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#i’m sorry for sporadic posts

robertdowneyjjr · 2 years

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tag game

thx @meidui 💖

tag ten five people you want to know better: @mkes @docdracula @arabellamonkey @imperialstark @downeylove (i know u v well already but ily)

relationship status: currently single!

favorite food: hmm i don’t particularly have a favorite food but my favorite cuisine is japanese

song stuck in my head: you know what for once there isn’t anything stuck in my head

the last thing i googled: 350f to c. i was making spinach artichoke dip 😌

time: 11:54pm

dream trip: changes all the time and especially now since i haven’t traveled in 2+ years bc of covid, i feel like i want to go everywhere. but i guess off the top of my head i wanna go all around italy for like two months and just eat and eat and eat.

something i want: for my midterms to write themselves

#anyway sorry in advance @ followers i will be v sporadic with posts for the next few weeks #(i.e. finishing prompts and posting new ideas/fics/headcanons and whatnot)#midterms + work trip so i’ll be hella busy #but once i’m back for 7day quarantine y’all best be sure i’ll be just living on this hellsite #tag meme

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rs-hawk · 3 months

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Going INSANE thinking about this post by @curiousmons :

So here we go!!

Your Centaur Boyfriend being embarrassed when he explains he’s never cum before because he can’t reach “down there”. You’re stunned and ask why he hasn’t told you before. You tell him you’d have at least given him a handjob before now so he could get some release! He sheepishly tells you that he almost didn’t tell you at all because he’s worried he won’t last long and he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

After a soft heart to heart session, you explain that even if he doesn’t last long, at least you’ll be doing it together so it’ll be wonderful. The kissing starts off slow and soft with him stooping down and you on your tiptoes. Then him pulling off your shirt, and you eagerly finishing undressing yourself when he hesitates. He eases you onto your back on the soft (but itchy, not that you’d tell him) hay he made into a bed for you. His front legs are tucked under him as he goes back to kissing you, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly.

Despite never having been with anyone before, he knows that his massive cock would hurt you if you’re not prepped, which is another reason you two had waited for so long. Now you could easily take his fingers, and you were already soaking wet for him. His cock is so hard that he’s already leaking precum and it’s almost painful. He wants to be inside of you so badly.

“Please,” you whisper, breaking the kiss to look up at him.

He bites his lip before nodding slightly. He stands back up and you adjust, pushing yourself into doggy style so it’s easier for him to push into you. You have to help guide him a bit since you have to be so far under him, but as soon as the tip of his cock is pushed inside of you, he starts going crazy.

He jerks his hips towards you, nearly impaling you with his massive cock in one thrust. You yelp, not expecting that sudden and deep of a movement, but you don’t pull away.

“I’m sorry baby. You feel so good. I’m sorry,” he groans as he continues to slam in and out of you, driving you into the floor.

His cock slams deep inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way. He bullies your cervix in a way you never thought possible, his hot and slick precum already coating your womb. You whimper, trying to find something to hold onto. When you start to squirm, he uses his front hooves to keep you in place, setting them lightly on you, of course not his full weight, just so he can continue to cram himself into you.

Once he’s close, his thrusting becomes more sporadic. He thrusts roughly and sloppily, almost pulling out in his haste to push back inside of you. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, every thick inch of that cock stretching you out even more as he already was.

“You’re so good baby. So tight. So wet,” he whines, picking up the pace even more.

“Keep going,” is all you can manage to get out between the rough assaults on your body.

He complies until he crams himself as deeply as he can inside of you, pumping you full of hot, thick ropes of cum. You can feel it filling you, extending your stomach and spilling out onto your thighs and the floor under you even as he’s still deep inside of you.

His front legs tremble before he buckles them, pulling them off of you so he can support himself on them. You can hear his deep breathing and panting as he recovers, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

“That was amazing baby,” you sigh, almost dreamily, before you try to wiggle out from under him.

However, he’s already rutting into you, grinding his hips against yours with his cock still buried inside of you. “Just one more baby. Please please let me do it just one more time.”

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marlenesluv · 7 months

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Stress Relief. (OP)

summary: oscar has had a rough day at the track, but he comes home to his girlfriend to help him destress.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (dating)

warnings: smut, 18+ only, mdni!, oral (fem!receiving), fingering

note: first smut on here! kinda random but i just had a thought and wanted to make a little thing blurb. i know it's kinda short, i'll write something else soon with more plot, lol. i hope it's decent :/

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

Qualifying day was always something that you attended. Showing up with Oscar, holding hands through the paddock, talking with his engineers, but you had an unfortunate amount of work to get done. Being a personal assistant for the head of a business firm was fun, in theory.

Your phone was going off every five minutes with emails, and texts, calls, and reminders. Your laptop glued to your side, as well as your ipad, and today was the worst it had been in months.

Big projects coming up and documents had to be read over, slides gone through, speeches double- no, triple checked, and emails responded to the second they came through.

Obviously, Oscar was a little bummed that you couldn’t make it, but work was first, and he had no problem attending alone, as long as he got to see you when it was over.

And he did. Unfortunately, the circumstances sucked. You weren’t able to have the tv on the race, you were mostly on facetimes with people, and you had to be in your office. So you were unable to see how his car had completely shit out. Brakes broken and balance off, as well as a loose tire, he was out fast. Meaning he would start at the back on race day.

“Y/N?” Oscar called out, about to call you again when he saw you. You. Wearing his favorite hoodie, eating strawberries, and scrolling through the Formula 1 app for updates.

He came over to the sofa, making you look up and part your lips to talk, but no words came out. Defeated, that was the only word that came to mind when you looked at your boyfriend. And what was worse? Lando had placed p2 in qualifying, meaning his press after sucked.

“Hey…” You frowned and greeted him back, not knowing his mind right now. Upset, yes, but you didn’t know if he wanted a kiss, a hug, or-

Your mind went numb as he pulled your bowl away, as well as your phone, turning it off and placing it on the charger on the side table. Blinking up at him, he bit his bottom lip as his eyes got a little darker.

“I’m sorry, Osc. Do you want me to-“ He cut you off with a kiss before you could even finish your sentence. Gasping into the kiss, he slid his tongue in your mouth.

You grabbed his hair, pulling him closer just as he broke away and smiled at your pout.

He got down on his knees in-front of you, in-front of the couch, “It’s okay, princess. Just relax, ok?” Oscar pulled your shorts down, as you nodded, releasing a deep breath.

Slowly, he lowered his lips, softly kissing your thighs as you let out soft moans that were barely audible. His kisses traveled up, closer to your core where you needed him most.

Shallow breaths filled the room as he traced his finger over your underwear, on top of your clit. "Please, Oscar." You whined, moving your hips closer to him.

The way the sunset glow was shining on his face made you all the more needy for him. He knew this, smiling at you through hooded eyes as he pulled your underwear down with his fingers, tossing them on the floor.

"Are you going to be good for me tonight, doll?" His accent seemed more prominent when he was turned on, which just made you moan out and buck your hips.

"Are you?" He asked again, fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs.

"Yes, please. I need you..." Your eyes welled up a bit, desperate for his touch.

"You need me? Hm, well, if you need me-" Cutting himself off, he placed a kiss to your clit.

His hands held your hips down as he continued to place sporadic kisses to your core. If you let him, he would stay down there for hours, maybe even days. You never failed to make him feel safe and happy. All he needed was you.

Your hands traveled down once more, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. Letting out a moan on your clit, you jerked, feeling the vibrations at what seemed to be a heightened feeling.

He started to kitten lick, making you moan louder and throw your head back. Never wanting to lose eye contact, he tugged your hand that was on his hair, making your look down.

Raising his head, he spoke, "Eyes on me, beautiful, or you don't get to cum."

This gained your attention, now holding eye contact as he continued his ministrations. He boldly licked down to your hole, and back up before adding two fingers to the mix.

His fingers probed and eventually sunk in, making you moan out and clench around him. Oscar had no intention of actually fucking you tonight. All he wanted was to make you cum from his tongue and fingers, proving to himself, and you, that he was better than his p18 in qualifying. Your pleasure was above all else in his mind.

As your high was in sight, your stomach clenched, which he noticed straight away. His fingers still moved in and out at a fast pace, occasionally blowing cold air on your clit to add extra stimulation.

"Oscar- I'm gonna-" You moaned, unable to finish your sentence.

"I know, doll. It's okay, let go for me." He soothed, never letting up as his tongue went back to your clit.

When you reached your high, your hands grabbed the couch cushions and your toes curled.

Oscar helped you ride out your high, slowly licking and rubbing your calves as he pulled back. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand and sucking his fingers clean, he got up and wen to the bathroom.

Your eyes could barely stay awake as you felt a warm wash cloth on your legs and core, wiping you down and making sure you were clean. He then put a clean pair of his boxers on you and a new pair for him as well.

Oscar sat down beside you and pulled you to lay down on his chest on the couch, pulling a blanket over you two.

"Thank you, Osc. Don't you want me to-" He stopped you with a kiss, "I'm okay, tomorrow maybe. Lets just cuddle. Please."

