not Regulus."

“Are you really trying to peer pressure me into dancing with you?”

“That depends,” you replied with a cheeky smile. “Is it working?”

Regulus conceded with a sigh and leapt to his feet. The youngest Black brother bowed like a proper gentleman. “May I have this dance, my lady?"

“You may, good sir.”

You grinned up at him as he took you by the waist and waltzed with you across the sand. Surprisingly, Regulus let you take the lead. He chuckled when you stepped on his toes and laughed even harder when you tried to twirl him. Towering a good foot over you, Regulus had to fully crouch for the maneuver to work.

Finally, you gave up the formality and just spun around in dizzying circles. There was absolutely no rhyme or rhythm to it. Just two idiots dancing in the rain with the biggest smiles on their faces.

Your coordination, or lack thereof, caused you to almost faceplant into the sand. Regulus yelped as you took him down with you. By the time you recovered from the laughing fit, the two of you were red-faced, out of breath, and laying side by side along the shore. He turned over to you and brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“See? There’s more to life than just being moody and melancholic.”

“So this mystery girl of mine keeps reminding me,” Regulus said with a smile. “You never told me your name, by the way.”

“Wow, you don’t even know my name? I’m offended, Reggie. We’ve only been in classes together since fifth year.”

“I—we’ve never been introduced—”

You broke out into a smile and giggled. You thought it was cute that Reggie was so easily flustered. “I’m just kidding, Reggie.”

He sighed in relief as you stuck out your hand. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

Regulus slipped his hand into yours. He cocked his head, studying your eyes and your smile and those cute little dimples.

Y/N. The last name on his mother’s list. The one he saved for last because he didn’t know who she was.

The French had a saying—le coup de foudre. The infamous phrase translated to a bolt of lightning or love at first sight. Regulus had long dismissed it as flowery prose, but thanks to his mystery girl, he started to think that maybe the Parisians were onto something because meeting you tonight felt preordained. A date with fate. Like a bolt of lightning streaking through his dark, endless skies.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Reggie.”

Regulus smiled and laced your fingers together. He was frozen, it was raining, and he was fairly certain that you were both probably going to catch a cold, but he didn’t care. In that moment, as he stared up at the sky, blinking back the rain, and intertwining his fingers with yours, Regulus had never felt more content.

So no, Regulus did not believe in love at first sight, but love at second, third, and even fourth glance? He smiled a little as he gazed back at you, letting his gaze linger as he drank in that infectious laugh and sunny grin.

You made him think that maybe, just maybe, a girl like you could convert a skeptic like him into a devout believer.

#ok but when can i run my fingers through reggie's curls hm? when is it my turn to be happy?#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black fic #the marauders #the marauders era

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frantic-fiction · 2 months

Text

Tension 18+

Pic: littlelovelore

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: During a solo mission, Astarion takes the opportunity to indulge in some "depraved carnal lust".

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Slight enemies to lovers, sex bent over a desk, sex with clothes on, mild choking, rough sex, reader handles her crush like a fifth grader (by being mean) Astarion is his smug self

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Back-to-back posts brought to you by Bree's insomnia...Enjoy!

"Do you want me to do it?" Astarion smugly asks, flicking his wrist sharply, sending a dagger into the wood beam before him. He's leaning against the cracked wall of the tunnel. A condescending smile stretches across his pale lips.

"Shut the fuck up!" You snap, twisting the lockpick violently, it's stuck on something, and it is pissing you off.

"My my, someone's testy today." The Vampire pushes off the wall to retrieve his dagger, only for you to hear the same thud of the knife hitting the abused beam once again.

You clench your jaw, wanting nothing more than to drown the bastard in the small stream of gray water. See him try to be a smartass when he's choking on sewage.

No! Just breathe.

As soon as you get this damn door open, all you need is to grab the stolen lease for the damn butcher, and the party will have a nice payout. Then Astarion's snarky comments and teasing jabs can be ignored behind a glass of ale and a nice meal.

Well, if you don't kill him first.

The relationship between you and the Vampire is a complex one, to say the least. Astarion is an arrogant, pompous dick. You're a temperamental stubborn asshole. It made for a messy mix of harsh insults and constant attempts to belittle the other.

It would have been so easy to hate him completely, but Astarion can be sweet under the cloak of night, and you could almost pretend he's a tolerable person when he speaks those honey-coated words. And when you let him feed from you, everything became so much more complicated.

The pick snaps, and you drop your head, groaning in frustration. You stand up and kick hard against a crate; the decayed wood breaks against your boot. Sighing in defeat, you motion to the rogue.

