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#thank you for feeding us this wonderful meal ><
makololpop · 7 months
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just played the waterborne poetry event and i'm scREAMINGGGG
hyv loves xiaolumi i swear !!!
i love them so muchhhhh 🥹💖
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fangswbenefits · 3 months
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Comfortable
Summary: Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Fluff. Aftercare. Oral sex. Pillow humping. Innuendo. Mentions of masturbation.
Word count: 3.3k
It's a wavering sequence of whimpers that catches Astarion's attention just as he arrives at camp after a late night hunt.
The blood on non thinking creatures seldom presents itself as a decent meal, but he finds it unfair to depend exclusively on you.
The boars in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are delectable enough to blind his hunger for a few hours – maybe a full day, if need be.
The camp seems peaceful and quiet with everyone still catching some rest after in their respective tents, and as the pale moon glows up high in the dark blue sky, he notices the dawn isn't breaking for at least a few more hours.
Maybe he can indulge in a trance to ease his mind and body after feeding, even though it's not a dire necessity.
But it seems that the night has other plans reserved for him.
His steps are light and sure, following the crescendo of sounds that seems to come from near his tent.
He would recognise that voice anywhere.
You.
As he draws near, trying to make out the origin of said whimpers, he vaguely wonders if you're having a dream.
That is the most reasonable explanation.
But then he hears what resembles a muffled groan.
A nightmare?
Instinctively, an eyebrow quirks as he approaches your tent.
And then he freezes.
Even through the obvious failed attempt at reining yourself in, he knows exactly what he heard.
His name. Muffled and barely intelligible, but his name, nonetheless.
An amused smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him that you are indeed pleasuring yourself. Risky and unexpected, but beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Cheeky…
He could simply entertain this, and leave it to you to reach your peak on your own.
Unfortunately for him, he has just fed.
And unfortunately for you, he has every intention of interrupting your solo endeavour.
His usual cool body now flooded with the warmth and vigour that make it extremely easy not to succumb to your sweet and melodic whimpers.
As such, he tugs at the strings that hold both flaps together, successfully drawing a surprised gasp from you.
“You scared me!” 
He finds you propped up on one elbow before rushing to sit and pulling a blanket to cover yourself, a mortified look splattered across your face.
The sight in front of him is enough for the recently drunk blood to rush downwards at record speed. 
Predictable, but such is the nature of his body when it comes to you.
Flustered and quickened breaths. His senses are so sharp from the recent blood intake, that he can hear your heartbeat drumming fast in your chest.
By now, he knows you well enough.
So well, that he's sure he has just interrupted your climax.
The confirmation comes in the form of a low growl of frustration.
He almost feels sorry for you, but what crosses his mind is the offer of a moment of pleasure so great only he can provide.
“You were close.”
It isn't a question and he doesn't expect an answer.
But you're so visibly irritated that you scowl deeply. “Yes! Yes, I was. Thank you so much for interrupting.”
“My pleasure,” he retorts, knowing fully well he's about to set off a bomb if he doesn't choose his words carefully.
You have a temper he adores to test. He's used to dancing to your tune and knows exactly which strings to pull to get you riled up in ways that often lead to very enjoyable outcomes.
His cock welcomes your huff of annoyance with a faint twitch.
“Why didn’t you just… wait…” you almost cry out in sheer frustration.
He lets out a taunting laugh. “What, and miss out on all of the fun, darling?”
A dramatic pout settles your lips and it takes all of his self-control not to wipe it off your face with a kiss in an instant.
“How many did you take this time?”
It is a glaring taunt.
And your mouth drops open.
Maybe he should have eased his way in, considering the current predicament.
But the way your body is all flustered and heated from your own touch is enough to flare desire inside him. And whenever desire begins to swell inside him, the fine line between reason and pleasure begins to blur. 
Mostly because he knows he was the one on your mind when you had your fingers deep inside you.
Your eyes widen slowly, and you clutch the blanket closer to your lower half, still hiding the proof of your arousal from his prying eyes.
You don't reply at first, your pride keeping you silent.
But Astarion doesn't mind. In fact, he enjoys your resistance at first. Makes it all the more enjoyable when you finally give in.
“How many, darling?”
You frown, averting your eyes.
So stubborn…
His cock adores it.
“How many?” his tone is firmer this time and you slowly meet his eyes again.
“... two.”
He clicks his tongue, crouching before you. “Oh, darling…” 
Two fingers are not nearly enough to provide the fullness and stretch that only his cock can. But he appreciates your effort nonetheless.
It's quite adorable and enough to have his cock hardening even more.
Your fingers still glisten in the faint candlelight and he feels the sudden urge to have them in his mouth. He never tires of tasting you in more ways than one.
“You do not need to hide from me,” he says tenderly, but still not moving an inch. He wants you to feel comfortable enough under his gaze. “You've bared yourself to me many times, love.”
Still, you don't let go of the fabric, a slash of defiance crossing your face. “You took too long.”
Ah. “Did you miss me?”
You bite your lip, face softening as you nod twice.
And you were so desperate for him that you just couldn't wait?
Gods.
His cock stirs even more against his trousers at the silent realisation.
“And I am here now,” he says, dropping to his knees, as a wicked smile turns his lips. “So, allow me.”
He reaches out with his hand to tug at the fabric, silently looking for your permission.
A shaky sigh parts your lips and he spots a shiver as he pulls the blanket that keeps you from him.
His eyes drop to the sweet spot between your legs and he almost regrets having interrupted you.
Almost.
Your clit is so swollen it deliciously peeks from between your folds, parting them gently. It throbs faintly as he catches your clenching a few times, wetness dripping out.
After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring the twitches of protest from his cock.
He finds your half-hooded eyes. “May I?”
You hesitate at first, nearly pressing your thighs together, but he stops you with both hands on your knees, a reassuring grip that has you slowly but surely loosen up under his touch.
“You don't have to…”
No, he doesn't.
But he wants to.
In fact, he thinks he needs to.
He rubs circles along your flushed skin, wanting your full attention on him before he speaks, “I appreciate the concern, darling, but I'm impossibly hard and you look incredibly delectable.”
It's more than enough to have you yearning for more, as a surprise gasp parts your lips.
You finally nod, spreading your legs and leaning back as you settle on your elbows.
He offers a sly grin, lowering and positioning himself right where he craves to be.
But not before he eases some of the growing tension on his lower half. The blood coursing through his body is more of an inconvenience for now, and he's sure, under different circumstances, he'd have better control over this.
Or maybe not.
Maybe you're just that good for him.
You jerk slightly when his mouth draws near your slick folds.
“Wait.”
And he does, his concentration slightly shaken as he promptly scans your face for any cause for alarm.
“Just… don't leave afterwards.”
Don't leave–
Astarion's lips are so close to your clit, he has to pull back slightly so he can have a proper look at you, his hardened cock still straining against his undergarments.
“What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed. 
There is hesitance in your eyes. “You tend to leave after… like you don't want to be here with me.”
That sounds like a whiplash to him, because it is not true at all.
Your words take him by surprise  and he immediately worries he may have said or done something that could be interpreted as mixed signals.
“Darling, I–”
But you immediately shake your head. “If you can stay after… I'd appreciate it. Only you want to, of course,” you quickly add. “It doesn't feel right otherwise…”
It isn't a request. Nor a plea.
It's just what feels right.
He's done this many times to the point of instinct. It comes natural to him to please others. The aftermath, though, is something that he's also used to forgoing. The mess, the sweat, the fluids… the unnecessary and forced talk…
But you are different, aren't you?
You are not… the others.
And after all you've been through, he feels his mind nearly snap in half as he realises just how much he's still holding back with you.
Even something as simple as just staying still felt… tainted.
Slowly, he nods. 
And slowly, your lips turn into a tender smile that he's grown to adore beyond comprehension.
“I'll stay.”
You heave a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Astarion counters the impromptu detour with unmatched expertise, lowering his head and admiring just how eager your body is for him.
Before he drags his tongue along your folds, he slithers his hand down to reach for the front of his trousers, hurriedly undoing them.
It's his turn to sigh in relief as his cock is set free.
But now he misses the friction and the carpeted floor of your tent feels too rough.
His eyes roam around in search of something – anything – more comfortable.
And then he's caught off guard by your offer.
“Maybe this will help.”
A pillow.
He chuckles deviously, appreciating your creativity in moments such as these. Promptly, he takes it in his hand and positions it under him, his cock welcoming the soft surface.
“I adore that mind of yours,” he says cheekily.
You are about to voice a reply, but no word comes out when his tongue hits your entrance. 
Immediately, your hips buck and his smile never wavers.
He knows what you crave, but he will take his time even if you're already close to the edge.
After all, he's addicted to his devotion to you even if he never utters it out loud. He prefers his actions speak for themselves. Words are treacherous and deceiving. Actions speak louder.
And so he indulges in you. He indulges you, because that is what keeps him from reaching the frayed ends of his mind. 
You're what grounds him these days.
And he will ground you with him.
As such, he drags the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness and he only stops once it finds your clit.
A soft moan escapes your lips and he hopes you have it in you to keep it down so as to not wake the others. 
He locks eyes with you one last time. “Are you ready, darling?”
Your hips roll twice, but he knows you're not ready. You never are for the pleasure he offers to you so passionately. 
Another roll and he knows you're growing impatient, so he gives your clit a quick swipe of his tongue before he latches.
He doesn't begin suckling hard right away, as he needs to ensure he can steady you for what's to come. Both arms loop around your thighs and he allows his eyes to flutter shut, losing himself in you.
It amazes him how your body responds to him, and your hips try to find a desperate rhythm as if you're riding his cock.
The pillow under him provides enough friction for him to roll his own hips, eager to match your tempo.
He could feel the wetness drenching the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care.
Your hand finds his curls and he growls against your clit as you tug gently, but evidently craving more.
And more he gives you.
He's sucking more fiercely this time, taking his time to savour the swell in between his teeth. From this angle, he can feel your wetness coating his chin. He can't directly feel it, but he just knows you're clenching desperately around nothing.
Maybe he should take it slower.
Maybe he should pry you open with two of his fingers, even though you're wet enough to take a third one.
But the unexpected friction caused by the pillow is begging to edge him beyond belief.
Is it from the blood he drank? Is he just so ridiculously aroused? Why is your clit so swollen this time? Is it from his incessant suckles? 
His mind turns into haze and he decides he's not looking for any logical answers.
He simply allows his hips to move on their own accord, matching the face with each suckle.
“Astarion… Gods…” 
You're fortunate his mouth is kept busy, or he'd hurl a snarky reply. Gods have no place here. The delicacies of carnal bliss are reserved for those who tread the earth.
He's the only one who'd ever worship you, and you'd worship him right back, because that's how it's meant to be.
Precum drips from his tip at an alarming rate. He's too hard. He's too aroused. His body is seeking to be inside yours.
But he decided against it.
No.
He wants to see you unravel for him and in front of him.
His eyes open once again and he takes in the sight of your body undulating. Skin all flushed and eyes read to drop close as you near the precipice.
As always, his latch is impeccable. He never lets go and takes pride in leaving you dripping for him.
A few droplets run down his chin and dangle from it, bestowing upon him the most enticing silent praise he could ask for.
He knows you're close when your fingers close around his curls, desperately rocking your hips against him.
A low growl of approval rumbles in his chest and he's starting to struggle to keep his pace.
He has to find a way to still his hips before you reach your climax in fear you'll drag him along with you far too soon.
And so he does.
This time, he wants to see it.
He wants to see you as you come for him.
He's mostly perplexed that you found a way to muffle your moans, your shirt rolled up and captured in between your teeth, granting him the privileged view of your heaving breasts and hardened nipples.
Momentarily, his hips threaten to buck driven by pure instinct.
But he manages to hold back.
And when he's sure you're too far gone, head tilting back and legs shaking ever so slightly, does he unlatch from your clit.
He pulls back enough to witness the first sets of contractions course through your body. 
Wetness drips from his chin, and he can't tear his gaze from the mesmerising way your entrance clenches rhythmically before him.
He's felt those contractions many times. He is well aware of just how vicious and relentless they can be around his cock, never failing to draw every last drop of his cum deep inside you.
Your muffled cries and the way your hips still momentarily, are all he needs to get lost in his own pleasure again.
He props himself high enough to place his hips at the right angle, rolling them urgently against the soft fabric of the pillow.
He's so close… so deliciously close.
Your taste lingers on his tongue and the vision of you still writhing under him holds his gaze almost painfully.
Your fingers ease on his curls and he feels the familiar tightening of his balls warning him that he's about to reach the point of no return. 
It comes and overtakes his body so violently his mind blanks for a brief moment, as his mouth drops open.
He wants to groan and growl and hiss, but no sound comes out.
The friction is so overwhelming, he can't help but to lose balance, his lips finding your swollen clit once again.
And just like before, he latches instinctively and you try to jerk away from him, definitely being hit with a sting of oversensitivity. 
He comes undone, suckling on you harder than ever before.
Ropes of cum spill from him rhythmically, his own contractions taking over. He can feel the fabric underneath him drench with each thrust, and he vaguely wonders how much of it he still has left in him.
Your clit is now the only thing grounding him as he rides out his climax and, in the far corner of his hazy mind, he's thankful that you eased into him once again, granting him the solace he is seeking so desperately.
There's only so much he can withstand as his senses are flooded with overwhelming pleasure, and he finds himself unlatching and almost slumping against your lower abdomen.
He's spent.
Utterly spent.
He thinks he hears a tender giggle, but maybe it's simply his mind playing tricks on him.
With effort, he hoists himself along your body, collapsing, the side of his face resting against your stomach.
He wants to say something, but he's rendered silent by the aftershock of his climax.
And that's when he feels your fingers again, raking along his scalp and through unruly curls. 
“Are you leaving?”
He says nothing.
Your fingertips work their magic along his skin and he's sure you can lull him into a trance if you so wished. 
You're too powerful and he's too in love with you to care.
“Astarion.”
Your voice is low and sweet and he hums in return, arm wrapped around your waist.
“Can we stay like this for a while?”
Who's he to deny you of it? Or himself?
He's sweaty and his cock drenched in cum and precum and you're a mess yourself. Hardly the epitome of romance.
Or maybe he's wrong because when you bring a soft piece of cloth to his temple and drag it along his face, he suddenly gets it.
He finally understands why you want him to stay.
Why it makes sense.
His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your tenderness and adoration. 
You hum a soft tune under your breath, cleaning him up.
Face and neck first.
“Can you shift higher?” you ask.
He realises your intentions and lifts his head to stare at you.
“You don't have to.”
All you do is offer him a smile. Your smile. “I want to. Allow me, lover.”
No one has ever taken care of him. No one has ever bothered to. Not until you. 
He silently does what you asked, too stunned to come up with a clever tease.
His eyes flutter shut in what comes close to embarrassment. For some reason, he feels more exposed than ever when you wrap the cloth around his cock.