You could tell he was exhausted from his day, so you agreed, nestling your head in his neck as he turned the television back onto your show. He kissed your head as you both drifted off to sleep.

No matter how much racing could frustrate him, he could always count on you to help him destress.

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x y/n #f1 smut #smut #formula 1 smut #mclaren smut #mclaren #op81 #op81 smut

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lowpolyanimals · 9 months

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How are you doing?

hey! I am doing much better these days, PMDD is kicking my butt every month still but I am doing pretty well considering. I had to reduce my hours in work to help reclaim some of my life that PMDD takes but it helps a lot so I am very grateful I am able to do that. I got married last year and now am living with my spouse so that has been a dream come true and is such a big help too! I still have way too many hobbies and counting (thanks neopets) for my time available but I am slowly rotating them all and making the most out of my time finally!

I am really sorry that I was away for so long. At the time that I left, I was just so overwhelmed due to my PMDD getting worse and becoming unbearable, working whilst ill, trying to catch up on work / life missed due to ill health etc. and it all got a bit too much for me. Even the thought of coming back to the blog after a couple weeks was too overwhelming (because of how I was running the blog at the time). Later on I had also deleted Tumblr from my phone in an attempt to reduce screen time but it meant that I stopped using it completely and I regret that it largely contributed to me staying away for so long.

I want to give this blog a big old reboot and get it up and running again but I realised that I need to change the way that I run the blog. Previously I had this HUGE backlog of submissions that caused me to have to spend hours and hours one day of my weekend to get through so many submissions. I wanted to just power through until eventually I’d get to the point where I’d just be able to handle submissions as soon as they come in then and there but there was just too many and it took too much of a toll and I hit breaking point. :(

So I’ve decided to just run the blog now how I've always wanted to - by dealing with submissions as and when they come in and opening/closing submissions to keep it to a manageable level (I'm sure this is how other blogs do it, I think I am just dumb lol). I will also post them immediately as and when they come in and only use the queue if I’m going to be posting several posts in a row to avoid spamming. It just means posting will be a bit more sporadic sometimes that’s all. However, in order for me to do this, I am going to have to omit the backlog (for now). I can always go back to the backlog and shave some off if I can handle it (or please feel free to resubmit anything I've not already posted).

I’ll make a new pinned post in a couple of days explicitly explaining the new changes to how the blog will be run behind the scenes, although honestly it’s not going to affect much on you guys side of things, you will still see the same content and submit the same way. I just want to add a rule to say please do not submit more than one post a day and that I’ll open/close submissions to keep things manageable. Submissions will stay off until that post comes out so just bear with me (🐻) a little longer!

Just want to say before I end this really long post (they always get so out of hand lol) that I MISSED YOU GUYS TOO and I LOVE YOU ALL and your kind messages made me so very motivated to get this going again, thank you! 🥺❤️ I can’t wait to bring you more of these little critters we love so much once again :)

#yooo i can't remember my tags #what did i used to say for non animal related posts #blog talk #oh my god that was it #don't take me to the home just yet

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 10 months

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Peter Parker x widow!reader

I'm just imaging Natasha little sister coming to live at Stark tower and Peter falling head over heels

He just strikes me as the type to have a badass girlfriend while he's a softie

a/n: feels an appropriate for this to do a classic flirty sparring fic, don't you think? ♡

word count: 618

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“You’re strong, right?” you nonchalantly asked as you passed Peter in the hallway, not stopping in your stride to wait for his answer.

Doing a double take, he sputtered, “w-what?”

“Come with me,” you kept your eyes fixed forward as you called back to him, “I need someone to train with.”

“Uh, okay,” you heard his footsteps catch up to yours.

Readjusting the protective wraps your fists were already enveloped in, you soon rounded the corner into the gym, briefly giving each of your arms a good stretch to each side on your determined stride towards the wide mat in the centre of the room.

“Alright,” you spun around, gesturing for him to step closer, joining you on the square pad, “no webs or anything,” you rolled your neck, a quiet crack resounding at the stretch, “just some good old fashion one on one, yeah?”

“I really don’t wanna hurt you,” he exhaled lowly as you raised your clenched fists.

“Well, that makes one of us,” you chuckled, not needing any longer before pouncing, landing a swift blow to the side of his jaw, “come on, hit me!”

A grimace briefly blooming from where you struck him, he groaned, “I can’t, I’m sorry, it just feels wrong to hit a girl.”

“Parker,” you rolled your eyes and vocalised the reason for your choice of sparring partner, “I wanted a challenge, so give me a fucking challenge.”

Your leg arced all the way up to his shoulder, though your foot barely even managed a tap him before he had somehow twisted you down onto the floor, overpowering you with his staggering strength. Thinking that was enough, a soft smile curled up on Peter’s lips as he hovered above you, waiting for you to tap out.

Though when your palm reluctantly came down upon the mat and you both got back up, you quickly hissed, “again!”

“You sure you don’t wanna just-,” his sentence crumbled as you cut him off with yet another punch.

“I said again!” you tightened your core and spun up onto his shoulders in an attempt to take him down. Smirking as you felt him begin to tumble, the celebration sadly didn’t last very long as you didn’t land on your feet as you usually did, his instincts haven kicked in and sent you rolling across the floor.

All the air in your lungs got knocked out as your body collided with one of the sporadic pillars in the room, an excruciating pain flaring up in your right shoulder at the impact.

“Oh my god,” Peter rushed to your side as you slowly sat up, “I am so so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“Peter,” you groaned to shut him up, peeking down at your dislocated joint, “I’m fine,” your laboured breaths filled the air, “just pop it back into place.”

“What?”

Squinting up at his horrified features, you carefully got back up on your feet and murmured, “fine, I’ll just do it myself then,” before turning to face the column and pressing your injured shoulder against it.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Peter winched, “you could make it worse like that if you-” the loud snap as you rammed against the post, popping it back into place, effectively shut him up completely.

“Sure, if you’re an idiot and don’t know how to do it,” you exhaled as the sharp stinging melted into a more bearable ache, “you have no idea how many times I've had it happen. Still remember the first time I had to figure out how to do it on my own. I was on an assignment in Düsseldorf, hiding in this closet and I couldn’t make a sound…”

#lea’s writing #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker request #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #black widow!reader #peter parker x black widow!reader #peter parker x widow!reader

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borderlinebelle · 22 days

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If mental health has you or someone you love by the NECK my haphazard garbage content might be for you.

video is like 1 min long, don’t panic.

ALSO… if you’re broke af .. this content might uh… might also be for you … if it helps I’m crazy and poor too. I’m crazy poor if I’m ffr. 🤣

come away with me … in the night… link beneath👇🏽

DOING MY WACK TAXES EP 2 IS UP NOW…

also I fight a bug I guess?

SUBSCRIBE! I can only really post when my brain allows so it’s sporadic. Sorry.

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gosmigenergy · 7 months

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KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Two

FROTTAGE / SEXUAL FRUSTRATION / VIRGINITY

( Triple Frontier Boys x F!Reader )

Summary: After a conscious decision to stop dating, your friend invites you to fight night where more than one person catches your eye.

Rating: 12A?

Warnings: Mentions of dating/bad relationships, allusions to a non-monogamous relationship, language, drinking, teeny bit of masturbation, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.4k

Notes: When @absurdthirst announced their Kinktober 2023 list, I actually got inspired to start writing and I’m now taking the plunge by posting them online. It’s been a few years since I wrote smut so bear with me. If there is anything spoken in italics, it’s Santiago or Francisco speaking in Spanish, I didn’t want to just Google translate and butcher it. My brain also didn’t do this in numerical order hence why there is no Day 01 though this story seemed more of a fitting start.

I may not complete the entire list so be ready for sporadic updates, enjoy!

(P.S. Hi Moyra!)

The story of how you ended up in an open relationship with four, rather handsome guys was a simple one.

You were lonely and horny but also indecisive.

Your notable chastity came after a series of shitty relationships and dates with men. After being ghosted, catfished and caught up in a quick partnership with a toxic dom, you had pretty much given up on the male species. Except, once a few months had passed, the sexual urge came back, you couldn’t fathom the strength to go out and find people but there is only so much a toy can do.

“A cage fight? What are we going to do at a cage fight?”

“I don’t know,” your friend spoke with a tone that indicated she knew something you didn’t. “But there will be plenty of men.”

You roll your eyes, she was desperate to get you back out there, she also knew you well enough to know fighting your sexual nature was soon going to become a struggle and she couldn’t handle the idea of another crap hook up for you.

“Fine.”

That evening you found yourself outside of town, in front of a sorry looking hanger with your friend waiting for the rest of the group, watching the slim picking choices of men.

“If I wanted a frat boy, I could have just gone to that one bar.”

Your friend scoffed, “Frat boys are not the only option here.”

They weren’t but they seemed to be the better option.

Every other man you saw, you wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. Amongst the Frat boys was portly bikers who could barely remain on their bikes, those who you could only describe as rednecks and guys so terrifying, the idea of approaching them didn’t even come to the forefront of your mind.

“How long do you think the girls are going to be?”

“Fashionably late,” she shrugs.