Astarion laughs smoothly, tucking the knife away, and exchanges it for his thieves' tools. Giving you a wink, he bends down to examine the lock. You pretend not to admire the swell of his ass, but who are you kidding Astarion is extremely attractive.

With little to no fanfare, the lock turns over, and Astarion opens the door. "After you."

"I fucking hate you." You grumble, pushing past, making a point to shove your shoulder hard into the rouge.

"Keep telling yourself that Darling,"

You flip him off.

The sewer system is a winding path of tunnels leading to various places. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Are you sure we are going the right way?" Astarion asks, breaking the peace.

"Of course, this is the right way." You hiss, glaring over your shoulder. "I can read a map."

"Just like you could pick a lock, yes?"

You don't think you've ever seen a more punchable face. You're almost tempted to smack him just to see his reaction. Instead, you practice a semblance of self-control and ignore him.

After a few more turns, you hit a dead end. It's nothing but a damp brick wall. Scanning the map, you're sure you followed all the proper steps; there should be an entrance. Stowing the stupid paper away, you begin feeling the brick for any invisible button, unwilling to admit defeat in front of Astarion. All hideouts have secret levers. Right?

"Well, sweetheart, I think you've gotten us lost."

"No, I didn't, jackass, now be useful for once and help me." You bend down and begin trailing your fingertips against the rough bricks near the floor.

"I don't think I will. I'm quite enjoying the view from here."

You look back towards the rogue, "What are you talking about–" you choke on your words.

Astarion is shamelessly eyeing your form. A fang tugs at his bottom lip, hunger darkening his eyes. You swallow hard, and a flame ignites low in your stomach. You have a sudden urge to press him against the wall. That thought startles you. This is Astarion. The obnoxious, arrogant, attractive–no, stop that. You stand up and shake your head, willing your thoughts to clear.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh and dig through your bag.

Retrieving the knock scroll, Gale scribed for you. Repeating the steps he told you to do, you mumbled the incantation, and soon enough, what was once a solid brick wall cracked open to reveal a hidden path.

"Told you I knew where I was going," you boast, sticking your tongue out childishly.

Astarion smirks, "Yes, a broken clock is right twice a day."

Scoffing, you shove him hard, causing him to take a few steps to correct his footing. The entrance leads to a broken-down ladder and a worn wooden hatch. Astarion steps up to pick the lock and lifts the hatch barely to survey the room. He pushes the trapdoor open and enters.

Following suit, you find yourself in a dusty broom closet. Astarion is already at the door to the hallway, a sliver of light pouring through the crack. Closing the trapdoor, you cross your arms and wait for Astarion to turn back to you.

"It's abandoned."

"Are you sure?"

Scoffing, Astarion doesn't answer. He pushes the door open and begins down the hall. You follow after him.

The small hideout is plainly decorated, the common room has a dingy sofa and a coffee table. The fireplace is dead; not even embers remain. Good. In the corner, there looks to be an unfinished game of cards. The faded carpet runner leads down the hall to a large ornate door.

Astarion is already opening the door by the time you reach him. By the looks of it, this is the boss's office. A large oak desk sat in the middle room. A plush chair pulled slightly away as if someone hadn't bothered to move it back. Bookshelves line the back wall.

"Secure the door," you say as you move to the window to the left of the door. You hear Astarion mumble something but don't quite catch his words.

The window is a short drop good for a quick escape if needed.

You move to the desk and begin rifling through the papers on the desk. Tax documents, random notes, crappy doodles, and a cringey love letter, but not what you're looking for. You rip open the first drawer. Nothing. Second drawer. Nothing. Third, nothing.

"Astarion, did you find anything?"

"Nothing important." His sultry voice is deep and so very close to your ear.

Your heart drops, but you suppress any other signs of distress, knowing that is exactly what he's looking for. Sighing In annoyance, you turn around to face Astarion and cross your arms over your chest.

"Are you even trying to look for the damn paper? We need to get what we're here for and get the fuck out!"

Astarion's mouth cracks into a cheeky grin, and he closes in on you. You back against the desk instinctually, reaching a hand up that lands on his firm chest. Astarion has you caged against the desk, each hand on either side of your hips. You know Astarion can hear the thrumming of your heart and the shaky inhalation of your breath, and you curse your body for betraying you.

He bends his head down to press his mouth against your ear. "What if I'm looking for something else?"

You freeze. What did he mea–

The thought is forgotten because he's slamming his lips onto yours. You gasp in surprise, and Astarion wastes no time, delving his tongue into your mouth and claiming it as his.

The slight metallic taste of blood that lingers on his tongue should repulse you but has you moaning desperately for more. You grip your fist tightly into the fabric of Astarion's armor. His body is flush against yours, but you need more. You scratch your nails up his neck and tangle your fingers into his hair. Astarion groans into your mouth, biting at your bottom lip.