“Tell me if it gets too much,” you say, your voice but a whisper.
He immediately shakes his head. “Not with you.”
A hiss parts his lips as you tenderly take care of him.
Astarion rests his head just above your breast and 
“Do you wish to talk?” he asks.
Your lips find their way through his damp curls, placing a kiss atop his head.
“Do you want to?”
He chuckles, feeling his cock soften in your hand – definitely a first. “I fear I'm too drained to do so.”
“Silence it is,” you say and he feels your warm breath against his skin.
Not just any silence.
Comfortable silence.
The rare type old romance books mention in passing and that many seek to no avail.
But he's found it because he's found you.
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csainzoperator · 5 months
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yummy: LN4 ☆
summary: y/n is a chef in the mclaren hospitality who is famous for her fabulous recipies. everyone is head over heels for her recipies, and a certain someone is most definitely more than head over heels. but not just for the food.
(lando norris x fem!reader)
read more under the cut!
itsmey/n has posted!
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another day at work! for the british gp, their special "sticky toffee pudding" was a success :)
tagged: landonorris and oscarpiastri
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 76,123 others.
landonorris it was so yum (she fed us the so called desert forcefully after giving us a 4 course meal)
- oscarpiastri you're such an ungrateful brat. it was great, bestie itsmey/n
- itsmey/n thank you pastry, and lando...i might leave you to starve to death.
lewishamilton i would kill for a pudding rn! you should drop by merc hospitality y/n!
- mclaren look at you trying to steal our goddamn chef....
f1wagsss oh my god you're so pretty
landonorris has posted!
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P2 AT HOME RACE BABY!! so proud of the team to be finishing at P2 and P4. also special thanks to y/n for feeding us well :)
tagged: oscar piastri and itsmey/n
liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55, itsmey/n and 872,182,283 others.
landonorizz are we gonn ignore the fact that y/n just made it to a lando post???
lechaaair OH Y/N FEEDS US TOO. SHE SERVES ALL THE DAMN TIME. MOTHER 🙏🏼🙏🏼
itsmey/n its literally my job tho...?
- oscarpiastri some people are bad at their job. he's appreciating you for being good. (lando you fr have no rizz man)
carlaando lando are you trynna make a move GN
- landonowinss BROS PROBABLY REGRETTING RN 💀
(time skip!)
it was the hungarian gp. you were in the mclaren hospitality. the mclaren kitchen was quite big, and your co-workers were extremely sweet. you mainly cooked for the drivers and mechanics, while guiding the others. you were tasting a dish when you feel a presence behind you. you immediately recognise who it is.
"what is it now, lando?" you ask with a knowing smile on your face. he sits down on the counter beside you and watches you as you work. "i was wondering if you would like to, maybe, just maybe, come outside with me and sit down and talk and get some food you know?" he blabbers
"are you asking me out on a date?" you tease him. "well, yeah. only if you want it to be. its okay if you say no" he says with a sad smile on his face. you cup his face with one of your hands and give his cheeks a squeeze. "ofcourse i'll come, dumbass. now shoo, let me work. you're too distracting"
the smug smile he has on his face makes you blush. "so i am distracting huh? what else am i? you can give me details when we go on that date" he winks at you and walks off. you just simply shake your head in amusement.
the date goes well. to be honest, more than well. you both have the most fun ever. lando is everything that you craved. he was the sweetest boy. day by day, meal by meal, both of you started talking more, discovering each other. one fine night, in his apartment in london, where you taught him how to bake his favourite cake, he surprises you by asking you to be his girlfriend. you say yes without hesitation. you knew he wasn't going to play around with your heart.
it was the brazilian gp. lando had placed P2 again! you were the proudest girlfriend to exist, and the happiest. you were just so incredibly proud as he was doing so good this year.
itsmey/n has posted!
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brazil you were brilliiianttt <3 liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris and 92,233 others.
f1wags HOLD UP. SOFT LAUNCHING????
oscarpiastri yuck i hate being around the hospitality now.
landonorris 🌟
- carlandodod PLS IM NOT OK WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.
- leclercvc oh. my. god. guys. i think its lando and y/n.
f1gosssip apparently some people saw looking for his "girlfriend" after the race, and some people even saw him kissing a girl in the mclaren garage! we hope its y/n 😫
y/nfannn MOTHER WHO IS THAT
landonorris has posted!
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brazil with bae. thank you team for making the P2 happen! more to come.
p.s i don't believe in soft launches. she let me hard launch after 8 races 🖐🏼
tagged: itsmey/n and mclaren
liked by mclaren, itsmey/n, charles_leclerc and 827,123,12 others.
oscarpiastri GAG
carlandooo MAMA Y PAPA
carlossainz55 finally mate! congrats :)
maxverstappen1 lando isn't a kid anymore
f1wags OFFICIALLY OUR FAV WAG (with lily obv)
itsmey/n i love you, baby! super proud <3
- landonorris i love YOU. so much. so much.
paddockclubb 8 RACES?? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON OMG
the end ♡
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gremlingottoosilly · 22 days
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Kidnapper!konig with reader watching a documenter about her own mysterious disappearance or "death" on netlfix
Konig allows you to use the microwave to make popcorn without being watched over - it's progress. Usually, when you are allowed in the kitchen(mostly when he really falls into the domestic fantasy and wants you to play housewife, he would always watch you, never letting you as much as to pick up a fork without his knowledge. You understand the sentiment - you're still kidnapped, Stockholm syndrome be damned - and he doesn't trust you yet. Still, the action of making popcorn all on your own is a small victory of your independence. You like it. He prepares the couch for your weekly movie night - it's weird to have your kidnapper be so nice to you, but you already know that the guy craves routine. He needs you to be his girlfriend while also kinda being his mommy and a sex toy and housewife all at the same time - so, you have movie nights, crazy sex where you can punch him in the face and moan as he rearranges your organs, and occasional cookouts where you have to make him dinner that could probably feed at least 10 people. You curl down next to him, allowing the guy who kidnapped and broke your legs to hug you. He still smells like blood - probably one of his less fortunate victims, always screaming down in the basement and messing up with your sleep. You tried to tell yourself that it's not your fault you were the one to gain his affection, that it's not like you wanted to be the favorite plaything of a maniac, but it's futile. You're the one who is getting fed nice foods, sleeps in the same bed as him, and gets his tongue buried in your cunt like it's the last meal he ever got. You hate yourself for caving to his whims so easily, but he drops his hand over your shoulder and passes some of the really good snacks that you like so much. You throw him a quick thanks as he turns on the TV.
You thought they wouldn't do a documentary about your mysterious disappearance so soon - you thought it wasn't even a year since Konig took you in, but, apparently, it was. Time is weird when he threw away all the clocks in the house and didn't let you out of the bedroom until last month. You watch the documentary, wondering if it's a weird loyalty test. If he thinks you're going to be angry at him for showing you this. It's been so long since you were free that you don't even remember what freedom tastes like. Konig passes you the popcorn as you snuggle and watch all the possible causes of your mysterious death. You feel a hand grasping your thigh, playing with the soft flesh and slowly creeping to your pussy - you're not allowed any underwear under the shirt he gave you. You just stare at the TV screen, allowing him to use your pussy as an antistress toy. Journalists don't even get a single point right.
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euphemiaamillais · 4 months
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playing dangerous pt 2 - coriolanus snow 🎀
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coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.
cw: 18+//kidnapping//eventual stockholm syndrome//mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation//emotional manipulation//mentions of sex/sexual harassment
part 1 is here
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you wake to the sunlight streaming through the french doors the next morning. your head is pounding, not doubt from the posca. while it had sent you into a dreamless sleep, you can feel a throbbing hangover coming on. there is little noise in the house, nothing but your breathing gracing your ears, and for a moment you forget where you were.
but when you feel the restraint around your wrist, you remember that you were in some strange man’s apartment, subject to his every whim. which, so far, you were thankful, had only been eating the food he’d brought you.
the door opens, and he comes in baring more food. this time, an assortment of spreads and toast. at least he has the decency to feed you well, though you can’t help but wonder if the food is laced with poison. you’re too starving to think too much about it though.
‘good morning,’ he grins, a positively psychopathic gaze in his eyes. he sets the tray down, and presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘did you sleep well, darling?’
you shudder at the pet name. ‘well, my wrist really hurts,’ you pout, wondering if he will be swayed by your wide eyes. ‘do you think you could loosen the restraint?’
you’re also aware of your bladder pressing against your stomach, full from last night’s posca, and you’re reminded of how desperately you need to go.
‘once you’ve eaten,’ he promises, and turns to start buttering the toast. the sweet aroma of jams and spreads fills your nose, your mouth watering. ‘what would you like, princess?’
you glance at the array, and decide on a thick pot of strawberry jam. you’d eat that every morning at home, with a cup of tea. alas, there only seems to be a very milky cup of coffee on the tray, but it’s better than nothing.
‘strawberry jam, please,’ you offer a smile, and he begins to spread the confiture across the golden toast. it does look delicious.
‘there you go,’ he hands you the toast. he’s even sliced it into little triangles, worried that you won’t be able to eat it in such big slices, seeing as you’re just so delicate.
he watches you eat it up like it’s your last meal, surprisingly ravenous for a girl your size. your tongue glides over some of the jam, and he feels his hands clench as you do so. it’s so seductive, even though you mean it with complete innocence. he can’t help but think of you doing that as you suck his cock, pink tongue gliding over the aching tip of his shaft…
‘thank you,’ you offer, seeing how he eyes you.
he hands you the cup of coffee, a little embarrassed that it’s so milky—he was distracted by the thought of you, waiting for him in that room, that he’d poured too much in. you accept it, a little disgusted by the bitter taste—you were never one for coffee—but down it with a forced smile on your face.
‘good girl,’ he coos, placing one hand on your thigh. ‘you’re so good to me, don’t you know that?’
he looks crazed, blue eyes glistening with insanity, praising you in spite of only knowing you for what, twenty-four hours? you wonder if your parents have thought to go looking for you. your mother is probably weeping. your stomach churns at the thought.
‘would i, uh, please be able to use the bathroom,’ you are clenching your legs together in desperation, bladder throbbing with need.
he tilts his head, but sees the way you gnaw at your lips. he can’t have you wetting yourself again, now that would just be humiliating.
‘alright. but you’ll have to let me in there with you,’ he admits, and you cast him an exasperated look.
‘no!’ your eyes swell up in mortification. ‘please, it’s so… embarrassing…’
he sighs, moving his hand further up your thigh, fiddling with the hem of your silky slip. ‘if you want to use the bathroom, i’ll need to watch you in case you try to hurt yourself. i can’t have you bleeding out on the tiles…’
he winces a little at the thought of you trying to slit your wrists with his razor, too distraught at the idea of having to be his that you’d rather be welcomed into the arms of death. no, you wouldn’t allow that to happen. you’re his girl.
‘oh..’ your voice trails off. you find it hard to rebut him, you’re so desperate to go. ‘okay.’
you cede all right to him, losing what seemed to be the last bit of your autonomy left. he loosens the restraint, and you clutch your wrist, nursing the nagging ache that has been bothering you all night. you see the french doors, and debate throwing yourself off the balcony. however, it’s foolish. falling that far would be terrifying—worse than a life spent with this man, whatever his name is—and so you follow him as he guides you to the bathroom.
the apartment is more gorgeous than the bedroom. high walled and of black marble, it stretches out across what appears to be the entire floor—and you come to realise that it’s the penthouse. whoever he is, he must have a lot of money. you’re not very interested in politics, but you know president ravenstill has many cronies—perhaps he’s one of them.
the bathroom is cold when you enter, but you’re so desperate to go that you rush to the toilet. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; you look awful. your hair is matted, and you’ve got a few fresh bruises trailing up your arm; pink and purple dots spoiling the skin. you don’t smell great either, and eye the beautiful shower in the corner.
he is watching you like a hawk, and if you weren’t in such a great need to go, you probably wouldn’t have been able to. you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you finish, and go to wash your hands with one of his fancy soaps. when you’re done, you turn to him, a tender look on your face.
‘would i be able to use your shower?’ you ask, biting at your lip. his heart pounds in his chest. his cock stirred a little at the thought of getting to see your naked form. not that he’d fuck you just yet, but the notion that he’d merely get to see you was too much.
‘of course, sweetheart,’ he nods, grabbing two towels from the cupboard by the sink.
you go to turn the faucet, getting splashed a little by the hot water. it feels delicious against your freezing skin, though. you turn back to glance at him, willing him away with your mind, but he remains.
‘would i be able to do it, alone?’ you ask softly, but he shakes his head. your heart drops.
‘i’m sorry princess, you know my rules. i’ve got to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. i couldn’t have that now, could i?’ he asks, tilting his head. you shake yours in response, and more than humiliated, you begin to strip yourself off.
he watches as you pull your slip off, revealing an elegant figure, a perfect ass, and long legs. you shiver, more out of embarrassment than cold, deeply ashamed to be exposing yourself to a man. nobody’s ever seen you this naked before, and you’re shy about the way you look. he’s begging you to turn around so he can see the front of you, but you attempt to manoeuvre yourself so that he can’t see your breasts or other parts.
the water warms your skin, and you toss your head back in delight, feeling it soak your hair and wash away the grimy feeling. you face away from him, and when you have to reach to grab the soap, do your best to move in a way that he can only see your back. it’s the least humiliating way. you’d never thought any man but your husband would see you like this, but clearly, he had other ideas.
coriolanus had to settle his breath in attempt to fight the growing erecetion in his trousers, seeing you so bare was too exciting. he wishes you’d turn around, wondering how pretty your breasts would look, how pink your nipples would be, and if your cunt was as lovely as he’d imagined. he wanted so badly to touch you, to slip his fingers inside of your tight pussy and watch you writhe beneath him. he wondered if you’d ever touched yourself—he doubted you had. you were too innocent for that.
you lather the shampoo in your hair, feeling great relief as you wash your scalp clean. you run your fingers through the mats, wincing a little as they tug. he’s got some lovely smelling soaps, you have to admit, and while you let the shampoo sit, you rub your skin with one that smells like roses. you take care of course to wash between your thighs, embarrassed that you’d supposedly wet yourself the day before, and freshen yourself up with the scent of the rose soap.
soon enough, you’re smelling lovely; it’s potent but in a clean way, the smell pleasant to your nose. you finish washing the shampoo out, and go to scramble for the conditioner when you realise that it’s not there.
‘excuse me,’ you attempt to shout with your back turned to the wall.
‘i can’t hear you, princess. turn around,’ he laughs a little, watching as you squirm, terrified of exposing yourself to him.
‘please, i just want the conditioner,’ you beg, feeling like a pathetic fool, having to plead for something as simple as hair conditioner.
‘you have to turn around for me to give it to you,’ he warns, holding the bottle in his hands.
you sigh, and remembering the knots in your hair, realising you have little choice in whether or not to turn around. you can’t have those clumps getting any worse. so, deeply ashamed, you surrender yourself to him, sliding the shower door open and stretching a hand out.
‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and seeing the cruel look in his eyes, you shake your head, afeared of what he’ll do if you utter something that won’t please him.
‘you’ll learn,’ he warns as you grasp for the bottle, his other hand gripping your wrist before you can move away. ‘that i always get what i want. okay, princess? you can’t just hide yourself from me.’
he brushes your wet hair to one side, fingers trailing down to your bare breast. he doesn’t dare touch you too much, but ghosts his fingers over to remind you that this is his now. you belong to him, whether you decide to obey him or not. he knows you’ll learn to love him soon enough, and be a drooling mess, begging for his cock to fill you up.
‘so pretty,’ he murmurs, and you shudder, feeling cold droplets of water hit your back. the shower is still running, and you’re aching to get back in and finish washing your hair.
he lets you go, but watches you with scrutiny, admiring every footstep you take back to the shower. you’re so beautiful, and all his… how utterly perfect you are. after what had seemed like a lifetime of searching, he’d finally got what he wanted.
now all he had to do was make you his, in body and in heart.
you’d dried off after your shower, and he’d given you a robe to wear because your slip needed to be washed. you feel horribly naked, wishing there was something to wear other than a robe. it would be easy for him to take advantage of you, hands roaming up your robe to caress your thighs, and god knows what else. you’d never been touched by a man before, having only had a few stolen kisses with some of your classmates at the academy, but you were too shy to have let any of them take you.
and besides, your father was insistent that you had remained pure until he found you a suitable husband. preferably one of president ravenstill’s many sons. you got more for a virgin, as disgusting as the notion was. they were a rare commodity in the capitol these days.
once he had tied your restraint back—to your other wrist this time, he really was so kind—he pressed a kiss to your cheek and told you he was going out. you were upset, he hadn’t told you how long he would be, whether or not you were going to be alone for the rest of the day, but you didn’t press further. at least you wouldn’t have to worry about him assaulting you any further. god knows what he’d do if he sat with you, barely clothed, for more than a few minutes.
so, quite bored, you sit and run your mind across who he could possibly be. he’s got an almost familiar face; noble, an aquiline nose and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. he can’t be that much older than you, twenty-two at most. perhaps he was a senior when you were a freshman at the academy? you remember that year well, that girl lucy gray had won, though it you were advised to forget about it, with the threat of dr. gaul turning you into one of her creations if you didn’t comply with the secret-keeping.
you’re sure you went to school together, but you can’t place his name. he’s probably from one of those old families, judging from the fact that he’s got connections with president ravenstill and how his apartment is carved out of fucking marble. your family is wealthy, sure, but you’ve never seen an apartment like this in your life. has he been watching you since your days at the academy? the thought sends a shiver down your spine.
you wonder why he even chose you, of all people? what kind of person would kidnap someone instead of talking to them? he’s obviously got psychopathic tendencies. and he’s mentioned he wants you all for himself—why could he not just have approached you and asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant in town? you would’ve accepted; he’s handsome and wealthy.
there is something brutal about him, you think. some notion of possessing you that makes his blood run hot. he can’t let anybody else have you, it seems, which is why he won’t even let you go free from the room. you’re too scared of death to try anything foolish like suicide, but perhaps if you managed to slit your wrists artfully enough you’d just end up in hospital. your parents would be able to come get you.
if he decides to touch you, you could always cry rape. that’s if the authorities would listen. but from the looks of things, the peacekeepers would do very little, and his connections that he’s mentioned would probably leave him with legal immunity. it’s a hopeless and dire situation.
you find that your face has been stained with tears—you’ve been crying, it seems. you were so caught up in your thoughts that you had hardly noticed how distraught it had made you. your lip trembles when you question whether or not you’ll ever go free. what if he keeps you here forever? what if you’re never able to go outside again, to feel the snow on your cheeks, the sun caressing your neck with its warm rays? it’s too awful to bear.
he returns home in a good mood, and when he opens the door to your room, there’s a smile playing upon his lips. he’s carrying an array of bags, looking almost like the women who spend their hours shopping at the ominous capitol mall. you eye him curiously, wondering if he’s come true on his promise and purchased you something more than a flimsy slip to wear.
he sets them down at the end of the bed, and undoes your restraint, which leaves you feeling more suspicious. it usually takes more convincing than a sad-eyed gaze. you crawl to the bags, your curiosity getting the better of you, and open the largest one.
there’s a lot of pink tissue paper, scented with the potent aroma of lavender, and you pull it out a little carelessly. he sees the joy light up on his face when you pull out the first dress. it’s simple, but you do have to admit, very pretty. it’s made of black satin and is quite short, but it will do—perhaps he intends to let you leave the house after all.
you dig through the rest of the bags, quite pleased with what he’s purchased you. clearly he had somebody help him; while he has good taste for a man, he obviously wouldn’t know much about what you liked in particular. you were grateful for the sweaters and tights, thinking about how frigid it was.
the last bag he pulls out from under his arm. it’s small, and the tissue paper has a familiar scent you recognise; not like the lavender of the other ones, but a more sensuous musky smell. you recall your friends going into that store to buy things to wear for their boyfriends. you shudder thinking of what he could’ve purchased for you.
he slips his hand inside the bag, and pulls out a tiny, silky thing that you’re sure will barely even cover your ass. at least it’s not as blatantly obvious as a lingerie set, but you’re still aware of his intentions.
‘i want you to put this on, now,’ he commands, handing the slip to you. it’s a soft pink, and the hem is edged with chantilly lace. if it wasn’t from him, you probably would’ve actually liked it.
‘do i have to?’ you ask, and are immediately met with a warning glare. you’ve stepped too far—and he hoists you up from the bed.
he grips at the sleeves of your robe, pulling you flush against him. his breath is heavy, and his eyes are brimming with anger. your heart pounds, and you’re certain he can hear it. hear your fear.
‘you will do as i say,’ he seethes, using one hand to undo the tie of the robe, aggressively shoving it off your shoulders.
you shiver, the robe falling to the ground, and you cling to grasp at your breasts, covering yourself up for shame. he grabs the slip, careful not to ruin it, and forces it over your head.
you were right about it being tiny. he stands back and admires you, the way it hardly covers the top of your breasts, leaving little to the eye, and how the hemline comes just under your ass.
‘turn around,’ he says, an awaiting gaze on his face.
you turn, and hear him groan a little, the soft curve of the bottom of your ass sticking out of the slip. he’s so blatant about his desire, dressing you up like a little doll and making you spin for him, showing yourself off to him. it feels unnatural, vain in fact.
‘god, you look so fucking perfect in that,’ he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. you feel something hard pressing against your ass, and try not to let yourself tremble with fear.
‘so pretty, baby,’ he presses a hot kiss to the nape of your neck, lips moving down your collarbone. ‘i could just eat you right up… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
you say nothing, too shocked for words. you feel his teeth graze against your shoulder skin, sucking a soft bruise—marking you as his own.
‘hm? why won’t you speak. i love it when i see your pretty lips tremble around the words. you’re scared, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your skin, but you feel so cold. his hands are like ice.
‘i’m sorry…’ you offer, but he gives your hip a pinch and you cry out.
‘you’re sorry? that’s not good enough. i need to know how thankful you are that i’ve bought you such pretty clothes,’ he scowls.
‘thank you,’ you realise you don’t know his name, and thus the words fall flat.
‘thank you? come on, that’s pathetic, sweetheart,’ he laughs, the sound ringing loud in your ears.
‘i don’t even know your name,’ you attempt to face him, but his hold is so tight that you’re locked in.
‘mhm…’ he sighs. ‘i’m sure if i tell me you’ll remember. we were at the academy together, but you were so small then. probably too afraid of the seniors to say a word.’
your mind flashes back to being fourteen—it’s not that long ago, and yet it feels like a lifetime has passed. his sandy hair and icy blue eyes—of course. he was the mentor of lucy gray… the one who had turned her into such a spectacle. coriolanus snow. you remember now. he disappeared for a few months, sent to 12. you paid little attention to politics, you were too young to care.
‘snow,’ you murmur, and he nods, a proud sound coming from his lips.
‘there you go,’ he coos, stroking your arm. ‘see, you’re not completely stupid? all that babbling and yet you were still able to recall my name.’
you’re so pathetic, he thinks. so stupid that you’ll probably be in love with him soon enough. he thinks about how desperate you’ll be for his cock, begging and whining like a little whore, mouth agape and waiting to receive him. he’s reminded of the hard bulge that’s pressing at your ass, and wonders if it’s too soon to satisfy himself with you.
‘i just can’t wait to have you,’ he whispers in your ear. you feel your stomach churn with terror. ‘can’t believe you’re not even wearing any panties… what a fucking whore. you didn’t even think to put them on.’
he’d bought you many pairs of lace underwear, but you’d left them at the bottom of the bag, too ashamed to even dare putting them on. in hindsight, you only left yourself more vulnerable. there was nothing keeping him from slipping his hand between your legs now.
‘please…’ your lip trembles. ‘i can’t do that.’
your legs shake a little, and he shoves you down on the bed. he stands above you, locking your legs between his thighs, and crosses his arms in disappointment.
‘but i’ve been so good to you,’ he clicks his tongue in displeasure. ‘i bought you all these pretty things… and you won’t even wear them for me!’
‘i’m sorry,’ you plead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. ‘please—i’ve never done anything like that before. i wouldn’t even know what to do!’
a malicious grin plays at his lips. ‘oh, but that’s even better. i can teach you how to please me. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? getting on your knees for me and showing me how well you can take my cock? or perhaps i can take you from behind…’
you squirm, trying to scramble away across the bed, but he pulls you right back to where you’re sitting.
‘shhh, i won’t hurt you, i promise. you’re like a little doll. i couldn’t bear to break you,’ he coos, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. ‘you’ll be good for me, won’t you?’
‘yes,’ you force yourself to reply, the threat of his touches more than enough to get you to obey.
‘yes what?’ he quirks a brow, a warning gaze in his eyes.
‘yes sir,’ you reply, watching as a look of satisfaction crosses his face.
‘such a good girl, hm?’ he sticks a hand between your thighs, tracing the sensitive skin.
you can’t help but gasp—his cold hands make your skin dance with goosebumps. you hate that there’s a tingling coming from your core. your body is betraying you, signalling that you want him to touch you again.
‘look at you squirm, it’s pathetic,’ he laughs, gripping your thigh with his big hands. ‘i’ll leave you for now, sweetheart.’
he removes his touch, and begins to walk to the door. you notice he’s not tied your restraint this time, and choose not to say anything. a devious look draws upon his face.
‘don’t think you’ve escaped me yet. i’m still waiting for you to thank me properly,’ he warns, and you sink back into the bed, feeling utterly hopeless.
what are you supposed to do? surrender yourself to him willingly, or let him have you one way or another? there’s very little choice in the matter.
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moonlitnyx · 3 months
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"𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘽𝙀 𝙈𝙔…𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙀? 🥹"
How do you celebrate Valentine's Day with your boyfriends?
ft. AVENTURINE, VERITAS RATIO, ARGENTI x GN Reader
content. SWF, very much fluff!! Reader's in a relationship with the characters, No confessions just how they spoil you during Valentines Day, :> Ratio is mentioned as Veritas because how am i suppose to write "Dr. Ratio" with a straight face
notes. Can u tell im single because of how im writing fanfic for fictional characters on Valentines day? 🤡 Wish i could've added Sunday but I want to get to know his character better before writing him <33 my pookie <33
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ft. AVENTURINE
When it comes to Valentine's Day, Aventurine can be a bit excessive...
It's not like you don't appreciate the gifts that he gives you, but the prices always make your jaw drop. What do you mean he got you 20,000 credits worth of roses just for you? They don't even look that special to begin with!
And don't even get started on all the cheesy things he do for you. The amount of chocolate he gets you, or when he takes millions of pictures with you with his "professional photographer" and pick the worst photo of you to put in his wallet is just one of the million things he does that day.
"Aventurine!" You whine, trying to pry out the photo of yourself and him out of his gloved hand. "Your not seriously planning on using that photo!"
Aventurine cocks his head, feigning innocence as he asks sweetly, "What's wrong with it, babe? I think it looks cute!"
"CUTE? I look like I'm about to sneeze!" Your baffled expression makes Aventurine laugh, his hypnotic amethyst eyes twinkling with amusement.
"That's what makes it cute." Aventurine giggles as you make a face.
ft. VERITAS RATIO
Honestly, the first time you celebrate Valentines Day you tried, and damn did you try, to Veritas to enjoy the holiday
You had taken him to a carnival and had even won him a huge teddy bear, taken him to dinner, bought him roses, (tried) to feed him chocolate. But he was tougher to crack than an oyster
However, he was nice enough to give you a perfectly scripted thank-you note, giving his gratitude for the stuffed teddy that you got for him. (You saved that note in your drawer, cherishing it like a sacred tome)
"Soooo," You grin, eyes alight as you giggle. "has this movie effectively swoon you over with the power of love?" In your hand dangled the remote for the T.V, as you lounged on the couch next to Veritas.
"Get that silly grin off your face." Pink eyes glared at yours with annoyance. "Sometimes I even wonder why I'm dating an imbecile such as yourself."
"Oh c'mon! I thought I saw a glimmer of a teardrop in your eyes when we were reaching the end of the film." You fold your arms across your chest, a slight pout on your face as you lean into him.
Veritas rolled his eyes, but a fond smile played on his face as he saw you pout, squeezing your cheeks as he mused, "It was amateur, at best."
ft. ARGENTI
Bro goes above and beyond when it comes to Valentine's Day, like seriously! He picks you roses, makes you your favorite meals, composes sonnets, and even though his actions make you roll your eyes, it also makes your cheeks heat up.
He's sweet, always trying to make you feel loved, and thats why you want to make him loved too on Valentine's Day. He's always so self-sacrificing that sometimes he doesn't care much for himself.
"I-I got you a gift!" Your face is heating up, your hands warm and clammy as you produce a box of chocolates out of your bag and presenting it to the red-haired man.
"Y'know, I'm very glad that we're dating...because your the best thing that happened to me! And I just wanted you to know how appreciated you make me feel and-" You stop as you watch Argenti's pale face flush red, green eyes filled with fondness.
"I made it myself, so it might not be the best, so if tastes weird just throw it out!" You began again, but Argenti cuts you off.
"No, no, it's perfect." A warm smile graces his face, lips curling at the corners as he stares at the box. "The thought of you spending so much time on me makes my heart almost burst."
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©moonlitnyx. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.