“There’s a strong possibility they’ll miss their guy.”

You have flashbacks to when you went to a concert and they arrived so late, they only made it in time for the main act. The pair of you had sworn never to attend anything with them unless you had your tickets and could make your way to the venue without them. Tonight, you were both a little worried about how they’d be when they turned up and in an event like this, they’d stand out in the crowd.

You hugged your frame, bobbing up and down on the balls of your feet.

“Could we just get them to message when they’re here?”

“We’ll give them another 20 minutes.”

The flurry of people thickened and you stood to one side to allow everyone to pass without having to go around you. You were watching the time pass by on your phone when your friend’s announcement interrupted you.

“They’re here.”

“Thank fuck.”

You raise your head, about to look passed the incoming audience when you caught sight of someone.

He has his head ducked low underneath a baseball cap, his outfit in shades of navy and grey, hands stuffed in tight jeans pockets. Under the brim, his brown eyes flicked up to yours like he knew he was being watched. A smile came to his lips, brightening his five o’clock shadow, the moment between you was brief.

He carried on walking and you kept your eyes in front, swallowing as you felt his gaze still on you.

“Are you ok?” Your friend queried.

“I’m fine.”

The temperature rises in your cheeks.

“Uh-huh.”

In the venue, the group of you squeezed into a middle row on one side of the cage. The rest of the girls had already arrived a little bit ‘squiffy’ as they put it and on the second round of drinks, you’d offered to head to the overcrowded bar.

You had spent the evening rejecting offers from all sort of men, the cheesiest chat up lines plugged to you in every kind of way - ‘when do you get in the ring’, ‘what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this’ etcetera, etcetera. Your mystery man was nowhere to be seen and you think he was just a figment of your imagination.

Pushing your way through the throng, you manage to grab onto the trim of the makeshift bar and haul yourself forward. You lean your weight on your elbows and wait patiently for one of the bar staff to finish serving another drunkard.

“So, what’s a little girl like you doing in a place like this?”

The way they said ‘little girl’ made your skin crawl, even the guy next to you clocked your discomfort.

“Out with friends and would rather be left alone, thank you.”

“Aw, come on, I just want to talk.”

“I’d rather not, I’ve had plenty of men try and talk to me tonight and I told them the exact same thing. Please leave me alone.”

There was movement behind you but you thought it best not to make eye contact. You felt the air pass your shoulder as the guy next to you threw up a hand and caught the other man’s wrist that was inches away from your body.

“Hey, she’s already asked you nicely to leave her alone.��

Oh god, was a fight going to start because of you?

The growing tension had your heart pounding and your knuckles became white as you held your nerve.

“Who are you, her boyfriend?”

“If I was, would it stop you harassing her?”

The man behind you mumbled something incoherently before squirming out of the guy’s grip and staggering away.

“Thank you,” you finally look his way, giving him a smile.

He smiled, giving you a gestured nod, “You’re welcome.”

Even in this light, he had baby blue eyes and delicate freckles along his cheek bones. His upper body was wide, holding it’s own against wave after wave of people coming in to wait along the bar.

“You have some pretty quick reflexes, are you sure you’re not meant to be in that cage?”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, not my kind of thing. How about you? That look could have knocked him dead.”

“There’d be a lot bodies on the floor if it worked,” you quip. “I’m here as chaperone to the group of forlorn looking girls waiting for their man.”

His smile broaden, digging dimples into his cheeks.

“And who might that be?”

“Benny Miller,” you shrug.

You’ve been invited to watch him fight but actually have no fucking idea what he looks like, the girls have just been swooning about his ridiculous six pack.

“Really? He’s going to be thrilled.”

“You think?”

“I’m his brother, of course I know.”

You cock your head, eyebrows arching, maybe you could understand the fascination with this fighter if his brother is anything to go by.

“Oh god, how many Millers are there?”

His laugh is contagious.

“Only the two of us. If you count brothers in arms, there’s four.”

You should have guessed with those reflexes he was some sort of military.

Just as you’re about to speak, a bar man appears and he allows you to order your round first, five shots should come quickly. Juggling to get a grip of five tiny plastic glasses in two hands, you flash him another smile.

“Thanks…” You falter, “Sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”

“Will.”

You introduce yourself and thank him again before slipping into the stream of people, excusing and apologising to anyone who got in your way.

“You were gone a while,” you friend said inquisitively after taking a shot of sour cherry flavoured liquor.

You hum, “I got harassed at the bar and Benny Miller’s brother stepped in as my knight in shining armour.”

She laughs, checking quickly to see if the other girls heard.

“What is with you tonight? First that guy at the entrance, now the brother.”

“His name is Will and I haven’t seen that other guy since.”

It was nice to know he wasn’t imaginary.

There were a few rounds before Benny’s, the girls squealing and looking away as two guys beat the living daylight out of each other. They shouldn’t have been there, too much blood, too much violence and too much sweat from the crowd washing over them and it wasn’t like they could talk either.

The break came and as the other girls insisted on another drink, you politely excused yourself to breath some cool outside air.

You refused the offer of a cigarette when you stepped out the doors, eyes flitting to see if there was an empty bench or some patch of grass where you could escape the huddle of people congregating. Wandering around, you found yourself at the side entrance of the hanger, a lone person leaning a brick low barring wall.

There couldn’t be any harm sitting with him, he seemed harmless enough.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

The man glanced over, brown curls flicking from under his cap.

“Go ahead.”

You side, jumping to rest your ass before taking a massive swing of water from the fountain you’d discovered on your way out.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

“No offence but you don’t seem one for violence.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You look too sweet and innocent,” he shrugged.

You hum, “Who says I’m innocent?”

He laughs, dropping his head before taking a swig of beer, eyes in front of him.

“I apologise.”

“That’s ok, I get what you’re saying, it’s been pretty brutal so far.”

His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, “I’ve seen worse.”

“Well, for the sake of the girls I’m with, I hope Benny Miller don’t get the shit beaten out of him.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t.”

He sounded so sure and that’s when your brain made the connection to what Will said earlier.

“You’re one of his brothers in arms, aren’t you?”

The man leaned back, placing one hand on his thigh, the little target tattoo on his hand stretching. He faced you now with a furrowed brow and parted lips, his eyes dark as you could see his mind working out how you knew.

“I bumped into Will at the bar.”

His expression seemed to soften.

“He told you about me?”

“Not specifically,” you winced, trying not to hurt his feelings. “We just got talking.”

The corners of his lips twitched, “He did mention meeting a pretty girl at the bar.”

You had to look away, your cheeks and chest immediately on fire, a spark that travelled your lower belly, spreading with desire. Will said you were pretty and he just clarified the comment, your friend was right, what is with you tonight?

He was just about to speak until the heavy swing of the door made you jump, he barely moved an inch.

“You better get you ass in here, Benny will lose his shit if you ain’t there to walk him in.”

For a brief moment, you couldn’t see who was attached to the voice but it was smooth.

They step out from behind the door and you saw the edge of a blue bomber jacket and the navy peak of a cap, his soft slopping nose and the five o’clock shadow along his sharp jawline.

Oh no.

It was if he caught something out of the corner of his eye, like he saw his friend and wondered why there was another person sat next to him, who was the other person sat next to him. His one eyebrow was arched, his lip straight until he recognised the face.

“Didn’t I catch your eye earlier?”

“I’m sure it was the other way round,” you remark wittily.

He smiled, nodding, “Agree to disagree.”

“If you say so.”

“Are you going to chat up all my guys tonight?”

He points between you and the other guy.

“I think you’ll find they keep chatting to me.”

He laughs, nodding again.

Both of the men shared a look, understanding each other though no word was exchanged, it was annoying yet somewhat enticing.

You wished you could know what they were thinking.

“Come on, Fish, he’s going on in a couple of minutes.”

He got up from the wall, abandoning the empty cup but he glanced one last time at you.

“Fish?”

“Nickname,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s Frankie to everyone else.”

You tell him your name and he smiles, nodding as he walked away. Frankie pats the other man on the back, stating ‘hermano’ and sauntering away, readjusting his cap before he disappeared into the venue.

Slipping off the wall, you went to say goodbye before he gestured for you to come through the back.

“Thanks.”

The door slammed behind him and he followed you, body unbelievably close, his breath mixing with the heat contained in the hanger.

“So, do I get to know your name?”

Glancing over your shoulder, he still has that soft smile, eyes roaming what was in front of him that caused goosebumps to arrive on your skin.

“No.”

You walked passed rows of lockers and tired wooden benches before he stopped, letting you walk a little further.

“Go to your left and follow the corridor to the double doors.”

You nod, “See you in there?”

His smile grew, “Sure.”

Following his instructions, the corridor felt like it went on for miles, the music muffled through the brickwork, the only sound your shoes squeaking on tiles. You were trying to wrap your head around what was going on, how had you met three guys in one night who all knew each other and seemed, to you anyway, to be caught in your gravitational pull? Or was your friend right, were you just that ridiculously horny after months of your own hand or toys?

You shake your head, taking a deep breath before joining civilisation again.