Everything is hazy, and you're lost in the kiss. Your thoughts are slow to catch up with the situation, too consumed by the taste of his lips. Astarion's lips. Astarion.

You push him away, chest heaving in rapid breaths. "What are you doing?"

"I'd hope my intentions would be obvious by now." He grins and dives back to kiss down your neck, dragging his teeth against your skin. "I could be more obvious if that would clear things up."

A sharp bite of his mouth at your throat drags a choked gargle from your swollen lips. You feel dizzy from the scent of rosemary and bergamot invading your nose. Lightheaded from the sudden turn of events. Astarion presses a knee between your legs, applying firm pressure against your burning arousal.

Gods, what was he doing to you?

Needing to gain any form of control, you tug sharply at the roots of his silver curls, drawing a hiss from the man.

You finally manage to gasp out, "We hate each other." As if that would somehow clear up your raging thoughts.

Except, could you hate someone who is making you feel so good?

Cold fingers trail against the skin between your leather armor and trousers. Astarion's deft hands start pulling at the lace of your pants. Another wave of arousal warms your body, and you feel drunk on the pale elf.

"You say that, yet I don't think you want me to stop." He purrs, halting his movements, and meets your eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head, desperate for more. Your dignity couldn't live with letting Astarion reduce you to a begging mess. However, if you were honest with yourself, you're already halfway there. Reaching out, you grab for his belt.

Astarion was having none of that. He's quick to twirl you around and press your torso flush against the top of the desk. A stack of paper flies off and scatters to the ground, but neither of you put much care into it. Astarion grinds his front roughly against your ass, and you moan at the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

"No, no, no, my dear, use your words."

"Gods, are you always so fucking annoying?" You whine pressing back and rolling your ass against him. Astarion grunts, gripping your hips tightly. "Are you going to fuck me, or should I just take care of myself?"

Astarion groans, rocking against each roll of your hips. "There's my spitfire."

"I'm not yours."

Astarion tugs at your pants and underwear, pulling them over your rear and letting them pool around your ankles. You kick off your boots and free yourself, leaving your lower half bare to the open air. A shiver rushes up your spine as the cold air hits your dripping heat.

Astarion's slim fingers trail down your folds, and you bite your lips to stifle a cry. Tilting your head back, you see the rogue admiring the slick coating his fingers.

"You might not be mine, darling." Astarion slips his drenched fingers into his mouth, and you watch, mouth agape, as he swirls his tongue to clean each digit. "But who else has seen you bent over a desk looking as desperate and delicious as you do now?"

"I could name a few," you say cheekily, earning you a smack on the flesh of your backside.

Astarion gropes the reddened skin and bends down, blanketing you with his body. You feel the soft pants of his breath cascade over your neck as Astarion brings his lips to your ear.

"Then it seems I'm just going to have to ruin you for anyone else." Astarion practically growls and licks along the shell of your ear before taking the lobe in between his mouth and teasing it with his teeth. You don't recall hearing Astarion unclasp his belt, but when you feel his bare cock rub against your back, all you can do is arch your back and moan.

"Astarion," you part your legs more in silent invitation.

"Yes, my dear," His voice is smug as he rocks against you. He knows what you want but wants to hear you say it.

The head of his cock parts your folds and moves to tease your desperate clit; a collective moan fills the room, but it is not enough for either of you. And knowing that the two of you are currently in the middle of dangerous territory means there is no time to play.

"Stop being a prick and fuck me."

"Have I ever told you, you always have such a way with words." Astarion chuckles before plunging deep into your cunt.

A shaky cry leaves your lips, all air seemingly ripped from your lungs. Astarion is bigger than most men you've slept with prior - though you wouldn't dare voice that out loud in case it inflates his already-inflated ego. The stretch holds a delicious sting, and you feel the beginning of the burn of tears at the corner of your eyes.

Astarion's still his hips for a moment, letting you collect yourself. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back and peppering kisses across your neck. Once the sting of his initial entrance simmers to a stirring heat, you tell him to move.

"Hells you're so tight." Astarion groans as he sets a teasing pace, dragging the rugged ridges of his cock out before plunging back in at the same agonizing pace.

A pace you could imagine sharing intimately with Astarion all night somewhere secluded. Perhaps your tent or an isolated clearing, not a random gang's currently empty hideout. And since you're not one to play nice, you decide to play with fire instead.

Pushing up on your elbows, you move your head to look back at Astarion, a playful smirk on your lips. "You say you're going to ruin me, but I think Gale could be doing a better job of it right now."