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thinlyangel · 2 months
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TW⚠️🍽️
Everything I’ve learnt while researching how to overcome b1nge eating:
I’ve heard so many people say when they’re b1ng1ng, it doesn’t feel like themselves, it feels like something is taking over- and that’s true. You have your rational/logical mindset, this one knows how much you should eat, when you’re full, when you should stop eating, etc. but then you have your animal instincts, this is the one that takes over when you’re b1ng1ng, you can’t stop eating even when you’re in pain from how full you are, often you won’t even feel full. This is because when your body turns on animal instincts, you act without thinking, your body makes choices that rely on how you would usually react in that situation. If you’re faced with food and you b1nge, it will become your body’s natural reaction to continue to do that every time you’re faced with food. I used to wonder how I went from b1ng1ng for a day, to b1ng1ng for a week straight, and that’s because the more I did it the more my body considered it a knowing ability.
If you want to fight your body’s natural reaction, you have to change your actions. Nothing changes if nothing changes- I often see giving in to urges described in this way: once you start giving in, you create this demon in your mind, and everytime you give in, every b1nge, you are feeding that demon. The more you feed it the more power it has over you, and eventually it can take over. You don’t want to put that spirit inside of you, keep them out and your future self will thank you, so remember… DONT FEED THE DEMON. When you feel like you’re going to b1nge, remember that you’re giving in to that demon, you are feeding it and you are giving it the power to take over. It doesn’t matter if your b1nge is ‘just this one time’, because that’s not true. This one time is contributing to the power of so many more b1nges, and I’m sure you can remember a time you told yourself ‘just this one time’, and it wasn’t the last time.
That is a reason to not b1nge, but why do you feel like it in the first place? It’s really important to recognise that. This is my reason, and I feel that many could relate.
I always see people saying you b1nge because you’re stressed, but I never understood stress eating, sometimes I thought I’m not even stressed about school or anything why would I stress eat? Until I learnt that if you are heavy restricting, when the honeymoon phase is over you will most definitely be stressing. Stressing over things like counting calories, meal plans or weighing in… all of that causes stress. Not eating is causing you stress, so now you think that if you just eat you won’t be stressed, so you allow yourself to eat and in that moment you will finally feel relaxed, relieved. That is until you feel guilty and all of a sudden b1ng1ng is giving you stress. Then you start restricting again and you find relaxation and peace in things like meal planning or ⭐️ving… and eventually that starts to stress you out, this is what become a b1nge-r3strict cycle. (Some people’s cause for a b1nge can be different, you just have to recognise what yours is by finding a pattern, once you find it, it becomes easier to train your mind otherwise.)
To break this cycle, like I said you need to train your mind otherwise. Now that I know heavy r3stricting causes me stress, there are 2 things I can do:
1. R3strict in a way that is less stressful.
2. Find another way to deal with stress.
(For step number 1, it is important to try and fall in love with the process so that you feel comfort rather than stress.)
Step number 2 is the one I’m going to be focusing on. I often see people say if you feel like b1ng1ng, choose one of these things to do, and then they’ll provide a long list of different things. And although that list is a good way to find a distraction, it’ll work best to choose one and stick with that one. Find the one that’ll work best for you and train your brain to make that the new stress relieving, relaxing situation that you automatically crave. For me, I like to have a shower and do things like hair or skin care, not only does this relax me, it also makes me feel like I shouldn’t ruin all this self care with a dirty b1nge.
This next tip is similar but explains habit cycles more in depth. Your brain creates a habit loop like this:
1. Cue: a trigger for a habitual behaviour (e.g stress or a sudden negative event)
2. Routine: the habit. (In this case, b1ng1ng).
3. Reward: the result, feeling better (less stressed or relieved/happiness).
Because this is a habit, your animal instincts are again kicking in and whenever you feel the trigger, you automatically go to eat. To change the habit you need to change your routine to something that gives you the same reward. I mentioned how you can do something to relieve stress instead of eating, but there are other ways. For smokers, they are used to reaching for their cigarettes and holding on to one and smoking, to break this loop, they replace the cigarettes with lollipops. When they’re stressed they automatically reach for the cigarettes, which is now a lollipop, and they still have something to hold, they are still doing something similar and they will still feel that comfort, but in a less harmful way. So you kind of need to find something in the comfort of b1ng1ng but less harmful, it could be simply replacing your chocolate stash with an apple so when you go to your comfort b1nge spot you’re faced with a healthier food option that can give you the same satisfaction. You still feel comfort and feel the reward while also being healthier. (I’ve noticed that when I’m b1ng1ng I feel comfort in just stuffing my face and chewing, by eating something healthier I can still do that, with less regret. Also the crunchy texture of apples helps with the satisfaction of chewing.)
An interesting thing I learnt is that when you focus so much on stopping something, you are more likely to end up failing and giving in. This is because humans are action-oriented, and when we are faced with a problem we take action. Our brain is trained to think that when you take action you receive a reward (e.g your tire goes flat, so you fix it and receive the reward of the ability to drive again). This is called the ‘behavioural rebound effect’. To sum it up you will end up doing the thing you’re thinking of (thinking you’ll get a reward if you fix the problem), so instead of focusing on that thing, focus on the behaviour you want to replace it with, think about what you want to become. Instead of focusing on not b1ng1ng, focus on your gw and how you will look and feel when you reach it. Because if you’re thinking about not b1ng1ng, your brain still hears the word b1nge. This is why you give yourself something healthier to focus on, like your future plans or the lollipop smoking thing i mentioned before.
While making new habits to replace the b1ng1ng habit, you have to keep your stress levels low so your brain can actually consider the new routine peaceful. When creating a new habit try to get lots of sleep and try to feel good, if you feel good you’ll do good and if you feel good doing the new habit you’ll keep wanting to do it.
Next tip is to remember that food is literally planned out and designed to make you want more, you have to remember that you don’t actually want the food, you’re just giving in to the food addiction that marketing teams want you to have. For an example, your brain gets addicted to sugar, so not only are you constantly craving it because it’s an addiction, you also are lying to yourself by saying ‘just one bite’, because once your brain has that piece of sugar it’s been dying for, you’ll want more, and more, and more. So you should never give in to just one bite if you want to avoid a b1nge, and also, if you want to fight the addiction, you have to gradually (or straight away) cut that food out.
Also, if you constantly deprive yourself of something that you want, you’re more likely to fail. Keep your goals realistic so that you don’t drain yourself of motivation and will-power, slowly lower your goal if that’s what you have to do. You work better when you’re closer to success, if your goal is too far away then have smaller, stepping stone goals. Like if your goal is to lose 10kg, have milestone goals like 2kg at a time.
Another obvious thing is if you’re in a situation when you feel like you’re going to b1nge… LEAVE. Sometimes you’ll be forced to eat like if you live with your parents, but you’ll never be forced to b1nge, don’t ever feel pressured into b1ng1ng just because you got forced to eat something out of your plan. Unexpected things happen so you need to allow yourself wriggle room, if something gets in the way of your meal plan, simply making a quick change is better than letting the day go to waste by b1ng1ng. Another quick tip is your brain mistakes thirst for hunger, sometimes simply just drinking water can prevent you from a b1nge.
If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Also, I’ll continue to post new tips that I learn, and record my progress on how these tips work for me.
I hope this helps someone :) good luck!
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kittenintheden · 3 months
Text
You Can Read Me Anything Part 2
*ELMO ON FIRE GIF* so that took longer than anticipated but you know. HERE YOU GO. (thank you for all the wonderful comments on Part 1)!
***
Druidic Tav grew up in a nomadic clan that recorded their history through spoken word and song rather than written text. As such, she's illiterate, and one charming-ish vampire offers to help her with reading lessons and a whole lot more. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.
Then one night, she unwittingly brings him smut for their lesson.
Rating: E Word Count: 5100 words Content: illiterate Tav, Astarion being a shit, but also being cute, innocent Tav, suggestive dialogue, blood drinking, biting kink, first time oral, cunnilingus, fellatio, PIV sex, Astarion playing himself
AO3 Link
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Astarion cradles her head, palm gently pressed to her cheek as she leans into it. She sighs and it tickles his ear, sending a dissipating wave of gooseflesh down the length of his back.
“Are you done yet?” Tav asks, voice breathy.
He hums and detaches from her neck, admiring the clean pair of fang marks he left there. His tongue swipes his bottom lip so he doesn’t waste a single drop of her blood. He releases her and takes a step back.
“You…” he says with a lazy smile as he reaches out with a finger to boop her nose. “... are so delicious.”
“Ha, ha,” she says with an affectionate eyeroll. She spreads her hand over the bite mark and calls on her connection to nature, using it to knit the flesh back together and restore her blood supply. “Glad to help.”
“I’ll bet you are,” he drawls at her with a wink. “Thank you for the appetizer. I’d best go find myself a full meal now.”
As he starts to saunter off deeper into the woods, Tav clicks her fingers and lightly bonks herself on the head. “Oh, almost forgot.” After him, she calls the Elvish phrase Shadowheart taught her.
For the first time since she met him at the site of the nautilus crash, she watches Astarion trip over his own feet.
He catches himself quickly, spine unusually straight as he puts his hands on his waist and takes a few more steps like he’d meant to do that the whole time. When he turns around to look at her, her smile fades when she notices his wide-eyed expression. The tips of his ears have gone very pink.
“Wha-” His voice cracks and he clears his throat and tries again, tone painfully casual. “What did you say?”
Tav grimaces. “Shit, did I get the middle part wrong? It was tricky when Shadowheart had me practice.”
Astarion leans forward a bit and gives a shaky laugh. “Ah. Right. I must’ve misunderstood. What were you trying to say?”
“She told me it meant, ‘I’m pleased to have provided you a good meal,’” Tav says, reaching up to pull some of her hair over her shoulder and fiddle with it.
“I see,” he says as he comes closer, his eyes searching her face. “Could you say it again? So I can correct your enunciation.”
“Oh, okay.” Tav gives a soft cough into her hand and repeats the phrase.
Astarion is close enough now that she sees his pupils dilate the tiniest bit. The flush at the tips of his ears spreads down the edges. Do they always do that after he feeds? They must.
He reaches delicate fingers up to cup her chin and draw her jaw down, parting her lips. His eyes are trained on her mouth and that makes her feel all too warm.
“Loosen your tongue,” he says softly. “Once more.”
She tries one more time and watches his eyelids flutter, inches from her own.
“There we go,” he whispers.
His gaze shifts to her neck again and he leans down toward it. She nearly stops him, but then she feels the draw of his tongue over the spot where he bit. He punctuates it with a soft, barely-perceptible press of his lips. A kiss, she might think, if she were a silly little girl. Which she certainly is not.
Then he’s standing straight again, releasing her face and putting space between them.
“Missed a smudge. Can’t let it go to waste.” His eyes rove over her face. “It’s so very precious.”
Then he walks off and she’s left standing there, cheeks hot and chest uncomfortably tight. Tav continues to run her fingers nervously through her hair as she turns and walks back toward their camp.
Astarion counts out fifty paces before he ducks behind a tree and leans his back heavily against it, letting out a shivery breath. He puts his cool fingers to his ears and tries to rub the heat out of them.
“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “Stop it, stop it.”
---
Near the crumbling wreckage of a stone alter, Shadowheart kneels in prayer seeking guidance and direction from her Lady. The darkness, the loss, the silence… they are vast and answerless. She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. Clenches her right hand, glancing at the ever-present wound there.
If only she could remember… anything useful. No matter. For now, it’s whatever path will take her back to Baldur’s Gate.
She gathers her components and packs them away, standing to walk back down the path toward camp. There’s a trio of crumbling walls that clearly used to be some sort of holy building and she walks along one, trailing her fingers over the soft moss overgrowth.
Then she turns round the corner of the broken temple to find a bristling, broody vampire leaned up against the wall with his arms folded, glaring at her with a tic in his jaw. He raises an accusatory finger.
"You," he says, the word hard on his tongue. "Are an arsehole."
She gives him a smug smile and arches her brow. "You're a bigger arsehole."
He refolds his arm and narrows his eyes at her. “Really think you’re clever, don’t you.”
The cleric shrugs and cuts off to the side to walk back to the path. “The goal was to make you lose your cool. Seems like it worked.”
Silently and suddenly he’s walking at her side, lip curling in disdain. “Congratulations to you, you managed to annoy me. Don’t do it again.”
“Oh, he’s testy tonight,” she says, putting a hand to her cheek in a mockery of shock. “Maybe you’d feel less the fool if you hadn’t been teaching her to talk dirty.”
“We can’t all be ice queens, dear,” he sneers. “Some of us are queens with needs.”
Shadowheart rolls her eyes and her entire head along with it. “You should be thanking me, then. I gave you your opening.”
Astarion stops and she keeps on walking.
“To what?” he says.
“To have your ‘needs’ met,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’m not the one who was teaching her to invite me betwixt her thighs. Have a frustrating night.”
Astarion makes an affronted noise after her, pouts a moment, and then calls back, “Your bangs are wretched, by the way.”
She throws a rude gesture up at him and continues onward.
---
He plots and flirts for three days straight before he decides to make his move. Tav’s guard is down, her shy little moments are increasing in frequency, and he can literally hear her heartbeat quicken when he’s near. If that’s not all signs pointing to yes, he doesn’t know what is.
All he has to do is, you know. Make the move. Which he’ll do. Soon.
Because she still makes the most sense. The others all adore her, listen to her. She’s the perfect choice of protector should his vampirism prove a problem to anyone. She’ll say yes. Of course she’ll say yes.
… of course she’ll say yes. No one denies him. It doesn’t happen.
… it rarely happens. Not as if he’d care if it did, this time.
Astarion rocks his weight onto his back leg, flicking his gaze up to see Tav kneeling near the campfire and giving the dog a generous belly rub. Before she stops, he goes back to his extremely casual reading. Standing posed outside his tent. Holding a book with the title facing out. Very normal.
After what feels like an hour, his ears pick up approaching footsteps and he skims the page he’s on, waiting.
“Is that a new one?” Tav asks timidly.
He closes the book and looks up to meet her. His close-lipped smile feels almost natural. Almost.
“There you are,” he says, dropping his register a fraction. “I was just thinking about you.”
Not a lie, actually.
She tucks her hair behind one ear. “Oh? Do I owe you something?”
He laughs and sets his book aside. “Only a bit of your time. I do enjoy it so very much.”
Tav quirks her mouth up on one side. “Yeah? You’re pretty okay, too.”
“Better than okay, I should hope.” He closely examines his thumbnail. “I’m… growing to enjoy the whole package, honestly.”
She doesn’t immediately respond and he chances a look up at her.
“Deer in the magicked light” is what one might call the expression on her face. She blinks rapidly and gives her head a small shake before she looks to the side, color rising prettily in her cheeks.
“Is that so?” she says, giving a tight laugh.
His smile starts to go a little toothy and he dials it back. “I’ve been thinking an awful lot about our last reading lessons,” he lilts at her, peering up through his lashes. “And our language lessons. I’ve been pondering over what other sorts of lessons I could offer.”
Tav’s cheeks go pink to red.
He leans in to speak softly, making her lean in closer to be able to hear him. “I like you,” he says. “And I think you like me, too. So?”