“They wanted to get closer,” your friend said, rolling her eyes.

“Aren’t we technically in the splash zone now?”

“D’you think they’re bothered?”

She was right, the rest of the girls were far too gone to even worry about being covered in sweat, beer and possibly blood, all you prayed for is none of them got ahead of themselves and flashed the fighter at the worst time.

After Benny’s name got introduced over the speakers and the match started, you finally saw the other three from the group, distorted opposite by the wire hexagons that followed the cage. Even they were sensible enough to sit several rows back, they cheered and backed Benny the whole way through and when the opportunity arose, fleetingly looked to you.

A heat washed over your body.

“They said this is the way!”

The girls were giggling, tottering up the corridor as fast as they could in heels. You and your other friend held back, mostly to ensure you weren’t connected to the fangirls who were trying to find a battered and bruised man.

You pretended you didn’t know where the locker room was though you were there moments earlier, you couldn’t face the queries from your friend.

“He’ll be in here,” a friend beckons everyone over.

“And I’m out,” you hold your hands up. “I’m not sneaking into the boys locker room.”

“Really? I thought you’d quite like a photographic memory for tonight.”

You shake you head, “I have the internet for that.”

She laughs, nudging your hip.

“I’m just going to see how this all plays out.”

“Sure.”

She pushes you away and you stagger to an empty space on the wall, leaning against it and allowing the cold to spread across you back. Tipping your head back, you close your eyes, taking a breath.

“Don’t want to join your friends.”

A familiar voice breaks the silence.

“Do you always hang round in the shadows?”

He scoffs, “No.”

“I’d rather not be associated with,” you wave a hand. “Their actions.”

He moves to the wall opposite you, copying your stance, his smile curling as he can hear the chaos in the distance.

“You know it’s a shame,” he looked at you through the corner of his eyes. “He would have liked to have met you.”

You scowl, tilting your head.

“You’ve been talking about me?”

“Will and Fish are quite enamoured with you.”

“And you?”

Your heart was pounding, the blood rushing to your head. You were nervous to hear his answer, tongue sweeping over your dry lips and all he could do was smile, breaking eye contact.

“I don’t think you could handle me.”

You hum, “I like a challenge.”

He pursed his lips, cocking his head to one side.

“You look too sweet for me, honey.”

The way he said ‘honey’ was intoxicating, smooth with a hint of his Spanish pronunciation, it made your heart flutter. You push yourself off the wall and take a few steps over to him, folding your arms across your chest, standing tall.

You look him up and down, your expression scrunching, you’d seen someone like him before not exactly like him but they all appear the same.

“Maybe that’s just what you need… A good girl who’ll do as she’s told.”

He turned to face you, eyes almost black and you swallowed. His smile crocked into a smirk, he noticed the falter in your otherwise firm stance. Moving his body close, he leaned forward, hands placed to his hips. He brought his lips to the shell of your ear.

“Then give me your phone.”

You do as you’re told, unlocking the screen as you hand it over.

Taking it in one hand, he gives you space and taps away before giving it back. You check the details on the phone.

Santiago Garcia is a new contact.

“Give us a message if you need anything.”

You blinked at the screen then up at him, his face had softened.

“I’ll hold you to that, Santiago.”

He winked and walked away, out of your vision, he shooed the girls away.

—

“So, did ask her?”

The guys had driven to a late night diner after the match, part of Benny’s post match routine was stuffing his face with a load of carbs.

“Not quite,” Santiago took a bite of a fry. “I gave her my number.”

Benny practically made a raspberry noise like a child.

Santiago shook his head, throwing his hands up, “The balls in her court.”

“You should have just asked her.”

Frankie took a swig of his coffee, “This isn’t the kind of thing you just walk up and ask, she would have run a fucking mile.”

Benny pointed with his fork, “This is why I should have done it.”

Frankie burst into laughter, Santiago and Will shaking their heads, he has no fucking idea.

“What?”

“There’s no way she would have taken the offer from you,” Will was trying to contain his laughter, cheeks turning a faint hue of pink. “I trust Pope, the balls in her court now.”

Benny ladled the last of his food onto his fork, “Do you think she’ll bite?”

Santiago was praying to every god that you did even though he was far from religious. This is the first time back since he felt anything, it was unusual that he found himself vying for attention with the other boys.

This was new territory for him and he’s done a lot of shit.

He thinks back to the conversation with you, he didn’t expect what came out of your mouth and it was like the lure of a siren to a sailor. It’s why he reconsidered you as an option. Sure, you cracked a little when he got close yet who wouldn’t and that’s when he guessed you may have seen it before.

His fingers have been twitching to check his phone all night.

“You’re guess is as good as mine.”

And you were laying in bed contemplating whether it was too early to message him.

After the fight, you thought you’d just go home and crash, you thought wrong.

Stripping off, you decided to take a shower to get rid of the grime from the night. You had an idea you were wet, you just didn’t realise how much your arousal had pooled. There was so many factors you could blame - several matches where two sweaty, semi dressed men were in close proximity to each other, three men’s eyes watching you and your eyes met, Santiago centimetres from your face.

The water fell soothing down your skin and you settled two fingers against your clit, rubbing gently. Closing your eyes, you pictured the fine details, the blonde of Will’s hair, the wideness of Frankie’s hand, the musk of Santiago’s aftershave.

You dragged your fingers along your folds, gasping as you sunk them into your burning cunt.

It was embarrassing how quickly you came to the thought of them, you hands reaching for the cool tiles of your bathroom as your legs threatened to give way. Your breath was shaking, your body vibrating as the warmth travelled up your spine.

“Fuck.”

A message popped up on your phone from your friend, hoping that you had a good night, the winking face emoji a hint to the boys. Messaging now seemed desperate, your teeth grazed you lip.

Rolling over, you prayed that sleep would take you.

You decided against messaging Santiago in the morning, you were groggy and unmotivated with suggestions of a possible meet up would fall on deaf ears. It was in the afternoon, after some good food and a walk in the fresh air that you felt ready.

‘And when you say anything, what did you have in mind?’

That was the question that lead you to the bar tonight.

As it was a dive bar, or so you and your friends believed, you didn’t wear anything fancy however it didn’t mean you under dressed. You wore a dress that accentuated the curves of your body, hiding it with an oversized jacket and trainers. Taking a breath, you pushed through the doors, the vision of Santiago stood at the bar ordering.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“I’m fashionably late,” you retort, taking a note out of your friends’ books.

He laughed, “What are you drinking?”

He bought you a drink and you went to join the boys at the table, finally being introduced to Benny.

“I was kind of insulted you didn’t want to meet me but I’ll forgive you.”

The five of you talked about everything and anything, you learned that Frankie was a pilot, Santiago chased cartels for years after being in the military because he couldn’t stand still and the Miller brothers spent their youth on a family farm. After food and another round, Benny decided that it was the perfect time to get the conversation rolling on to why you were here.

“Are we gonna do this or not?”

He was straight to the point.

“Christ, Benny,” Will could have kicked him under the table. “Always thinking with that dick of yours.”

You guessed the implication would be something sexual, you got that from Santiago last night but his text gave you nothing, actually the whole evening gave you nothing. It was just nice to be in the company of four very different yet very attractive men who hadn’t push any boundaries.

Frankie lifted his cap and ran his fingers through brown curls, his focus pulling to Santiago.

“You want to start? You’re better with words.”

It’s also more his kind of thing, is what he left out, but it wasn’t easy.

Your eyes flicked to every man around the table. Frankie couldn’t make eye contact, Benny glanced between you and Santiago while Will seemed to be the calmest of the lot.

“We got talking yesterday about a girl we saw at the fight and it turns out we were talking about the same one. Now, the guys haven’t really done this before, I’ve shared before but not quite like this —“

“Wait, did you just say shared?”

It was alarmingly hot all of the sudden.

“Yes, I did,” he rubbed the scar along his neck.

Frankie chuckled to himself, “I guess there is no easy way of saying it.”

Santiago could see your mind working overtime, the knot in your brows tightening. Your lips opened before you stopped and thought over your words again.

“Do you guys want a five way?”

You wouldn’t complain if they did.

Benny and Santiago’s brows seemingly raised.

“Not quite, sweetheart,” Will lowered his tone, closing in on you so his frame blocked the rest of the bar from your vision. “We’re thinking more, we share you out evenly, four ways.”

You blink, tongue running over your dry lips, just the thought alone had settled between your thighs.

“So, a different guy every night?”

“If you want,” Benny chimed in.

Santiago shrugged, “I was thinking more of a weekly schedule.”

That would make sense.

Your mind was processing the concept, it could be good, yet it could also be bad, catastrophically bad. That’s what happened with that dom, they made all these promises, that they’d buy you all these rewards and gifts if you did what they wanted, they never came. They had you running round in circles, doing a load of shit you thought you wanted to do when in actuality, you didn’t. They manipulated you until you finally said no and then they gaslighted you into thinking it was all your fault when it never was.

Could these guys do that too?

“What are you thinking, querida?” Frankie broke through the silence.