Astarion's body freezes just as you hoped he would react. He shoots you a look full of daggers and bares his teeth in annoyance. Without comprehending entirely what's happening, Astarion pulls out of you and, with a strength you have not seen from the Vampire (the same Vampire who asks others on multiple occasions to carry his pack because it's too heavy), flips you over and has you seated firmly back on the desk leaving you dizzy but feeling giddy as a schoolgirl.

"Oh darling, you're going to regret that."

Astarion rams back into your pussy and begins to thrust quick and brutally deep into your body. His cold hand is wrapped around your throat, holding it firmly enough to keep your eyes locked onto him.

Your legs link around his lean hips, pulling him deeper into you. Moaning desperately, you run one of your hands up under his leather armor, splaying it across his stomach. You grab his face and pull him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth and perfection.

The desk is groaning under the movement of your bodies. Random knick-knacks are clanging to the floor. A bottle of whiskey shatters, and the pungent aroma wafts into the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and slick.

"You and that mouth of yours." He breathes deep into your ear. "Always so confident, so snarky, so bratty."

"M-more…" you choke, clenching around his length, desperate for anything and everything he will give you.

"Do you think the wizard could handle you?" The hand not firmly holding your neck snakes between your legs and begins to play with your clit.

"Gods A-star.." You gasp, eyes rolling back.

"Could he or anyone else make you feel this good?" Astarion's hand tightens slightly against your neck, and the lack of oxygen leaves you feeling dizzy and euphoric.

"N-no…please."

"After me, no one will ever be able to satisfy you." His thumb is now rubbing fast, tight circles against your clit. "Fuck, that's it, squeeze me just like that."

Gripping onto the desk, you shift your hips, and Astarion is now hitting deeper into your abused cunt. You tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to go faster. That delicious coil is beginning to burn deep in your stomach, and you know you won't last much longer.

"Tell me, who's making you feel this good," Astarion demands, voice husky.

"Y-you,"

"And when you come on my cock, I want you to scream my name." He grunts, and the thrust of his hips is beginning to become sloppier. "I want to hear just how good I make you feel."

Everything is too much. Astarion's sinful words, the harsh thrust of his hips combined with the tight circles of his thumb on your clit, the musky smell of Astarion's sweat mingling with yours, and the intense fragrance of the spilled whiskey.

You don't remember the details, just the wave of euphoria as the coil snaps and your orgasm washes over you. The words that spill from your lips hold no meaning in your clouded mind. The only thing that holds context is the feeling of Astarion stuttering thrusts of his hips as he chases his release from your spent body.

And when he stills, and the world falls silent apart for your combined pants of breath, all you do is brush the curls off his forehead and kiss his cheek. Why? You're not sure, but that's something you'll ask yourself later.

Once you return to relatively normal breathing, Astarion moves from his slumped position against your body. He stares at you in astonishment.

"Well, that happened." You offer because what else were you supposed to say?

Astarion breaks out into a genuine laugh, full belly and joyful as he tucks himself away. You couldn't help but join in as you move to put your clothes on.

"Yes, my sweet, I suppose that did happen."

"So where-"

The two of you jump at a commotion coming from the hall. Someone is jingling the doorknob, trying to open it; when it doesn't budge, there is a loud bang followed by an even louder shout of anger.

"Fuck!" You quickly finish tying your boots and collect your gear.

"Seems like our friends are back from their trip. I believe it's time to go." Astarion says as he moves to the window and opens it. Without waiting for you to respond, he gives you a devilish smirk and jumps out.

"Shit, the paper." You sigh, knowing you'll never hear the end of it.

By the time you make it to the window, the door is being busted in, and a very angry-looking dwarf is storming into the room. You smile at him and give him a salute before diving out the window, knowing Astarion will be there to catch you.

***Later at camp***

"What do you mean you didn't get the document?" Gale yells, the others equally baffled by you and Astarion's failure. "That was the only thing you needed to get!"

You shrink in on yourself looking to Astarion for help. "I...I don"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Stealing objects from heavily populated hideouts is harder than you might think, wizard."

"That's why we sent you two!"

"Then perhaps next time-"

"HOLY SHIT!" Karlach interrupts, drawing everyone's attention. She's pointing straight at you with a look of bafflement. "Soldier's got a fucking hickey."

You clamp a hand over the spot Astarion was biting at earlier, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.

Shadowheart's face scrunches up in disgust. "Please don't tell me, we're not getting paid because you two idiots decided to fuck?"

"Darling, it would seem the cat's out of the bag." The bastard has the audacity to look proud.

"I hate you all." You groan and storm off to your tent, contemplating just how bad it would be to join the Absolute.

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