“So, what?” she blurts, immediately grimacing at her own outburst.
A giggle bubbles up out of him before he can stop it and he puts a hand up in front of his mouth to hide his smile. When he regains control, he lowers his hand. “So, I thought you might like to indulge in certain curiosities with me.”
I want to go down on you.
Astarion blinks the thought away as soon as it appears in his head, briefly letting his smile slip before he snatches it back.
Tav is blushing furiously, but she leans in closer to him nonetheless to whisper, “Like what, exactly?”
Elvish, rising like the language of his dreams: I want to drink of your fountain.
He gives his head a light shake, playing it off with a mirthful huff as he says lowly, “Like sex, sweet thing. Whatever kind you might be… interested in.”
Tav nods rapidly and hums, slowly leaning back and standing at her full height again, not quite meeting his eye. “I was pretty sure that’s what you meant, but you know. Better safe than sorry? Is that a thing people say?”
Astarion reaches out to gently guide her chin toward him until she’s looking at him. “Think about it. If you’re amicable, you’ll find me later at the clearing where you last offered me a bite after the others are asleep.” He chucks her under the chin. “I’ll be waiting.”
She nods once more, expression unchanged. “Yeah. Yep. Okay. I’m going to… see you later. Maybe.” Then she turns on her heel and walks away.
“See you later,” he says. “Lover.”
When she disappears into the dark, he blows out a breath, subtly shaking his hands out. That was a yes.
Right?
“Of course it was,” he snipes at his own brain.
---
Hours later, Astarion paces the moonlit clearing, fiddling with the cuffed sleeve of his shirt. The others must be asleep by now. He pulls at the sleeve. It feels too tight.
Should he take the shirt off? He should just take the shirt off.
He does.
Astarion glances around the clearing once more, noting the blanket he spread on the ground nearby. Not a bed, but you know. He’s okay with that, actually.
He clenches and unclenches his fists, rolling his hands at the wrists. Cracking his neck. Rolling out his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to be still. Controlled. Practiced. This is an act he’s performed thousands of times. This is no different.
It’s not.
She’s going to come out of those bushes any moment and-
The bushes he’s looking at actually rustle and he jumps, whispering “oh, shit” before he can stop himself. He manages to put a smile back on his face just as the leaves part and a small doe takes two hops into the clearing and freezes when it spots him.
Astarion doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe. The doe relaxes very slightly, flicking an ear.
It’s one of the little black-tailed deer native to the area. He’s made a meal of more than one of them in recent days. Her coat is smooth and healthy, her eyes brown and clear.
The doe blinks at him and takes a step closer.
He gives a relieved chuckle and says, “There you are, Tav.”
“Oh, you heard me? Damn,” says a voice from behind him.
“Ah-” he yells. He tries to cut off the sound, but it’s too late. The doe spooks and bounds off into the underbrush once again.
“Apologies,” he says, regaining his composure and rolling his eyes to the stars above. “She was such a pretty little thing that I assumed it was you.” He starts to turn. “But I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you’d gotten lost and…” He finally sets eyes on her and loses his smile immediately. “... and you’re already naked.”
Tav stands before him without a stitch on, her long hair hanging over her rounded breasts and everything from the waist down on full display. He spots her clothing and staff in a neat stack nearby. Her whole body is flushed.
Astarion swallows. He’s seen untold numbers of people in states of full undress. This is routine. She caught him off-guard, is all.
“I… was I not supposed to be?” Tav says, hands going up to run nervously through her draping hair. “Sorry, I thought… you said sex? And then I saw that you had your shirt off, so…”
He holds up a hand and ticks up his brows. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine! I like it.” He finds the mask, the posture, like muscle memory. Slips back into the person in control. “You’re just full of surprises, beautiful.”
Tav rewards him with a bashful smile, continuing to comb her hands through her hair.
Astarion huffs a laugh. He can’t help himself. He approaches her with slow, intentional steps. “I had a whole catalog of poetic nothings to whisper in your ear, but looks like I needn’t bother, which is fine by me.” He stops in front of her, smiling his charmer’s smile. “So long as you still want to be tasted.”
He’s starting to notice it’s a good sign when the apples of her cheeks turn red. She nods. “I’d like to try the tongue thing, yes, please.”
“Good,” he purrs, reaching for her hips.
He pulls her in for a sweet, well-executed stage kiss. Most people needed about that much before they got to what they were really with him for. He pulls back and gives her a tight-lipped smile.
Tav looks into his eyes, her lips parted. She’s not moving, and oh gods, he’s going to have to lead completely, isn’t he? Ah well. Such is life.
But then she tucks her chin, her gaze going heated. The pupils of her eyes flicker, changing shape ever so slightly, and Astarion hardly has time to drop his pretender’s smile and ask before she surges forward and kisses him back, throwing her arms around his neck.
Astarion gives a surprised “mmmn!” as he stumbles slightly under her vigor, but he corrects quickly, wrapping his arms around her ribcage and lifting her against his body. Her tongue runs along his mouth and she’s nipping, nipping, and-
There’s a sharp sting on his bottom lip and he releases her right as she pulls back from him, hands to her mouth and eyes wide as saucers. He reaches up to touch his lip and when he looks at his fingers, they show a smeared drop of blood. He blinks down at it, astounded.
He feels a snap deep inside him as the monster in him, the hunter, stirs at the sight and scent of blood.
“I’m so sorry,” Tav says, dropping her hands. “It’s a druid thing, we can get a little wild, I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”
Astarion licks at the cut on his lip and stares at her face, his breath heavy and his shoulders ever so slightly hunched. He can see the smallest bit of his blood at the corner of her mouth.
“Do it again,” he says with a voice like gravel as he scoops her bodily up and goes to his knees so he can set her on the ground.
He lays his body on top of hers and she gasps as his mouth covers hers, exploring and hungry. It doesn’t take long for her to return it in kind, arms wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair. He can’t even bring himself to care when she’s making it look like.
Murkily, his brain reminds him why he’s actually here.
Astarion forces himself away from her mouth and she whines at him, a sound far more animalistic than humanoid, but he doesn’t stop trailing his lips down her body until he gets to her hips. He rolls himself up onto his knees and runs his palms up the tops of her legs from knee to thigh, coaxing them open so he can position himself between.
He looks at her face to find her gaze far less “startled doe” and far more “she-wolf in heat.” Her tongue darts out, licking her lip before she says, “People really like to do this?” Then, “You like to do this?”
Astarion positively grins, his pointed teeth showing through.
"Yes. Though it’s a pity this is your first experience," he says through his feral smile. "Because no one will ever best what I'm about to do to you."
“O-okay,” she stammers, clutching her fists close to her sides.
He purrs deep in his throat and puts his mouth to the inside of her knee, the tip of his tongue tracing a sensual line down her thigh, toward her center. He holds her eye the entire time and delights when her leg twitches.
When he nears the crease of her hip, he gives her a sharp nip and she growls at him, bucking her hips. He runs his tongue up along the crease until he reaches her hipbone, to which he gives a firm suck. As she attempts to roll her hips toward him, he spreads a palm over her hips and applies pressure to hold her down.
“Shall we check to see how you’ve kept your garden?” he says, looking at her from under his brows as he speaks.
In response, Tav giggles and slaps a hand over her mouth. Then nods.
She drops her hand to the ground and shakes her head, murmuring, “It can’t be that different, I’m sure it’s just like…” She shudders in a breath. “... just like…”
Astarion parts his lips and huffs out his breath against the slick skin at her core, already shining with want and anticipation. The sensation is a warming one.
Tav continues muttering to herself. “Books are full of all kinds of nonsense, I’m sure it’s-”
He flicks his tongue right over her clit.
“Ah,” she yelps, trying to buck her hips again. He doesn’t let her.
But he does flick again.
“Wha-” she says, thighs jerking on either side of Astarion’s head. “Why is-”
Astarion presses the flat of his tongue firmly at her entrance and draws it slowly all the way to the hood, teasing with the tip before he curls his tongue in slightly and dips back down to better open her inner labia.
“Holy hells,” Tav groans out, her chest arching up and the hands clawing the ground at either side of her growing actual claws.
He gives her another lap before pulling back to smolder at her. “And here I’ve only just started,” he says, voice silky.
“Holy hells,” Tav shouts to the sky this time.
Astarion huffs a laugh against her and goes back down, playing her with highly practiced skill. Full, long licks paired alongside firm draws over the swelling pearl at her center. She continues to buck ever now and again, but mostly she’s gone near boneless above him, head lolling lazily to either side and fingers weakly gripping the grass on either side of her.
When her breathing begins to stutter and he feels the flutter of her getting close, he finally moves his hand from her belly back down until he can get the angle right. He places the tips of his two middle fingers at her entrance so he doesn’t surprise her and glances up to see her eyes flutter open. She stares down at him from between the mounds of her breasts, pupils blown wide.
She licks her bottom lip.
She nods.
Astarion slides his fingers inside her and begins to pump in time with the movements of his mouth. Tav goes wild, both literally and figuratively. The pupils of the eyes watching him go slitted like a cat’s, gradually dilating back as her teeth go sharp and a random patterning of fur shivers down the length of her body before turning back to skin.
He takes that as a good sign and curls his fingers inside of her until he finds what he’s looking for.
Tav bark-mewl-roar-calls into the air above the clearing, her hips grinding into his mouth and hand now that she can move them again.
“Why does that…” she gasps. “Feel… so… good?” The last word comes out a growl.
He’d answer, but his mouth is preoccupied and he dare not let it leave its task.
With his free hand, he pushes her thigh up and guides it higher until she can wrap her leg round his shoulders and he can go deeper. He feels the swell of her under his tongue, going harder beneath his touch, and he begins to trace circles around it as he continues to pump his fingers into her.
Tav’s entire body rolls, trying to get closer, to get more, to get-
She howls as the tension finally snaps. Literally howls, from the very bottom of her chest.
Astarion slows but doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck her through it as he feels her release in the palm of his hand. He’s gentle, taking a touch of pity on her as he gives her a few more soft licks before he leaves her, drawing his fingers from her at the same time. They’re a mess, as is his face. He sits back on his knees and looks her over with lidded eyes, a self-satisfied half-grin on his face. Then he reaches into his pocket to produce a soft cloth to clean up.
He’s not much of a planner, but he plans enough for things like this.
Tav lolls on the ground, her body fully returned back to humanoid form. All except her pupils, which continue to occasionally flicker across the animal kingdom.
“Oh, that was good,” Astarion says, brows raised and grin on his face as he wipes his hand down. “Even for me, that was good. You’re welcome.”
She throws one arm out to her side, then the other, and slowly pushes herself up onto her elbows, trying to focus on him. “Why doesn’t… everybody do that? Oh my gods.” She flops back onto the ground.
Oh, she’s very good for his pride. He gives a pleased wiggle.
“You tell me,” he says. “Or call upon your old lovers and ask.”
Tav weakly waves her hand through the air. “They were bad. I’ve realized. Just now. They were bad at sex.”
“Poor thing,” Astarion croons. “All better now.”
“Yeah.” She rolls onto her side and sits up. Shakes out her head. And starts to crawl toward him.
He instinctively leans back as she comes closer, breasts swaying as she moves. “What are you doing?” he says.
She blinks at him. “I’m going to do it back.”
He blinks at her. “What?”
Tav draws her knees closer and matches his kneeling posture. “I’m going to put my mouth on you back.” She waits a beat. “If you want me to.”
“Uh,” Astarion breathes before he shakes himself and gets his wits back about him. “I would like that very much,” he says. He tries to purr it, but slightly lower in pitch is the best he can do.
It’s been years since he’s been with anyone who even bothered to ask. Probably decades.
Tav beams at him, a bright smile that’s so sunshiny it nearly betrays what they’ve just done. She rolls up onto her knees and pulls him by the wrists to do the same so she can reach the laces that hold his trousers on. His arousal pulses near her hands.
Astarion blinks. He’s… more into this than he usually is.
He blinks again.
He’s very into it, actually.
His fingers go to join hers and together they make quick work of his pants and underthings. Gently, she guides him back to kneeling again as she curls forward. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches out so he can hold her hair up out of her face. She’s at eye level with his cock, inspecting it with the eye of someone all too familiar with all the things nature has to offer and completely unashamed for it.
Astarion swallows back the wanting sound that tries to claw its way out of him.
“Have you done this before?” he asks softly.
Tav peers up at him from her position below and bends her legs at the knees, kicking her feet slowly through the air. She shakes her head “no” and something frozen inside him melts. Best ignore that. That’s a future-him problem.
“You are adorable,” he breathes. He finds he means it in the affectionate way rather than the condescending one, which is alarming. That’s another future-him problem.
Astarion clears his throat. “Same general practice applies here, really,” he says lightly.
Tav licks her lips and reaches out to touch him. Her fingers on him give him a little jolt to the solar plexus and he curls toward her on instinct before he catches himself.
“Tell me if there’s something I could do better,” she says, simply.
Then she licks along the underside of his cock and puffs her breath out across it, much in the same way he did to her.
He curls in toward her again and tightens the hand in her hair.
She puts her mouth over the head of him and he’s enveloped in warmth and oh, yes, he remembers this. This feels good. This feels very good.
Tav doesn’t get down very far before she backs up again. When she pulls off, he reaches a hand down to cup her jaw and draw it down, parting her lips.
“Loosen your tongue,” he whispers. “Once more.”
She does. She descends on him again, relaxing her jaw and loosening her tongue, taking him down deeper and deeper with each pass. Astarion means to watch and guide her, he does, but instead his head lolls back, eyes falling closed, and he smiles. A real smile.
It feels so bloody good. It feels good and he doesn’t have to… he can just be…
Tav hums a little with him mostly inside her mouth and he gasps from it, blinking back to the surface.
Oh, that’s too good.
He lets her go a few seconds more before he tightens the fingers in her hair once more to still her and gently guide her back. His chest heaves as her mouth leaves him, a string of saliva connecting them, and Astarion shudders forward.
“What’s wrong?” Tav asks, her eyes wide and concerned.
She can’t look at him like that. That’s not fair.
He lifts her beneath her arms and pulls her up toward him, her face to his, and kisses her again. She happily responds, catching his lower lip between hers and nipping once more.
Astarion groans.
Hands on her face, he breaks their kiss and tries to collect his scattered thoughts. It’s all hazed over with want. There was a reason for this, they were supposed to… he was supposed to…
“Why don’t we…” He loses the thought and swallows. Tries again. “Let’s find our mutual…”
Words, words, words, where are his words?
Astarion hisses through his teeth. “Oh, just… sex. Let’s have sex.”
“Oh,” Tav breathes, lips swollen and cheeks ruddy. “Okay.”
Whatever he had planned, which was not much, goes completely sideways as she simply climbs up onto his lap, reaches between them, and holds him steady so she can sink down onto him.