“Just the string of bad relationships that came before this,” you take a swig of your drink, catching his puppy dog eyes. “Not that I’m saying this is a bad idea, it’s just…”

You chose your words carefully.

“I’d need to see the terms and conditions.”

He nodded, “That’s fair.”

“I’ll get the papers to you in the morning,” Santiago joked.

“I better not see any spelling mistakes or the deal’s off.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Will’s my copywriter.”

You tried to keep the upper hand but you broke, the smile cracking on your lips.

“Sooo, is that a yes?”

Benny’s eyes were darting from person to person, this conversation was too cryptic for him, he wanted a firm answer.

“It’s a maybe.”

He pouted, nodding, “I’m taking that as a positive, celebratory shots on me.”

The rest of the boys groaned as he slipped out of the booth towards the bar, Will apologising for his brother’s enthusiasm given the fact you didn’t give a solid ‘yes’. You thought you’d pretty much ruled men out and then suddenly the universe had gifted you four of them.

Maybe this was the end of that dry spell, the possibility of your sexual awakening and more and honestly, you didn’t mind at all.

#kinktober 2023 #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #reader insert #santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales #will ironhead miller #benny miller #slow burn #kinktober #first time posting #im gonna post this and log off

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entirelyenigmatic17 · 8 months

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My tumblr apparently celebrated its 10 year anniversary the other day 😱

Thanks to everyone who’s read, liked, laughed at, shared one of my posts over the years. I’m super grateful!

Also, sorry for the sporadic posting. I am currently in animation school and working full time, but I promise I’ll post some more over the next couple of months.

#xmen #cherik #marvel #charles xavier #magneto #gratitude #anniversary

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pastshadows · 4 months

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Shadows of the Past

Chapter 4: Magic and Mischief

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [not in currently posted chapters; possibly upcoming - I haven't decided] Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

You hear the beating sound of wings, and your bed lurches, causing you to drift in and out of your trance. Your eyes flutter, but you continue to bob between the waking world and your meditative state. Pressure on your chest pulls at the edges of your trance, and it crumbles down around you. You groan in lamenting protest at the intrusion on your rest. You urge your eyes to open and see Tara’s round green eyes staring down at you. Her little face is twisted in a fuming scowl.

“Your vampire is in a petulant mood this morning.”

That’s nothing new.

You stifle a yawn, “What do you mean?”

“I was hunting a mouse in his room, and he hurled a pillow at me! The audacity!”

Better a pillow than a dagger, I suppose.

Blinking, you rub the sleep out of your eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, he was far too slow.”

Your still half-asleep mind processes her words sluggishly.

Too slow…

Wait.

Too slow?

A swell of unease tightens your chest, causing your heart to palpate sporadically, and worry creases your forehead.

What did she mean by too slow? Astarion was never slow. Unless…

“I’m sorry he did that, Tara. You might want to consider his room a no-hunting zone. I will speak to him.”

Her tail sticks straight up, and her ears pin back, “Be sure you do. That kind of boorish behaviour will not be tolerated.”

She jumps off your bed with a furious huff and skitters out of your room through the small opening of your door, where she no doubt let herself in to apprise you of the vampire’s ill-mannered behaviour.

Too slow…

Tara’s words echo, reverberating off the boundaries of your thoughts. The only time Astarion was too slow was when he was hurt or starving, but he had seemed fine last night when he came to check on you. Without the daylight from the windows streaming in, it’s hard to discern what time it is, but it can’t be much later than early morning.

He typically isn’t even awake this early.

You slip out of bed in a flurry and slip your housecoat over your nightwear, tying it tight around your waist. You trot down the long, dim hallway. The wooden parquet flooring creaks under you, and your heavy footsteps echo off the walls. In your rush, you don’t even bother to light the candles to illuminate the space.

You knock on his door lightly, “Astarion?”

“Go away.”

His voice is unusually tense, bordering on strained. Your perception strikes like lightning, awakening all your senses in a sharp trill of foreboding alarm.

He doesn’t sound like his usual cavalier self.

“Astarion, what’s wrong?”

“Please, just go away.”

Something is very wrong.

“No. I’m coming in.”

Swinging the door open, he scowls at you in a haunting grimace, “I said GO AWAY.”

Did he actually just yell at me?

Astarion had shouted at you before, but not often with such a pointed edge of malice tingeing his voice. If you were not so worried about him, it might have given you pause, but you shrug it off without much thought. Astarion would never hurt you.

Well… not physically or purposefully, at least.

The darkness obscures your vision, and although you can naturally see in the dark to some extent, it limits your ability to see details.

You whisper a cantrip, and fire combusts from your palm, forming a bright glowing sphere that hovers and revolves as if you were holding a small star in your hand.

Astarion barely reacts to the sudden emittance of fire. His eyes squint slightly at the unexpected bright light, and he looks from the fire to you with an unspoken query.

Narrowing your eyes, you peer at him observingly, studying him. His body is taught. All his muscles are tense as if he’s ready to fight. He trembles so violently you can practically feel him vibrating the air around you. His jaw is clenched hard, making the muscles in his neck protrude unnaturally. His eyebrows knit together in a frightening expression that makes your hair stand on edge.

He closes his eyes with a grimace and struggles to make himself appear relaxed, but you can see his knuckles strain and tremor under his death grip on the door. His other arm is bent behind his back, and even though you can’t see it, you know it’s clenched in a tight fist as he battles with himself.

“Darling, please, leave me be.”

You recognize this look. When you had first entered the Shadowlands, you had been so focused on trying to find a way to survive that horrid curse that no one had clued into the fact that there were no animals in this place for him to eat. Astarion never mentioned it to anyone and instead had suffered in silence until you found him in the furthest corner of the camp one night, away from everyone.

You toss and turn on your bedroll. The shadows of this place whisper and taunt from beyond the light that keeps them at bay. The corruption here is strong. It leaves you feeling unsettled, making slipping into a meditative state almost impossible.

Walking around camp as quietly as you can, you check on your friends, hoping it will ease some of the anxiety you feel. You mentally check them off in your head as you walk around.

Shadowheart. Gale. Wyll. Karlach. Lae’zel. Halsin. Scratch. Owlbear cub.

When you get to Astarion’s tent, he’s not there, and you look around the camp, confused for a moment.

Did he go hunting?

But how would he survive the curse?

Wait… What would he even hunt? Nothing survives the curse here, which means even if he could go hunting, there’s nothing for him to eat.

Fuck! How could I have been so blind?

You jog around but refrain from calling out to him. The others need their rest. You had been travelling through this damned land, fighting off all manner of creatures, and everyone was exhausted.

“Withers, where is Astarion?”

You pray the answer out of his mouth isn’t a demand for coin to cleave soul to body once more, but he simply points to an obscured area at the furthest edge of the camp.

You take off in the direction Withers is pointing in a hurry. As you turn a shallow corner, Astarion finally comes into view. He’s lying on the ground, curled up and writhing on the spot. His arms crossed over his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead creased in the unmistakable grimace of agony.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You skid down and fall to your knees beside him, reaching for him, but he lurches away like a coiled spring, finally snapping free from the pressure.

“Stay away from me.”

“Astarion…”

He snarls at you like a wounded animal trying to protect itself from further harm. His mouth is set in a hard line. His jaw clenched so hard he can barely speak, teeth grating together with such force you can hear them rasping.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Who’s counting?”

His voice shakes, tinged with a pain you’ve never heard in it before.

“How long, Astarion?”

“A ten-day, give or take a day, or two, or three. Time itself stills in this place.”

“Hells! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“Not important!? You are important! You should have said something!”

You bare your neck to him, “Here, feed on me.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“You need your strength. In this place, everything is hungry.”

“Don’t be foolish!” You chastise him, “I… I need you.”

You haven’t yet told him about your feelings for him. They remain a secret, sitting uneasily and unspoken in your heart.

“I said no.”

“Please don’t make me do this, Astarion. I’m begging you.”

He shakes his head at you, his arms wrapped around himself as he trembles like a leaf in the wind.

You sigh, “I’m sorry. You leave me no choice.”

The last thing you want to do to him is take his agency away from him, but he cannot go on like this. He can barely speak, let alone continue travelling through this cursed land. You won’t, can’t, allow him to perish here.

With a quick maneuver, you unsheathe his dagger from his hip and slice a deep gash into your wrist. Blood rushes, gurgling out of the wound, dripping onto the dirt. Breath hisses from him harshly as his eyes focus on the bleeding cut.

You bring your wrist close to his face, “I need you, Astarion. Let me help you.”

His eyes dart to yours before he gives in with a growl, and his lips wrap around the bleeding slash. You can feel him draw your blood from you in large gulps. He moans low in his throat, and his body starts to relax, bit by bit, limb by limb.

You can feel yourself start getting lightheaded as he siphons your life out of you. Your skin starts to cool and pale, and your eyes feel heavy. Your heartbeat starts to slow to a feeble thump.

With a snarl, he throws himself back, detaching from your hemorrhaging wrist. Bright red blood is smeared on his lips and dribbles down the sides of his mouth.

He looks at you with alarm in those vibrant scarlet eyes and scrambles back to you. Astarion grasps your wrist tightly, elevating it above your heart. You waver slightly on your knees and then fall backwards into him, eyes fluttering towards him.

“Do you know how stupid that was? I could have killed you!”

He’s angry with me.

“I trust you, Astarion.”

He growls, “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things. It’s never stopped me before. I don’t see why it would now.”

His eyes bolt to your wrist. Despite his death grip putting pressure on your wound, blood is seeping out from his hand, gliding smoothly down your arm, painting your skin red.

“You cut too deep.”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.”

You close your eyes and float.

He jolts you, “No, wake up!”

“It’s okay, Astarion.”

You’re cold, you drift, and you feel your consciousness slipping.

He bellows, “SHADOWHEART!”

Astarion tries to swing the door shut on you, but you slam your hand into it with a loud thud, causing the fire to vanish instantaneously. Scowling defiantly at him, you push past him and barge into his room. The door rattles violently on its hinges as he slams it behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He seethes.

His room is dark, and you hurl fire into the fireplace, lighting the room in a warm glow.

You turn on him savagely, “You’re hungry, nearly starving by the looks of you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

He sighs loudly, “I may be a tad hungry.”

“A tad? Look at you! You’re trembling all over.”

You reach out to him, desperate to comfort him, but he backs away. Dropping your hand, you let your eyes dart to the floor so he won’t see the crestfallen look in them.

Why does he always hide things from me?"

“Haven’t you been hunting?”

“Of course! Well… I’ve tried.” He groans, “This damn city is too large and entirely too noisy. There isn’t exactly a ton of food readily prancing about.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I… I’ve visited enough pain upon you.”

Oh, for the love of… Not this bullshit again.

“I am not a child, Astarion!” You roar, “How do you ever expect us to work if you keep treating me like some wounded babe that needs coddling?”

The harsh look on his face lightens, “Us?"

Did I just say us?

You sigh, “You need to stop hiding things from me. I want the truth from you, even when it hurts.”

No more running.

"If you can do that, we will see if there can be an “us” again in the future.”

Astarion runs his hand over his face, “As you wish, my dear. I will endeavour to be more open with you going forward.”

“Good. Now, come with me. You need to eat. You’re grumpy.”

He laughs, “Grumpy, am I?”

“Very grumpy.”

Taking his hand, you lead him to your room and close the door, locking it behind you. You light the candle on the dresser with a whispered cantrip.

“How long has it been since you ate?”

“Oh, not too long.”

“The truth, Astarion.”

“Ugh.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut so hard his forehead creases, “About six days. Why?”

“I wanted to assess which strength Potion of Healing I’m going to need.”

“Healing potion?” He blinks, “Why do you still carry those around?”

“Old habits, I suppose.”

You pull the potion out of your bedside table and set it down before removing your housecoat. Throwing it on the bed, you take a step closer to him. You watch his jaw tense and relax repeatedly, and his hands clench into fists.

“You can’t go on like this. Feed on me.”

“I-,”

“Don’t make me get another dagger.”

He snickers, “You do have awfully terrible knife skills.”

“And Shadowheart isn’t here to save me from my own grave ineptitude.”

“You frightened me that night, you know. I hadn’t been that scared in,” he pauses, thinking, “decades. Not even when Cazador would pull me into the kennels…”

He steps closer to you.

“Astarion…”

“You wanted truth in all things, darling.”

Astarion grabs you by the waist, tugging your body flush against his. Bowing his head, he runs his lips down your neck and along your collarbone. As it always does, the temperature contrast sends shivers shooting up your spine, and you gasp. You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck to him further.

Astarion delicately kisses your neck, “You’re a gift.”

You feel that familiar icy pinch as his fangs sink in. You inhale sharply. The sudden stab of pain makes your hands go to his biceps, anchoring yourself, squeezing hard. The sharpness of the pain dissipates rapidly and becomes nothing more than a dull throbbing ache.

He groans against your neck, and you feel your essence being drawn out of you in steady, calculated pulls.

His tongue laps at your neck, savouring every drop. Astarion’s grip on your waist tightens, and he bucks his hips into you. His arousal is obvious, and he wants you to know it - feel it.

With a moan, you can’t help but gyrate your hips demandingly against him in response. You’re full of fevered need for him while he fills himself with you.

Your life spills into him, and you can feel yourself flowing through his veins, powering his muscles, sating his raging hunger. It’s an odd sensation - like you are one person inhabiting two bodies simultaneously.

Or perhaps that's the light-headedness talking.

Your head swims dreamily, and you close your eyes and let yourself begin to drift into him, enjoying the familiar serenity of this moment. The act of him feeding on you has always felt intimate. Your body shakes excitedly, and your heart croons the siren song of desire.

It feels like it ends too soon as Astarion removes his fangs from your neck carefully. He places his cool palm on the wound, putting firm pressure on it to staunch any residual bleeding. He reaches over to the bedside table and uncaps the healing potion with his teeth before bringing it to your lips.

“Drink.”

You do as you’re told, and Astarion pours the viscous sweet liquid into your mouth in deliberate increments, giving you time to swallow until the bottle is drained.

“Good girl.” He purrs as his thumb slides across your lips, wicking away any drops that may have spilt.

His eyes are lidded heavily with a carnal lust you would recognize anywhere. The crimson hue of his irises is so vibrant that they look like polished glinting gems, and you’re captivated by the dazzling incandescence.

Astarion eases the pressure on your neck momentarily, checking to see if the bleeding has stopped before reapplying it.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “Gentle as a babe.”

The tapered points of his ears are flushed rosy-pink, and his body is no longer clenched unnaturally. He looks happy, the way you like to see him, and you smile at him.

“What are you smiling at, my dear?”

Sighing softly, “You.”

“And why ever would that be?”

“You look happy.”

His eyebrows rise, and he cocks his head, “Perhaps, I overdid it.”

“No, you didn’t.” You bring your hand to the one he’s holding firmly against your neck and slide your fingers around his wrist, “I just like seeing you like this; the points of your ears flushed, your body relaxed, smiling. I like seeing you happy.”

His voice softens into a low, seductive timbre, “Is that so? Do you know when I am happiest?”

“Elbow deep in gore, if my memory serves me correctly.”

He chuckles, “Oh no, my love. I’m happiest when I’m deep in you.”

Promptly, you once again become exceedingly cognizant of his hard length pressed firmly against you. Using his index finger, he gently tilts your head so that you’re meeting his gaze. The passionate intensity in his eyes makes your heart leap, and you draw in a sharp breath. Your lips part intuitively as you stare back up at him, letting your eyes devour his beauty.

I should stop him.

He lowers his mouth to yours in a tender caress, and your eyes flutter closed. Your tongue traces his lips, and he parts them for you with a deep moan, allowing you to taste him. His mouth harbours the metallic tang of you, and it only pushes your arousal higher.

Your fingers nimbly pull the hem of his shirt free from his pants, desperate to feel his satiny, cool skin. Your hand glides up the contours of his lithe body greedily. You let out a shuddering breath as you feel the aching need in your already swelling flesh.

Astarion hugs you firmly to him as he walks you carefully backward until you’re anchored between him and your bedroom wall. His erection presses into you, and you grind against him, desperate for the gratifying friction. He groans, driving his hips further into you with an eager whimper.

He breaks the kiss off, nipping playfully at your lower lip, and looks down at you with heated eyes, half-lidded with arousal.

“Tell me what you want, my love, and it’s yours.”

What do I want?

Him.

Just him… forever.

You tremble against him, and your voice comes out in a breathless pant, “You.”

He trails his finger down your neck, featherlight across your chest and between your breasts.

Oh.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know. Skin flushed, teeming with need, begging to be tasted.”

Fuck.

His finger continues its lazy route down your stomach and over your belly button. Your skin prickles at the sensation, and tension coils hot in your abdomen. You can feel your knees buckle as the walls of your core spasm and contract.

So close.

He continues his relentless teasing advance. His fingers sweep under your night shirt and brush over the silk shorts covering your swollen clit, and you let out a shuddering breath.

“Fuck.” He hisses under his breath, “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“Astarion…”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You feel bashful all of a sudden, heat rising to your face. Your voice quivers pleadingly, “I want you.”

Astarion pushes his hand past the waistband of your shorts, and his finger slips between your folds. You have to stop yourself from crying out at the decadent sensation of his bracing fingers cooling the fiery heat pooling between your legs.

The pad of his finger teases your clit, drawing leisurely circles around the swollen, pulsing bundle of nerves. You moan, bucking your hips, and sag into him.

Your bedroom door rattles loudly, and Gale’s muffled voice rings behind it, startling you, “Are you in there? Tara told me something is wrong with Astarion, and he’s not in his room.”

“Gods, his timing is horrendous,” Astarion whispers near your ear.

Or it’s perfect. I let that go too far.

Your entire body whines with displeasure as Astarion stops the delicious onslaught of sensation and withdraws his hand.

It takes you a moment to regain enough of your composure that your mind can coherently put words together again.

“Just a second!” You finally manage to call out.