He’s so wholly unprepared for the suddenness and initiative of it that his eyes nearly roll back in his head before his mind catches up and he grips her hip with his hand, guiding her as he rolls up to meet her, his hips rhythmic, until their hips meet and he bottoms out.
Tav throws her arms around his shoulders and immediately begins to rock against him, her eyes closed and her joyous grin on her face. Astarion is doing his absolute best not to completely lose himself in her heat, her closeness, her scent.
Her pulse, oh, gods.
Astarion rocks himself up into her with steady rolls of his hips, tilting in to press his open lips to her neck with a moan.
“You can,” she gasps as she rides him. “You can bite, if you want.”
He’s not sure if the words he makes are language, but he does know he’s biting her and her blood washes over his tongue and he drinks lazily, sipping as he fucks into her at the same time. His mind is so unbelievably, blissfully bare of anything except how good, how hot, how much, how full, how winding winding winding-
Astarion pulls off her neck with a gasp almost on the edge of his orgasm. Automatically, he reaches between them and uses all the wiles of a skilled lockpick to send her spiraling over her ledge a second time before he furrows his brow, slams his eyes shut, and yells out as he climaxes, his spend spilling where he’s still buried deep.
“Oh, fuck,” he blurts before he can stop himself, nearly collapsing onto his side with Tav along for the ride. He slips out of her on the way down and immediately feels the mess they’ve just made.
Another future-him problem.
Tav casts a very half-hearted create water spell that at least rinses them off. She drapes herself over his chest, dopey smile plastered on her face. “You win,” she says. “I see what all the fuss is about now.”
“I bet you do,” he says breathily.
He’s grateful she’s not looking at his face as he struggles to hide the worry pulling at his expression. It’s future-him time, and future-him is having a moment.
He just had the best sex he can remember having in… that he can remember. With someone who will still be alive in the morning. And he likes her.
Oh, hells.
He likes her.
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plant-based-feeder · 3 months
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We both know you never wanted to be this fat. Who would…..right?
I can imagine how awful it must be to be seen like this in public, so absolutely monstrous that people mock you, and have to do double takes because they’ve never seen someone so fucking fat.
Of course they mock you, because you will never find clothes that will fit ever again. Your body is so grotesquely misshapen by the fat that you’ve forced onto it. How can we expect a normal shirt to contain your massive udders and Christmas ham sized arms. Your belly is another story all together. It either droops down to your thighs when empty or is stuffed so full that it’s like trying to shove a yoga ball into a pillow case.
Thanks to all that weight, every step just looks difficult. Hundreds of pounds pressing onto your poor knees and feet. No wonder they hurt all the time. And I know for a fact that you entire body jiggles with every step thanks to all that blubber. Your so close to perfection. I’m already making the payments on the hospital bed that will be installed once you finally become immobile.
And your just so wide big. Most doorways have to be squeezed through and Bathroom stalls are out of the question. I literate have to move the racks inside clothing stores so that you can fit down the aisle.
You don’t have any hobbies, or friends, or anything except food, and me, the person who happily feeds you whether you want it or not. Entire boxes of doughnuts, whole Pounds of bacon, family sized boxes of burritos.
And those are just the snacks.
Preparing your meals takes up my entire day. I wake up early to serve you breakfast, cook all day for your lunch, and work into the night to make your dinner. Each meal is so large that me can’t even use plates anymore. I just roll out a tablecloth and dump mounds of fatty goodness on top for you to enjoy.
All the time I put in is worth it though. From the rolls of fat on your belly, to your triple chin, to your cellulite ridden ass, you’ve become my masterpiece.
You’ve become exactly what I wanted from you. A slave to your own hunger, and a prisoner in your body.
Just remember, you did this to yourself.
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moonstruckme · 2 months
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Hi 💜
I sent a request a while ago about Spencer x reader academic stress. It was absolutely perfect. Thank you so much 💗
I just read the james one about reader skipping meals (it was so sweet and lovely) and I tend to do that myself sometimes not eating anything between dinner one day to the next simply because i got busy with classes and forgot until i get a migrane or get a bit dizzy. So, I was wondering if you could do a similar prompt with Spencer and reader being busy all day with work or classes or whatever and simply forgetting to eat until a migrane / dizzy spell occurs and he finds out.
I just feel like he'd be so kind and give facts about importance of not skipping meals for brain function, while coddling, feeding and spoiling reader, maybe cooking or handfeeding too I don't know whatever works for you. Thank you 💕🌸
Sorry if i wrote too much😅
Thank you for requesting lovely (and no sorries necessary) &lt;3
cw: mention of skipping meals, dizziness/nausea
Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1.2k words
Spencer finds you sitting down in the stairwell. You recognize him by the sound of his footsteps, lighter than Morgan’s but less clicky than JJ’s heels. Neither of you typically use the stairs, so you can only imagine that he’s come looking for you. 
“Hi,” you say to let him know you’re alive inside the tiny cavern you’ve made of your own body. You’re bent over to rest your forehead on your knees, one hand on each of your temples as you breathe slowly to steady yourself. Overall, it’s a pretty dramatic pose. And you’re definitely getting the butt of your slacks dirty on these stairs. 
Spencer’s footsteps pass you, and for half a second you think he really is just using the stairs. He stops a few steps below you. You can feel him scrutinizing the top of your head. 
“Are you okay?” he asks in that soft, careful voice of his. “You just disappeared.” 
You had sort of fled the scene. You still feel too new to the team to feel fully comfortable, and with Strauss here for the case everyone is on their best behavior, so when you’d all been walking in the hallway and a dizzy spell had nearly collapsed you into the wall, you’d dropped back from the group and stepped into the first door you saw rather than risk bringing attention to yourself. 
“I’m fine,” you say through an exhale, lifting your head from your knees. “Sorry, I just got dizzy and didn’t want to cause problems.” 
Spencer’s eyebrows bunch. He lowers into a crouch in front of you, looking up into your face. “Dizzy—do you know what caused it? Is this something that happens often?” He bypasses your rudeness in abandoning the team immediately, and the questions come almost too fast for your addled brain to keep up with. You think you need protein. Or carbs, or something. 
“Yeah—I mean no, it doesn’t happen all the time,” you say. “I just forgot to eat lunch.” 
The notch between Spencer’s brows digs in and he brushes a piece of hair behind his ear. “What happened?” 
You shrug, embarrassed. “I packed a lunch so I wouldn’t have to take a break, and then I just forgot about it. I’ve been…” you glance up at Spencer, but his eyes are too safe and open to even contemplate deceiving. “I haven’t been keeping up with my work like I should. I didn’t want to take a break, and I didn’t even remember my lunch until now.” 
“It’s on your desk?” he asks. 
You blink. “My work?”
“Your lunch.” 
“Yeah,” you say. It comes out curved like a question. 
“Okay.” He straightens, lithe limbs extending until you’re craning your neck to look up at him. “Wait here.” 
You turn, starting to protest, but Spencer sets a pacifying hand on your head as he passes. Objections acknowledged, but ignored. Following him is out of the question; just pivoting sitting down had sent your head swimming again. 
The door bangs shut after him, and a minute later he returns with your sad paper bag and a bottle of gatorade. 
“I saw you have water in here,” he says, sitting back in his place a couple steps below you, “but I thought electrolytes might help more.” He twists the cap off and hands it to you. Rather than passing you your lunch bag, he sets it in his own lap to dig through the contents. “You want your sandwich first?” 
You lower the gatorade from your mouth, wiping self-consciously under your lower lip. “Yes, please,” you say, and Spencer hands it to you. You set the gatorade down beside you. “Do we keep these in the fridge?” 
“Morgan does.” You must look as horrified as you feel, because Spencer goes on quickly, “He won’t even notice it’s gone. He likes the blue ones the least anyway.” 
You nod hesitantly, raising the bottle to your lips for another sip. “I’ll get him a replacement in case.” 
His smile is understanding, and you’re reminded that before you, Spencer was the youngest on the team. You imagine he knows how it feels to be constantly wary of getting on someone’s bad side. 
“You really don’t have to,” he says anyway. 
You take a bite of your sandwich, shrugging. “Thanks a lot for this, but you don’t have to stay here with me. Won’t we get in some kind of trouble?” 
“I think we’ll be okay here for a little while,” Spencer says. “Actually, I don’t think most people on the team even know where this door goes. None of us ever use the stairs. And they might not have noticed we’re gone yet.” 
You give him a deadpan look. “They’ll notice you’re gone.” 
He shrugs. It’s not a denial. “I don’t mind waiting with you.” 
It means more to you than it reasonably should. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and take another bite of your sandwich as an excuse to look away. 
You haven’t even polished it off yet, and Spencer’s already dipping into your bag for more. He takes the cap of a container of grapes. 
“Here, have some of these.” He holds it out, and you shove the last bite of sandwich into your mouth to take it from him. “You probably need some vitamin C,” he muses. His eyes fall to the nearly full bottle at your side. “Don’t forget to drink.” 
You almost grin, covering your full mouth with a hand as you speak. “I can’t actually do all this at once.” 
“Oh, sorry.” He looks abashed. “Take your time.” You do, swallowing before lowering your hand to give him a small smile. It’s returned. “You know, skipping meals is actually pretty dangerous.” 
Your smile fades, but Spencer holds your gaze. His eyes are gentle. 
“I know you just forgot, but low blood sugar impedes brain function. We need to be able to think clearly and quickly to do our job. So, being nourished is really important to that.” 
You nod, chastised. He taps the container of grapes, and you pop one into your mouth. 
“Are you going to tell Hotch?” you ask him quietly. 
Spencer blinks, brows twitching together. “No,” he says. “It’s not really that big of a deal, and anyway I think Hotch would just tell you the same thing. I just think it’s important for you to know.” 
You rub your lips together, bobbing your head again. “Okay, thanks.” You look at him seriously, dropping your voice into a terrible imitation of Hotch’s deep timbre. “I won’t let it happen again.” 
Spencer grins, surprised by you, and you mirror him. You’re a bit surprised by yourself too. 
“Are you feeling any better?” he asks. 
You nod automatically, not taking even the barest inventory yourself to see whether that might be true, but Spencer can obviously tell. His brown eyes search yours, scientifically probing, like they might tell him something you won’t. You’re well aware that Spencer’s a certifiable genius, and yet you’re still learning not to underestimate him. 
“We can probably go back now,” you tell him. 
His stare holds yours a minute longer. You feel pleasurably crushed under the weight of his attention. 
After a few seconds, Spencer’s expression settles into decision. “Let’s sit here for a minute,” he says. “You should finish your food. You’re owed a lunch hour anyway, no one’s ever stipulated when or where you have to take it.” 
You crack a smile. “What about you?” 
“I’m staying with you,” he says matter-of-factly. Like it’s the only option even worth considering. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself, and it’s probably best if I take the gatorade bottle back up with us. If Morgan sees, it’ll be easier for me to take credit if I’m holding it.”
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dotchannie · 15 days
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- 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎 :: c.bc x reader (MDNI)
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synopsis: channie finds his lovers little toy whilst trying to entertain himself in a rare moment he’s left himself home alone.
a/n: repost ik ik whatever, im stilling moving blogs technically but one day it'll be something new <3 part two will probably drop in the next week or so ! fem reader in that part but this one is more solo chan than anything else !
wc: 1,256.
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Warnings: housewife chan he is a domestic queen and he’s lonely:(, mentions of living repetitive days, solo male masturbation with toys oop, vibrator over clothes, mentions of a hand job(not described), he busts quick sorry chan<3, cumming in his pants, petnames(baby twice i think), whiny booooy ! next part will be filthier <3
Chan feels very uneasy in his own home at the moment- so used to being the one jetting around the world that he can't quite settle at it being your turn instead.
It's only a fleeting trip to visit relatives, but it’s enough to have him picking his phone up every couple of seconds- blinking notifications having hope settling in his chest that maybe, just maybe, you require his attention.
Alas, your love is needed elsewhere, your partner left to his own devices- bandmates caught up in their own commitments back home too, their leader struggling in what should be a relaxing time. A period of down low. Chan prefers to be busy, to have a task weighing heaving on his shoulders and engaging his mind.
Hence his current situation, rooms gutted one by one as he works his wonders with whatever cleaning supplies he can get his hands on- the kitchen his first target. Spices long forgotten in the depths of storage pulled to the light, discarding as necessary as he uses his new found hobby to hone in on his organisation skills.
He even dabbles in some cooking, various ingredients already creeping up to their best before thanks to only feeding one mouth- if nothing else he has a couple hearty meals prepped in your absence.
The next chore see’s him tackling the living room. All he really needs to is straighten up some blankets and pillows, hoover a little, maybe a candle or something to make it feel homey while you're still away- more of his time spent in the four walls making up the bedroom.
Days begin merging into one as far as Chan’s concerned, each one starting with cleaning and ending with, well, cleaning.
By the time the next day rolls round he's more than half way through scrubbing the entire house- the plans today were to face your shared bathroom, but when he bypasses through the bedroom and is greeted by the chaos he's currently living in, he feels guilty that you're usually the one keeping on top of it.
Clothes tossed all over the room, shoes kicked off and forgotten about in favour of launching himself straight into plush sheets instead- and he can already hear your nagging at how his dirty clothes are on the floor near the laundry basket, not in it- something he now realises is completely justified.
Room cleaning is never straight forward though, and now he’s sat himself infront of the lower drawers attached to the wardrobe, legs criss-crossed as he folds, cramming in even more clothes he's managed to pull out of every crevice in the room.
Reaching forward to scoot some of your belongings around, he makes contact with a metallic object.
It’s cold when he takes it between the pads of his fingertips, believing it to be something else he would need to find a rightful home for on his mad cleaning spree- spending a couple moments rolling it back and forth before spinning it far enough to see a small power symbol near the base of the foreign object, gasping at his own discovery.
He's holding his breath as he presses the power button once. Nothing. He holds it in for a couple seconds this time. Nothing again. He let's out a sigh- no idea if it’s relief or defeat.
But curiousity has already gotten the better of him, inquisitive hands rummaging in the same drawer once more to see if you have a charger for this thing. And low behold you do.
Chan wastes no time plugging it in, busying himself with more tidying- bed stripped and remade with fresh sheets, all the while repeadeatly looking back towards the bedside table.
He manages to forget about it long enough to go take a shower, skin grimey from the accumulation of sweat and dirt but he's back to square one when he lays down to rest for the night. Scrutinising your little friend as it lays by his side- staring at it like it's going to do something spectacular before his very eyes.
Eventually, bravery takes over- thoughts of you quick to flood his mind when it’s in his palm once more. Do you use it when he's away? Do you use it when he's home and busy in the janky makeshift studio in the spare room? He always has headphones on he'd probably never hear you anyway.
He doesn't even realised he's pressing the button, mind running through a million scenarios, a soft "oh" slipping his lips as it begins to frantically buzz between his thumb and index finger.