You grab the robe hanging over the chair by your bed and slip into it in a rush. Astarion sits on your bed, hiding the obvious erection still prominent in trousers.

Your fingers still tremble from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and you fumble with the lock on your door. Gale’s concerned face is awaiting you when you finally manage to open it.

“Were you still resting? I didn’t mean to wake you, but Tara-” He cuts off as his eyes fall on Astarion sitting casually on your bed, “Oh… I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Before Astarion can get a word in, you blurt out, “No, of course not. Tara woke me to say Astarion seemed unwell, so I went to check on him. Everything is fine.”

“Unwell?” Gale eyes the fresh bite mark marring the skin of your neck, “I see.”

Fuck. I forgot about that.

Feeling the need to explain yourself, and by extension Astarion, you continue with your hasty word vomit, “He was just hungry. Apparently, there aren’t a lot of animals roaming the forests around Waterdeep.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure,” Gale says skeptically, eyeing Astarion.

“Your neck is safe, wizard.”

“Yes. I see you’ve already found one to dine on.”

You don’t like the austere intonation of Gale’s voice or the weariness in shaded in his eyes.

“I offered, Gale.”

“Yes, of course you did.”

Astarion stands abruptly, “Thank you for the meal, darling. I’m feeling much less… grumpy. I best get some sleep. I am ever so tired .”

Astarion kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear, “This isn’t over.”

Gale watches Astarion with reservation as he disappears into his room.

“No animals in the forest, hm? And you believe him?”

“He can hear you, Gale.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Yes, I believe him. He has no reason to lie, and we have no reason to doubt him.”

“I would argue that your blood is a rather strong incentive to be untruthful.”

You shoot him with a warning look, irked by the judgemental undertone. It was your neck, your blood and your choice. Whether he believed Astarion or not was inconsequential.

He sighs, “It’s none of my business. You know him better than I, after all.”

Tara lopes down the hallway, rubbing herself on Gale’s legs as she weaves through them.

“Did you speak to the vampire about his conduct?”

“Yes, of course. He said he was ever so sorry, and he won’t throw anything at you ever again. He even promised he would warm your evening milk.” You raise your voice slightly even though you know you don’t have to, “Isn’t that right, Astarion?”

His voice echoes down the hall, muffled by his closed door, and you can hear the displeasure in it, “Indeed.”

Gale excuses himself, proclaiming that he has business in the city he must attend to. Closing your door, you rest your forehead against it, taking deep breaths.

That was too close, but at the same time, not nearly close enough.

Your body is still humming with anticipatory tension, yearning for his intoxicating caress. Your skin crawls with the prospect, and you shake your head, trying to dislodge your titillating thoughts. With a grumble, you ready yourself a bath in the large oval wooden tub and soak in it until the water becomes too tepid.

You spend the rest of your day doing idle chores, trying to keep your hands and mind busy enough that your thoughts stop drifting to what had occurred in your room that morning.

I will never be able to look at that wall the same.

By late evening, you’re sitting by the fireplace in the grand hall, engrossed in your book. Tara lounges sprawled out in front of the hot flames leaping about in the fireplace.

You twitch, jolted by a light kiss placed on the top of your head.

“Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“You could make some sort of noise when you move about, you know.”

Astarion cocks his head, “I could… but where is the fun in that?”

He sits in the heavily padded chair across from you with a cunning smile on his roguishly handsome face.

Gods. He really is something else, isn’t he?

“You delight in scaring people?”

“Darling, I’m a vampire. It’s in my nature.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

“Very funny.”

Astarion leans forward and eyes you raptly. The ambient light increases the cardinal lustre of his red eyes. Striking shadows cast bewitchingly over his debonair expression. A small half smile quirks up one side of his lips.

You cock your head at him, “What?”

“Come out with me tonight.”

You close the book, “Do you need help with something?”

“No, darling. I want to take you out… on a date.”

“A date?”

“Yes. Allow me to court you.”

“Court me?” You giggle, “You sound old.”

He chuckles, “Love, I AM old.”

“What would we go do?”

“Go to a tavern, go on a crime spree, rob someone. The possibilities are endless really.”

You nod, “Okay.”

“Truly?”

“You sound surprised. Did you expect me to say no?”

His finger comes to his lips, “Last I checked, friends don’t go on dates.”

I have let my misery shackle me for far too long. I’m sick of being afraid.

“They don’t,” you say bluntly, “But there’s something you must do first.”

“Anything.”

“You owe Tara warm milk.”

Astarion sags in his chair with a loud groan.

Tara’s head pops up, eyes suddenly alert, and her tail vibrates happily straight into the air, “It’s about time, vampire!”

He points at Tara, “This is your fault.”

You beam an angelic smile at him, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Go get ready. I’ll warm the…,” he pauses, “Tressym, her bloody milk.”

“A man of his word.”

He lowers a haughty glower at you, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile, “Go.”

You trot up the long staircase to your bedroom giddily. Butterflies carouse in your stomach and your heart flutters in tempo with the beating of their wings.

A date? We’ve been out countless times together, but Astarion has never asked me on an actual date.

You slip into a yellow, body-hugging sheathe dress with long sleeves. The delicate fabric is adorned by an embroidered dragon twirling from your chest, down your back and around your midsection. You pick a dress with a high neck to cover the fresh bite marks gracing your skin. Checking the mirror, you comb your hair and freshen your makeup before going downstairs.

You hear Tara scold Astarion, “It’s not warm enough, vampire.”

You have to stifle a laugh as you walk into the kitchen. Astarion is standing with the bowl of milk in 1 hand, and his other is pressed against his forehead, lamenting exasperation, as Tara stares at him scathingly through narrowed eyes.

“Having trouble?”

He hits you with an impatient look that slowly dissolves as his eyes explore you from head to toe and back again.

His mouth drops open, “You look exquisite.”

You giggle, soaking in his praise, “Let me help you with that.”

You slip the bowl of milk from his hand as he stands there in stunned rapture.

Fire springs to life in your palm, and you hover the bowl just above the licking blaze, warming the milk quickly. Placing the bowl on the ground, Tara starts to lap the warm milk with happy, resounding purrs.

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“You’re gawking.”

“Right. Apologies.” He bows shallowly, “Shall we go?”

“Lead on.”

You and Astarion stroll through the dozing city. The streets are dimly lit by tall lanterns burning in precise increments on each side of the thoroughfare. You’re thankful this night feels warmer than most, or maybe it’s just your feverish excitement keeping the cold at bay.

You banter back and forth while you make your way into the center of nightlife here in Waterdeep. The walk is long, which takes longer as you and him stroll casually, enjoying each other's company.

The stars shine brightly overhead and flicker captivatingly as you stare at them. You feel Astarion’s hand bump up against you. You smile as his hand slides into yours, and your fingers interlock.

“I can’t believe you had me warm milk for that cat.”

“You threw a pillow at the TRESSYM.”

He huffs, “She was thumping about in my room!”

“I don’t see the problem. You warmed her milk the other night, did you not?”

He nods, “I did.”

“Why?”

“I needed her to deliver a message to a lovely, fiery sorceress. She needed convincing.”

“Why ask her to deliver the message at all?”

“I did not want you to think I ran off again.”

Oh…

He kisses the back of your hand, “You know this city better than I do. Where should we go get ourselves into trouble?”

You flash him a wicked smile, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, intriguing.”

“This way.”

You walk hand-in-hand, leading him through the winding avenues until you’re standing in front of the tavern called The Grinning Lion.

“This certainly looks upscale.”

“This is where the nobles come to overindulge. I want to play our game.”

His eyes widen in surprise, a devious grin stretches across his face, and he drags you, giggling, into the tavern.

The tavern is busy, as it was most nights. The walls are adorned with dark, heavily lacquered wood panelling. Opulent scones decorate them, casting their softly rocking illumination. Cabinets of obviously fraudulent battle trophies line the walls. Finely dressed nobles, patriars, and other well-off citizens pack the crowded room. They hoot and holler, calling out lascivious jeers.

Astarion smiles fiendishly, “Oh yes, this will do nicely.”

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back, and he leans close, “What would you like to drink?”

“Something hard.”

“Someone is feeling adventurous tonight. Find us a table. I’ll get the drinks.”

You nod to him and start to meander your way through the befuddled crowd. You turn your head slightly, but not enough to look at him.

Under your breath, you whisper, “And Astarion… Red jacket, blue piping, unsightly hat, greying beard.”

You weave your way through the throng, getting bumped into from time to time by some roaring drunk noble stumbling about. Finding a small table in a dim corner, you sit in the overtly pretentious chair and scan the rambunctious room.

It isn’t long before Astarion walks up and slides your drink over to you. You pick it up and take a small sip. Elquesstria, imported from Evereska - your favourite. He hits you with a striking, playful smile.

You lean back in your chair, “Did you manage?”

“What do you think?”

You hear the recognizable jingle of coin, and he smirks at you with a guileful expression, “We should endeavour to thank him before we retire.”

You giggle, taking another long sip of the succulent liquor. This was a game you and he had invented purely for amusement. You’d pick a mark for him, and he would relieve them of their coin or whatever else was in their pockets.

You point him towards progressively more difficult marks, trying to give him a challenge. If he successfully picks the pocket of every target, he wins; if you point him at someone and he either declines or gets caught, you win. The prize was whatever you two decided on after.

You have never won.

He was too good, an expert Rouge through and through, with centuries of practice and mastery of his skills behind him. His stealth and dexterity are unmatched.

You finish your glass in long gulps when you see the waitress heading for your table. Her eyes graze over Astarion, and her hips start to sway lewdly back and forth. She straightens herself elegantly and tugs on her shirt, revealing more of her ample cleavage. You stop yourself from groaning.

And it starts already.

The waitress puts her hand on the table, leaning close to him, closer than she needs to, “Can I get you something, Saer?”

He glances at your empty drink and orders you another. She nods curtly at him, “And for yourself?”

“Nothing for me.”

He stares straight past her, watching the crowd, and she huffs in frustration and stomps away. You can feel the alcohol going to your head already, and you giggle at her vexation with his complete dismissal of her transparent flirtation.

He cocks a brow at you and leans in, “What?”

Surely, he noticed that, right?

“Nothing.”

“Alright, love. Who is next on your hit list?”

Your finger idly taps the table, and you keep your eyes focused on him, “Light blue shirt, short blonde hair, ugly shoes.”

He nods, “You remember how to play well.”

It was something he had taught you so that you didn’t rouse suspicion. Scan the crowd, but don’t stare at any one person for too long. Pick a mark and watch from your peripheral vision to pick out the details if more are needed.

“I had a good teacher.”

Astarion sips his drink, “The best,” he winks, “I’ll be right back.”

He gets up from his chair and scans his surroundings, no doubt planning his route.

You keep your voice quiet. His sharp ears will hear you even in this raucous commotion, “Astarion.”

He hesitates but doesn’t look at you. He lowers his head and straightens his jacket - a signal to you that he’s listening.

“And the waitress.”

Astarion strides away into the crowd, and you keep your eyes cast down at the table. You want to watch him, but you know that would make it far too obvious. If someone were to notice your intense gaze following him, it would hamper his ability to slink through the rabble.

The waitress reappears and sets your drink down with a loud thud. She looks around, obviously looking for your earth-shatteringly handsome company, and then slaps you with a catty half-smile.

You look at her with the sweetest smile you can muster, “Thank you.”

She takes off with a huff and vanishes. You shake your head, laughing to yourself.

My jealous streak is alive and well, it seems.

Taking another long draw of your drink, you savour the slight burn as it slides down your throat. Your limbs start to tingle, and your inhibitions dwindle. You settle into this moment comfortably without fear and insecurity gnawing at you.

Astarion dodges around a particularly inebriated man awkwardly lumbering and takes his seat gracefully beside you. He grabs his drink and takes another small sip.

“The waitress hardly seemed a worthy target.”

You rest your head on your hand, “Is this your way of telling me you lost?”

He scoffs, “Hardly. A mere observation. I’m curious, why her?”

“She was stripping you with her eyes. I thought it only fair you strip her of her coin.”

His eyes meet yours, and he smirks, “You’re a merciless, jealous thing, aren’t you?”

Taking another gulp of your drink, you smile and shrug at him innocently.

“If you keep drinking like that, the night will be over far too quickly, darling.”

You bring your hand to your chest dramatically, “Are you insinuating I can’t hold my liquor, Astarion?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to carry you home.”

“Unlikely to be the last too.”

He chuckles, “Promises. Promises.”

You glance around the room, “Enlighten me, Astarion. Who would be the hardest mark here?”

His eyebrow cocks, “Asking me to give away trade secrets now? How very bold.” He smirks, sipping his drink, “I’m not sure I should. I do want to win, after all. I have my prize all picked out and everything.”

You drain your glass. You know that look and the suggestion intonation along with it.

The waitress appears at Astarion’s side with a bright grin and a tempestuous, sultry gaze, “Can I refresh that for you, Saer?”

She doesn’t even look your way, let alone meet your eyes, and you feel your palm warm with the unmistakable heat of your envy physically manifesting. You can’t help yourself, and you scoff out loud at her.

Astarion keeps a keen eye on you, ignoring her proximity to him, “Another drink for my wife.”

He takes your hand, placing an affectionate kiss across your knuckles. You sputter, nearly choking on the air, and the heat emanating from your palm retreats with the rush of astonishment.

His wife... Gods, why does that sound so good?

The waitress shoots herself upright, her face flushes, and she backs away from him swiftly, “Right away, Saer.”

She scurries off in an uncoordinated hurry. You would laugh had you not been staring at him in bewilderment.

“Your wife?”

“Don’t worry, friend, you’re all but green with envy, not to mention that twitchy palm of yours. I thought you might enjoy seeing her flounder.”

You stare at him, mystified. The spirits make your head feel fuzzy, and your heart feels like it’s shot up and lodged in your throat. Your thoughts revolve dizzyingly.

The waitress returns and plunks your glass in front of you with a fake smile. He nods to her curtly, and she hurries back off.

You grab your glass and swallow several big sips, draining half of it, before returning it to the table.

Astarion looks around, anxiously glancing away from you and back, “Did I overstep?”

Your voice comes out in a breathy sigh, “No.”

He smiles, “I do not often see you lost for words. What’s going on in your head?”

“Nothing, just…” you shake your head, trying to get a hold of yourself, “Nothing. You were about to enlighten me before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Was I?”

You find your confidence, “Yes, I believe you mentioned something about trade secrets.”

“Oh no, darling,” he tuts, “I mean to win tonight.”

“Consider the game won.”

“I win?”

You nod, “If you teach me what a Rogue looks for.”

“And my prize?”

“We can discuss that on the way back.”

“Deal.”

Astarion reaches over, grabs the spindly leg of your chair, and drags it across the floor until you’re right beside him. He leans in close, and you inhale his intoxicating scent.

“Do you see the man sitting at the large round table in the middle of the room? Tan shirt, sweat stains, grotesquely stiff moustache?”

You quickly scan the room, not allowing your eyes to linger too long on any particular area, “The large man?”

He nods, “The very one.”

You look at him quizzically and tilt your head just enough to see the man in your peripherals, searching for reasons he would be the toughest mark here. All you can make out is that he is stationary, and due to his location in the room, a number of people are huddled around him.

“Care to elaborate?”

Astarion’s eyes are full of beaming delight. He always did love teaching you his craft, even if you were terrible at it. It makes your heart leap.

“Tell me what you see.”

“He’s in the middle of the room, naturally where most of the people congregate, and he doesn’t move from his chair often, if at all.”

“Very good, darling,” he purrs, “he’s in the pathway for the waiters and waitresses, meaning they check in with him most often. The counter is in front of him, so there’s always someone observing. There’s also an oil lamp on the beam to the left that brightens the area, which, naturally, people will gravitate to.”

You nod your understanding and wait for him to continue.

“As you so astutely observed, he doesn’t move often - in the dark, that would be an advantage, but not in well-lit areas. Also, his coat and pants are rather… tight,” his face twists in disgust, “and wet. I don’t have to explain that one to you, surely.”

You giggle at the revulsion twisting his face, levelling a challenging glare at him, “Are you saying you couldn’t do it?”

He snickers, “With time and patience, anything can be done, but I would not touch that man if he had all the coin in Faerûn. He’s positively sodden. I can smell him from here.”

“Even if it meant you would lose?”

“For you, my dear, I would do anything, but surely you don’t mean to go back on our deal?”

You polish off your drink, “No. I am a woman of my word. You win… for tonight.”

“Good. Shall we go? I fear the walk back will take us until sunrise as you stumble about.”

“You have no faith in me, Astarion. I would always cast Fly.”

He snickers at you, “You would likely Fly straight into a building.”

You can’t help but laugh.

He’s probably right.

“I’ll go settle up.”

You nod, “I’ll wait for you outside. I’m not sure how much more obnoxious yelling I can handle.”

“Don’t stray too far, love.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grins and departs, once again lost to the crowd. You twist your way through the unruly horde and let yourself out. The crisp night air feels refreshing in your lungs, and you drink in it. The tavern air felt unnaturally warm, carrying the sour fragrance of stale spirits and body odour.

Chilled by the breeze, you cross your arms over yourself and wander a little way towards the street.

“My wife.”

You hear Astarion’s voice in your head and smile to yourself giddily. Perhaps it’s the liquor influencing you, but you finally feel like you’re ready to stop running from him, from yourself, and your feelings. You hope you wake up in the morning with the same unwavering resolve.

The unsteady slapping of hard-soled boots on the pavement wrests you out of your hazy thoughts.

“Saer, I thought that was you.”

With a cringe, you turn and see a heavily wavering man. He looks almost like a sapling tree caught in a high wind as he sways from one side to the other on his feet, stumbling to keep his balance.

“Aldous.”

Small Notes:

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. It gives me the confidence to keep posting, and I am grateful for the support!

I am SO tempted to write more date nights for Tav because this was incredibly fun!

AO3: [Cross-Posted]

Chapter Master List - Shadows of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

#astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #shadows of the past

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