Chan’s pleasantly surprised by the power it packs and he can only imagine how good it feels for you when you put it to use- excitement building as he considers his next action, a shake of his head stopping the train before it gets on the tracks fully and returning it to it's charger before rolling over to be welcomed by a restless night.
He goes about the next day much like he did the previous, starting to feel like he was stuck in a groundhog kind of situation.
Welcomed by the duvet, he makes himself comfortable on your side of the bed- eyes locked on to his new found enemy that has his brain turning to mush in his head.
But when he picks it up this time he has much different intentions.
Instinct alone guiding him to place it directly on his tip, hips violently rising of the bed with a heavy "oh fuck" when the bullet springs to life.
He's completely underestimated the capabilities of such a compact toy- chest immediately feeling like it's caving in from stimulation.
The brief contact ensuring him that one, this is going to be the quickest release since his first and two, it's going to become addicting- not daring place it on his bare skin.
Slowly running it up and down his length, his eyelids pull shut against his will, never having felt anything like it, doubting he ever will- back arching so far off the bed he's almost resting on his crown.
Ragged puffs of air escape his nose, nostrils flared wide- chest heaving as he begs to keep up with his own self inflicted torture.
Chan's completely taken by surprise by his own orgasm- quick and powerful when it hits him, announcing to an empty room that he's going to come.
"oh god, oh fuck- im cumming, ahhhhh im gonna bust baby, just like that", pent up energy being realesed in the form of repeatedly slapping at the blankets as he does.
With his head feeling like it’s full of cotton wool he can't help but groan at the tacky feeling of his boxers clinging to him, mouth dry and uncomfortable from hanging open so long.
In his state of bliss, Chan barely makes out the sound of his phone ringing- scrambling to pick it up when he eyes focus enough to register your name, news you're finally on your way back to him.
"Chan! I'm in the taxi now I'll be home soon!", your voice comes through the speaker in a sing song tone but he's struggling to make sense of what you're saying.
"Chan? Can your hear me? Hellooo?".
He let's out something akin to a whine, completely beyond his control and using what little breath he can catch to huff out a dazed response,
"baby, you gotta hurry I need help"
You ask the driver to pick up the pace and rush you home, quick.
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🏷️: @rose-tinted-kalopsia
𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 !
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sulumuns-dootah · 2 months
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WHB Kings meeting their Obey Me! counterparts
A/N: I try to not pit/compare these two games against each other, but as someone who was into Obey Me! (and still is) and found out about WHB thanks to it, i need to get this out of my system.
⟡ Masterlist ⟡
The scenario is that OM!Solomon messed up some spell and made Obey Me! and What in Hell is bad? universes interconnect and our demon kings get to meet their other version. (I only included those kings that we've already met in WHB - when we get Belphie and Asmo, I might make part 2)
      ༺☆༻
Lucifer
Their meeting is the calmest and most civilised out of all of them.
They don't really talk outside of formal greeting and some polite small talk
Oh, but on the inside? OM!Lucifer is internally appalled by the amount of skin that's WHB!Lucifer showing
WHB!Lucifer is really wondering who this Diavolo guy is, since OM!Lucifer managed to mention him in their little small talk about ten times
OM!Lucifer excuses himself after some time to go make sure his brothers don't do anything stupid while meeting their counterpart
      ༺☆༻
Mammon
Oh
Oh no
This can go in two ways: OM!Mammon's ego gets absolutely crushed (there seems to be a pattern with WHB!Mammon) and just doesn't talk at all, just moping around while trying to look intimidating or he tries to get some treasures off WHB!Mammon since they're technically the same guy and he can definitely trust that he won't sell it to repay his debts
In the second case OM!Lucifer storms in and stops any of his attempts
That entertains WHB!Mammon though, and so he does give OM!Mammon some worthless (read: expensive, but not that rare) treasures
That lights up OM!Mammon's eyes and he doesn't shut up about it for the next century
      ༺☆༻
Leviathan
Well this goes even worse than the Mammons meeting
OM!Leviathan tries to keep his composure, but fails
The envy is strong in this one and some Lovecraftian horrors might get summoned
OM!Leviathan now has more reasons to put himself down, good luck OM!MC with this one
WHB!Leviathan has a hard time believing that that's him from different universe. What went wrong?
But it does make him feel better. He was worried that this other Leviathan would look better than him and beat him at one of the things he's best at
If OM!Lucifer manages to calm OM!Leviathan, they might be able to bond over their use of bathtubs, but no promises
      ༺☆༻
Beelzebub
WHB!Beelzebub expected a lot, but not this
He's not horny? He just loves to eat food so much he even eats inedible objects like pillars of buildings?
Though, he does now wonder how that tastes
OM!Beelzebub tries to not judge WHB!Beelzebub just based on looks, but can't help himself to see how thin he is. Does he even eat at all?
Also, what are those gemstones and how would they taste?
The huge word 'FEED' on WHB!Beelzebub's coat reminds him that he hasn't eaten in a while
The moment WHB!Beelzebub mentions about his hobby in cooking, OM!Beelzebub is on board and on the way to the nearest kitchen
Interestingly enough, the aphrodisiac effects don't seem to be working on OM!Beelzebub, so he just enjoys the meal, but secretly wishes it was Barbatos' cooking instead
      ༺☆༻
Satan
'What do you mean Lucifer is your father?'
These two have hard time accepting that they're technically the same demon.
WHB!Satan is disappointed. He expected someone more scary than horned chicken impersonator. What's that boa about? How do you fight angels in that?
OM!Satan tries to stay calm and not loose his temper when WHB!Satan teases his about his clothing. Somehow he manages.
WHB!Satan is surprisingly more talkative than with most demons. They're the same demon after all and therefore they face the same difficulties, no?
OM!Satan is glad to hear that his other self is favored by his people. The pain kink though? He could do without knowing that, really.
      ༺☆༻
A bonus! ^^
Barbatos
OM!Barbatos is trying to stay as calm and professional as possible, but can't help but wonder what on earth is that noose for
When he finds out it's to show loyalty for his master, he gets calmer
When he finds out that it does actually gets used for hanging, he's back to slight panic mode
WHB!Barbatos doesn't like OM!Barbatos from the beginning. How does one absorb sunlight in so much clothes? No wonder he's so pale and seemingly tired all the time.
All these gloomy colors make him sad. It's almost like this other Barbatos sucked all the color out of the room.
OM!Barbatos is appaled to find out about WHB!Barbatos' interests, but feels intrigued. If the sun ever came up in Devildom, he would try sunbathing, albeit more modestly dressed.
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another-lost-mc · 9 months
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a/n: You know me so well bb! I've been thinking about this all day. 💚
barbatos x gn!reader [nb] | 0.6k words | sfw (fluff)
content/warnings: hinted established relationship with og!barbatos, solomon slander. 😈
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Barbatos invites you to the castle for a late supper because someone has to look after you properly. He knows you spend so much of your time caring for everyone else. Who can he trust to feed you if not himself? Lucifer and his siblings? Solomon? No, he won't rely on the fallen angels to think beyond their own problems to worry about yours, nor will he subject you to more of that damned sorcerer's definition of edible food.
He’s worried that a detour to the castle will make your long day even more exhausting for you, but he can’t resist the temptation to offer his assistance. He dampens his cautious optimism and prepares himself for your apologetic refusal, but eagerness blooms in his chest when you thank him profusely for an excuse not to return to Cocytus Hall just yet. (You tell him that you could smell Solomon's food from outside the building, and you were lingering outside contemplating what to do next.) It doesn't take long for you to arrive at the demon lord's castle, and your eyes brighten sweetly when you notice him waiting for you on the front steps. You look relieved to see him, like you're greeting an old friend, or like you're coming home. He wonders what he’s done to deserve such admiration.
He realizes that he should've thought this plan through because once he leads you to the kitchen, he has no idea what meal to serve you. Dinnertime was hours ago, and everything has been cleaned and put away. He urges you to sit and relax at one of the countertops while he debates what he can make for you. He doesn't want to simply reheat leftovers for you—it feels like a waste of his talents. He can do so much more for you. He knows your preferences by now; he's seen the dishes you pass over and the ones you take seconds from. He hides his unpreparedness by distracting you with lighthearted conversation.
After a few minutes, you stand up and fill the kettle for a pot of tea. He can’t help but sneak glances from the corner of his eye as you move around the castle kitchen like you know it as well as he does. It doesn't escape his notice that you place two cups on the counter, or that you reach past the sugar in the cupboard and grab a jar of honey instead. You always seem to remember the little things he likes and doesn't like, the same way he remembers those things about you.
Dinner is plated not long after the tea is steeped and ready to drink. He looks forward to finally being able to focus on you, showing you the utmost respect and attention you deserve. He sits on a barstool next to you while you both chat idly over a plate of sandwiches and a light salad. He’s not used to this type of quiet intimacy and he hopes you don't notice. Your fingers nearly brush against his own when you both reach for food off the same plate. He sips your delicious tea and hides his smile behind the rim of his cup when you tell him amusing stories about your work earlier in the day. Your murmured words of appreciation for inviting you tonight are pleasing. Sometimes you nudge his shoulder playfully like you crave his closeness and not only the services he offers you. It goes against everything he is—professional, poised, collected. He shouldn't like this as much as he does.
Maybe he's simply not used to having friends, with the exception of the Young Master he dutifully serves. He's cooked elaborate feasts for demon lords, of course—spending hours in the kitchen to ensure everything was made and plated to perfection, watching blandly as hours of his hard work is consumed within minutes, bowing at the waist when he acknowledges each polite compliment they offer him. Once he's walked you home and he can retire to his room to contemplate, he’ll wonder why your praise for his simple cooking and modest company feels so much more satisfying in comparison.
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whoistartaglia · 10 months
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Hi I’m kinda a boomer on tumblr so srry if I do this wrong or something
can I request a diluc taking care of injured reader (broken ribs, bones, yk the usual). He spends more time w/ you, buys you things to make u feel better, just him being the gentleman that he is ^^. And then when your injuries heal more, he helps you get used to physical activities and stuff like that.
Thank you! Have a great day
in sickness and in health
genshin men helping you recovery after an injury
diluc had to fight the urge to tell you he “told you so” after you returned home from a particularly dangerous adventure with quite a few bruises and fractures. he went white as a ghost when he saw you drag yourself back to the dawn winery, and even paler so when you nearly collasped in the doorway. needless to say, he spent the next few days right at your bedside—dressing your wounds, helping you take your medicines and healing salves. during this time, if you ask him if he’s been sleeping, he’ll look you dead in the eyes and tell you “you don’t want to know the answer.” when you do start to improve, diluc will actually leave your bedside for more than an hour. you’ll take a nap and wake up to an abundance of gifts and presents, and a bashful diluc explaining what each one is for. he’ll help you get back on your feet too, but is naturally weary if you want to go on another adventure right away—you just got better! what do you mean you want to go back out fighting and exploring? protest against this, and he might just need to drop the “i told you so” bomb.
childe makes himself nurse you back to health before hunting down the poor souls that did this to you. if you think you feel extra bloodlust radiating off of him at this time, you’d be right. he’s livid, truthfully, but he’s pushing that aside to be a good and caring partner to you. he’s unsurprisingly talented at bandaging your cuts and applying creams and salves—after all, he’s had a plethora of injuries of his own of which to take care. childe will feed you meals in bed and act as a crutch should you have difficulty moving about. growing up with siblings, he’s naturally adept at feeding you in bed and taking care of you in general. once you are back on your feet and kicking, and childe deems you can, in his words, “survive a couple days without his illustrious care,” he’s going to go out and find whoever did this to you. there’s a glint in his eyes that spells trouble, but he did just help you recover some rather nasty injuries, so you give him a pass.
kazuha will halt all his travels, cancel all his plans, stop anything and everything, when you get injured. it doesn’t really matter if it’s a papercut or broken bones; his care is always attentive and efficient. having traveled around the world, kazuha is rather knowledgeable about natural medicine and different healing practices from different cultures. he has an innate ability to care for you, and you’ll find yourself getting better within days, if not hours, depending on the injury. during this time, kazuha will remain at one location, and regale you with tales and stories of his previous travels as you recover. what helps is that he’s so gentle when tending to you and your wounds. this calm nature is even more reassuring once you do start to get moving again; his soft encouragement does wonders for sore muscles and lingering doubts. kazuha will never push you too hard, and for that your grateful. when you are fully recovered, you’ll resume your travels, though may hear kazuha call “be careful dear!” every so often.
dottore might groan and grumble when you show up at his office, scratches and bruised and broken, but he’s truly worried in his own way. he’ll take care of you by the books—medicine at this time every day, bandages changed every hour, three meals on rotation. if you ever complain about bitter medicine or him insiting you need rest, the most you’ll get out of him is a pointed glare and raised eyebrow. he’s basically telling you to suck it up without outright telling you (though he’s not terribly opposed to the idea). if you really don’t like it, he’ll experiment with trying to make it better, or at the very least, mix it with sweet tea or honey. as for rest, dottore won’t budge. he’ll explain in medicinal terms you can’t quite wrap your head around why you need sleep and use big words about why your body heals more when you’re asleep. when he finishes this lengthy explanation, he’ll find you actually fell asleep, which hurt his feelings, but got the job done, at least. the only practice not by the books is dottore laying down next to you and pulling you in his arms, but looking back on it, you think this made you feel best most of all.
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veethefreeelf · 7 months
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Hello, I was wondering if I could make a request for jeonghannie 😢😢, how would he react to seeing you breastfeed your baby in front of him? And then he just wants to have sex and suck your tits like the baby 😢😢
Sorry Anon for 2 things. One, I took forever with this request and two, I might have gotten carried away (2.5K words, yikes). Anyway hope you enjoy it ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ Also big thanks to @leejihoonownsmyheart for giving me the courage to post this CHEERS 🥂
You’ve always wondered if you would be a good mother. Not because your childhood was bad, but because you never saw yourself as such a figure in anyone’s life. You were always the baby of all your friend groups and it took you quite some time to consider yourself an actual adult and not just an overgrown kid. 
Now, looking at the little angel in your arms, you find yourself wondering how you could ever have had such a thought. Sure, she just barely came out of you but overall, things have been pretty smooth. You have the instincts down but what you have better than anything else is the person whose eyes are looking at you two with so much adoration that you could just crumble right then and there.
“Well… Are you just going to sit there and stare at us?” you asked teasingly.
“If I could help I would angel, but pretty sure breastfeeding is going to be an ‘only you’ task” he said as he smirked. You smiled at each other and as you continued feeding your little angel you looked back at your relationship with him.
Yoon Jeonghan. Before you met him, you never had been one to settle down. You had been in relationships sure, but nothing that had lasted more than 6 months max. You always ended up realizing the person in front of you just wasn’t your forever person and you had to move on. At one point, you even considered the fact that maybe you just weren’t built for love. Well, romantic love, you knew when it came to your friends and family, you loved fiercely and unconditionally, however, when it came to romantic relationships, things just… fizzled down and you always ended up realizing you had never felt true love before.
But boy did that all change when you met him. You were crazy about him from the very beginning and you tried to keep him away to try and protect your fragile heart. But he was having none of it and kept breaking through your walls with ease and he did it consistently and with purpose, because what you didn’t know was that he had been just as crazy for you as you were for him, since the very beginning. 
Five years later and looking at the little family you two have built, you find it funny how you could have ever had such ridiculous thoughts about yourself and how you could ever have doubted him. 
And, at this moment, after five years of knowing Jeonghan, he still manages to surprise you with the next sentence that comes out of his mouth while staring at his perfect girls. 
“So, baby, when is it my turn?” he asked with such a shit eating grin. You lifted your head and stared at him. His eyes had that familiar spark they usually have when he wants to absolutely wreck you, and he is darting his beautiful orbs between your eyes and your breasts where your baby girl is currently finishing up her meal. 
Once you realize what he means, you start laughing and ask him “Do I look like an open buffet to you, Yoon Jeonghan?”
“Hmm… You do look like a five-course meal, angel” he teases.
“Wow… That was incredibly cheesy even for you, Hannie. Oof… I think you might be losing your spice, baby” you teased.
“Losing my spice, huh? Well, we’ll just see about that later tonight won’t we, angel?” he said as he crossed the room to you.
He kissed you in your temple and held your baby girls’ hand and said “When she’s done with her dinner, I’ll get her to sleep, angel. You can go and do your night time routine, yeah? Look nice and pretty for me, hmm?”
You knew exactly what he meant and you swallowed hard. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him before but also, who are you kidding? You want this as bad as he does.
Once your baby girl was done, he picked her up to have their own bonding time as he always puts it. Jeonghan is the proudest when it comes to bonding time with his daughter and he takes it very seriously. He always makes sure to be the one to get her to sleep and, on nights where he can’t be present, it always eats away at him and he feels incredibly guilty for missing out on his baby girl’s bedtime.
You go through your night routine (shower, lots of skincare, lots of hair care) and you are now standing in front of your closet wondering what kind of night this will be.
Is it a normal underwear kind of night? Is it a lingerie kind of night? Or maybe a Hannie shirt and nothing underneath kind of night? You choose the latter. From the look in his eyes earlier, this calls for the option that will make him the craziest for you, and he has always said, there’s nothing better in this world than looking at you wearing just his clothes and nothing else. A possessive little thing he is, but in the best of ways.
You go to bed waiting for him but you find yourself so tired that you start to doze off. Later, you wake up to his lips on you. He feels so warm and he is kissing you so delicately, you think you might still be dreaming.
“Sorry, angel. Baby girl took longer than usual to fall asleep. Hmm… I was just going to let you sleep but I got here and you’re in my shirt and smelling so heavenly, I couldn’t help myself” he said as he continued kissing down your neck and climbing on top of you. 
“Hannie…” you moaned.
“Yeah, angel. You want me to continue or you want me to let you sleep? Your choice, baby, but choose now before I go insane” he says leaning his forehead in yours.
“Want you, Hannie. Don’t stop, please” you whispered. 
He sat back on his knees and took his shirt off. You kept staring at him and wondering how you even got this fucking lucky. You’d have to pray to all the gods and the universe tomorrow.
“Angel, you can’t look at me like that. With those innocent eyes when I know that what’s going on behind them is not even close to being innocent”. 
You sit up and start kissing him. Properly, taking your time. It feels like ages ago since you last just sat and kissed like this. Deeply, so profound that you forget everything else around you. You then start kissing down his neck as he starts massaging your breasts. You stop for a bit and he senses your hesitation. 
“What do you think, angel? Is it my turn now?” he asks, looking you in the eyes as he keeps caressing your breast with one hand and holds your face with the other. 
“What… What if it… You know… Comes out?” you asked in such a low voice you almost sounded like a scared child. 
“Angel, you’re my wife. The mother of my child. You are my whole world. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. This is the most natural thing in the world and I want you so fucking bad. I want them” he says while massaging your breasts now with both hands.
“I want them so bad. I’ve tried hinting at it before but I didn’t know if you were ignoring it or if you weren’t getting the hint. But I want all of you. You know how sexy it is that you carried my child? That you brought our baby into this world? Fuck, everytime I think about it, it drives me fucking insane” he says while leaning his forehead in yours.
“Hmm… Mommy kink, Hannie?” you say, now smiling.
“More like a You kink, angel. Everything about You, always” and before you can tease him again about that line, he starts kissing you, taking your (well, his) shirt off of you and, in no time, you are in the position you were in when this all started.
He is kissing down your neck and his fingers are moving closer and closer to where you desperately want him to be. He kisses your chest, just below your collarbones and he starts running his fingers through your folds.
“Fuck… You are so wet, angel… It seems I’m not the only one wanting to try this huh?” he says in such a cocky way. You wish you had the strength to tease him back but you are getting way too desperate for his touch.
“It’s you, Hannie… The way you talk about me… About this… Fuck, please, keep going” you are now whining and getting more and more desperate.
As he starts slowly touching your clit, he moves his mouth and his free hand to your breasts. He quickly latches his mouth on one of your nipples and starts kissing it, devouring it. He’s making such sloppy noises, if it was anyone else in the world you would be so fucking embarrased but he keeps humming and moaning as he suckles and makes out with your tit.
You find yourself getting closer and closer, the fire in your core is igniting fast, too fast for your liking.
“Hannie. Hannie. I’m.. I’m close. Slow.. Slow down, please” you pant, barely making sense. He then pushes one finger… Then a second finger into your pussy and keeps reaching into that one spot inside you that makes your mind go completely blank.
“Shhh, let go, angel. Fuck, I can feel your cunt squeezing around my fingers, you’re dripping on me. Just let go, I got you” he whispers while still latched to your nipple and staring you in the eyes. 
He kept going, getting sloppier, getting louder and staring at you like you are the most precious piece of art. His fingers have set the right pace and he has his thumb circling your clit with just the right pressure. Everything sounds so filthy and it’s what pushes you over the edge with a moan of his name.
He helps you come down from your high and is now kissing you all over your face and whispering “good girl. You were so good for me. I love you so much”. When you are back down on earth, you start kissing him back and you can feel just how hard he is. It must be painful at this point. He’s practically humping you and moaning praises while kissing you. You reach down to palm him through his (still very on) pants and you start massaging his cock.
“Hannie… You’re so hard, baby. Get those clothes off and get inside me. I can’t wait anymore…” you whispered in his ear between kisses.
He groans and quickly strips down. He’s now sitting back on his heels in the bed with you between your legs and he pushes your legs open. As open as they can be and he starts staring at you while running his hand through your leg. He takes his other hand and starts stroking his cock while staring down at you.
“Fuck, angel. One of these days, you’ll kill me. Look at you, all fucked out from me sucking your tit and touching you. I’ve barely started with you and you’re already so wrecked” he keeps stroking himself and staring at you. You lick your lips and start pouting.
“Hannie… You can make yourself come on me any other day, but tonight, please, fuck me. I need you inside of me, so bad” you say in your best innocent voice that you know drives him crazy.
“You sure you’re ready for me, angel? Don’t want to overwhelm you” he says. Then two things run through your mind. One: he looks like he wants to fucking wreck you but he is still giving you the option to stop him since he knows that after the birth of your girl you both have been very careful and well, for lack of a better world, vanilla in bed due to doctor’s orders and some of your fears. And two: you are the luckiest woman alive.
“Please, Hannie. I’m ready, I’m so ready. I need you now. I need everything. I’ll give you everything” you moan while staring back at him so he knows that you fucking mean it.
He leans over you, kisses you deeply, tells you he loves you and starts rubbing the tip of his cock on your pussy. He holds your hand above your head and stares into your eyes as he pushes himself into you, finally. You’re both panting and giggling and kissing, like teenagers. 
At first, he starts slow. Long, well-timed strokes. Holding your hand and your hip in position, making sure your legs stay as open as possible for him.
“Faster, Hannie. I’m not gonna break. Please” you moan. 
“Hmm.. My angel wants to get fucked hard, huh? Seems like my angel is a little slut tonight, isn’t she?” he said as he started speeding up and fucking you harder and harder and you moan louder and louder.
He slaps your thigh. “I need words, slut. Fucking tell me what you want. Tell Hannie what you want”.
“Fuck… Hannie… I‘m a slut tonight. Your slut… Please…” you said, completely and already fucked out of your mind.
“Shit… That’s right… Mine… All fucking mine” he says and groans. He’s getting closer and so are you.
He removes your hand from his and grabs on to your tit while his other hand is now rubbing circles on your clit. He starts sucking on your tit that he overlooked earlier tonight and keeps massaging the other. He starts rubbing your nipple and making out with your other tit and nipple. Again, getting sloppy, making the most obscene sounds. 
He senses you’re close. He knows, he can tell by the way you are moaning, by the look in your eyes and by the way your pussy is squeezing his cock. He’s not going to last much longer either, not like this and he goes in for the kill.
“Is my angel close? I know you are, I can feel it. Fuck… I’m right behind you” he speeds up, latches back on to your nipple and for the final blow, he slightly bites down on it and that’s when everything erupts. You come with a cry of his name. You’re shaking and panting and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so pure and beautiful.
He comes then with a groan and keeps whispering ‘I love you’ over and over again.
You just lay there together, you don’t know for how long. You’re holding him, one hand running through his hair and another running up and down his back. He lifts his head and looks at you. He then surprises you again with what comes out of his mouth.
“I knew you were gonna love that. You’re tits have always been so sensitive, specially your nipples, angel” he starts laughing against your neck.
“I guess it’s an open buffet after all” you said and you both burst into laughter still tangled together.
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sanguineterrain · 3 months
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Hi, I love your fics. Feel free to say no to this request but I was wondering if maybe you could write something about asexual Jason Todd? I've always felt like he'd be aspec and identified with him because of that. You write intimacy and love without sex so well, and it'd be wonderful to see it with ace Jason. Maybe one where he tells the reader and he's really scared but they accept him? But if you don't want to, completely fine. Thank you for sharing your writing. 🧡
Hey there nonnie. This one is very personal to me; I'm also ace and have often had the thought that Jason is aspec too. I think sometimes I write him that way without realizing it. I hope you and others enjoy this one! 💓
asexual!jason todd x gn!reader. tw sexuality discussion, some internalized acephobia, love confession. please be kind in the comments.
****
Rain patters on the kitchen window. You'd come over with the excuse of the two egg and cheese sandwiches from the bodega Jason likes so much.
"I think I could eat egg and cheese sandwiches for every meal," he says, mustard on his nose.
You want to say something stupid. Something about bringing him egg and cheese sandwiches in the rain forever. Something about a grave and hunger and what it means to be fed, to feed.
"From anywhere or specifically from the bodega?" you ask.
"Bodega, obviously. Alfred's, too. And yours. Food made with love." He shakes the foil. "I can taste the love."
"Jason?"
"Hm?"
"I..." You touch your nose. "Mustard."
He wipes it off. The thin takeout napkin is tiny in his hand.
"Don't even know how it got up there," he mumbles.
Oh, God. You're about to say something stupid.
"I love you," you blurt. "I—I'm falling in love with you, Jason."
Silence. Jason freezes mid-bite.
"Fuck," he whispers.
You watch as he springs from the couch and starts to pace. He chews on a cuticle, eyes wild. The sandwich is abandoned on the coffee table. You frown.
"Jason. Jay. Hey. Jaybird."
Nothing. You catch his free hand and rub his knuckles. Jason's eyes dart to you. He stops.
"I didn't say that to scare you," you say, even though it hurts, the idea that your love scares him. "It's okay if you don't feel the same."
"I do," Jason says miserably. "Fuck, I do. I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
You squeeze his hand, suddenly, incandescently happy.
"You do?" you ask.
"But I—" He shakes his head. "I can't love you the way you want me to."
"Jay, whatever you think coming back did, I promise that—"
"No." Jason swallows hard and shuts his eyes. "God, that's the thing. 'S not from the Pit. I thought—y'know, I waited for everything to slide into place. The Lazarus Pit is s'posed to resurrect a person. Build them anew. But I felt the same."
"Felt the same?"
Jason looks at you then, and you know that expression. It's a plea. Don't use this information to hurt me.
You tug him back to the couch, coax him into sitting. He very carefully doesn't let any part of him touch you.
"I didn't, uh, have a name for it when I was younger. I didn't, like, think about sex or anything like that very much before B took me in 'cause I was in survival mode, y'know?"
"That makes sense, Jay," you offer gently.
"Right. Well, but it just... stayed that way. And before you ask, yeah, I've tried. I've tried to force the feelings." He takes a shaky breath. "I remember Dick telling me about how he'd started dating Kori—I mean, Kori, she's beautiful, y'know? And I was like, what's wrong with me that I can't feel that? I knew that she was beautiful, logically, but I didn't... feel it. I picked it apart for months, trying to figure out why I couldn't be like him or B or Selina."
"Oh, Jay..."
"No, I know. I tried. I crushed on a few people, but I never acted on it 'cause I knew there was something... different. Something to hide. And then I thought the Pit would give that to me, that feeling I've never had, and it didn't. And I guess I should be happy that it's not something that needs to be fixed or restored or whatever, but all I feel is shame. I feel sick when someone looks at me like I'm a piece of meat. I attract more attention with how I look now, and it's worse than before, having no control over how people desire me."
You frown. "Jason, if I've ever made you feel that way, I hope you'd tell me. I'm sorry if I have."
"No, you—you're perfect. God, you make me feel so safe. Cared for in a way I haven't known in a long time. And that's why this is so shit. 'Cause this won't work. You want something I can't give you."
"Who says I don't want what you can give me?"
Jason laughs. It comes out choked. "Oh, no, no. You don't know what you're saying. Maybe it'll take six months or a year or two years but you'll get fed up with not having sex. I'm not worth celibacy. I know I'm not."
"Jason." You lightly touch his cheek. He looks at you, eyes wet. "Oh, Jay. Why do you think that? Why do you think you're only good for your body?"
"Hah. I've only been good for my body for years now. 'S nothing new, and it doesn't matter whether I'm a boyfriend or a soldier."
"Jason. It does matter. It does. You're not a body to me, you're a person. A brain. A heart. A good soul."
He blinks fast. "Don't... y'don't have to say that stuff. Let me down easy. It's okay if you leave. I don't have what you want."
"But you do. There's no reason you don't. Sex? I can do without."
He scoffs. "That easy, huh?"
"With you? Yes," you say. "Easiest choice I've ever made, actually. Like deciding to bring you a breakfast sandwich. I woke up and I did that. Because I love you."
His fingers creep to yours. You hold them as soon as he's within reach.
"I'm not gonna change," he says.
Jason thinks it's a warning. You see it for what it is: hope.
"That's alright," you say, squeezing his hand. "I'm not trying to change you."
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