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amaradangeli · 2 years

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Chenford + Accidental confession?

Here there be lite-smut. Read with that warning.

Lucy presses herself against the wall behind her trying to put much space between her body and Tim's as possible. He presses forward against her and she bites back a groan of dual frustration.

She's got plenty to distract her right now. Their lives are quite literally on the line. It's ridiculous that her body is betraying her right now. She doesn't even have an exit strategy to cling to. Originally this little get-together would have been broken up by a raid, but now? They were going to have to ride it out.

Tim is taking his duty as a human shield very seriously and she really wishes he weren't. While one or both of them are more likely to be shot in this situation than any of their usual ones (and that's saying something), it's still probably not all that likely.

She puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back just enough that she can't feel him pressed against her from his jaw to his calves.

"You okay?" he asks lowly, his mouth near her ear.

"Yeah, I just need some space."

He gives it to her, but he feels it's necessary to remind her, "not too much. We already stand out here."

It's true, they do. There are at least three couples in the room who have moved past heavy petting and openly engaged in sex acts. The thing is, Lucy gets it. The drugs flow pretty liberally, they've learned, and the music at these parties is designed to heighten a good time. To stay, they needed to sell the impression that when the 3M made its rounds, they'd partaken. Lucy may not be trolling, but the atmosphere is certainly working on her. It really pisses her off.

Tim, for his part, couldn't be handling this more professionally if he tried. He's always touching her without actually touching her in any way she might take offense to while still looking to others like he's touching her. It's intoxicating. "I need more," she says through gritted teeth.

"Space?"

Pressure. Pleasure. "Yeah."

He huffs a little, his breath hot against her ear, and then repositions himself, dropping to his knees in front of her. To onlookers, it'll look like they're moving on to something more fun. In reality, the hands he's pushed up under her skirt aren't even against her skin. He's stretching the fabric away from her body, creating the space for him to be up under there without crossing any boundaries.

She throws her head back with frustration knowing that it looks like passion. He presses his forehead against her belly. It's fine. He's still not touching anything he shouldn't. Except she's so keyed up that she can feel the heavy weight of his head deep inside her, it's completely sexual and her brain sends her body the message to pull away to melt back into the wall, but instead, she presses against him. She's flushing with mortification when she feels him lose contact with her. She knows he's looking up at her.

She threads her fingers through his hair and encourages him back up. She feels bad, really, he just got down there.

"What's wrong?" the look on his face... god. Why is he being such a good damn guy? "You see something?"

"I need more space."

"If I give you any more space we're going to be really conspicuous." And he sounds so damned apologetic about it. "Tell me what I did. I won't do it again."

She laughs because she doesn't know what else to do. "You didn't do anything."

"So... we're good?"

She sighs. "We're good. But... can we sit?"

He glances down at her feet. Her sneakers have five-inch heels. "Oh. Uh — sure." He looks around. The options are pretty slim, and the only really good ones would put them right next to couples who are taking the theme of the party pretty seriously. She can almost see inspiration strike him when he snags a stool that looks like it goes with the drum kit in the corner and sits on it. "Okay. Sit." He gestures at his lap.

"Sit where?"

He scoots the stool closer to the wall she's leaning against and then carefully maneuvers one of her legs and then the other until she's mostly straddling him. "Sit."

Oh. Under the circumstances, though, it seems harmless enough. Except for the part where it takes away her ability to put some calming pressure exactly where she finds she needs it. But if she doesn't sit down right now, people are definitely going to start noticing something weird is going on. Her stance is unnatural, not to mention uncomfortable. So she sits.

His knees support her ass and she leans back against the wall. He scoots closer on the stool and she feels the jolt in all the ways she shouldn't. The sound she makes is suspicious even to her own ears.

"Okay," he says leaning forward into her space, selling the new configuration, "what's going on with you?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he leaves a space where her name would go if he were allowed to use it and if he felt comfortable using her cover's actual name. But he doesn't actually seem to be that comfortable with it, considering how he's done it only once — when he introduced her to Hajek.

She doesn't feel incredibly secure sitting in his lap like this, and her thighs are tense from holding her position. It makes sense to wrap her legs around him. It's probably what he intended. But the proximity they'll achieve at that point is potentially problematic. He taps the outside of one of her knees and she knows she interpreted his plan correctly. "I shouldn't do that."

"Why the fuck not?" he no longer sounds quite as understanding as he has all along, and she gets it. He'd done literally everything she's asked of him and she's been not at all forthcoming with him. Except... it's embarrassing.

She glares at him but wraps her legs around his waist. The action pulls the stool closer to the wall, and his hips closer to hers. He jostles her a little and all of a sudden the position is a lot more comfortable and a lot less precarious. "Oh, yeah. This is okay."

"Good." He gathers her closer, so he's holding her. "Now what's going on with you."

"Noth—"

"I swear to god if you finish that word I'm going to push the panic button right now."

"I'm turned on," she blurts out, because the last thing the need is for the cavalry to charge in and blow the whole thing to hell because she can't get her act together."

"You're..." he shakes his head. "You mean all of this," he gestures at her face and the weirdness that has been her body for a while, "has been because the party that's designed to turn everybody on worked?"

"We're working!" she objects. "I'm supposed to have my head in the game."

He very deliberately turns his head to the left and even though she knows what she's going to see, she follows his gaze. The woman is giving Hajek's right hand some very enthusiastic head. "Everybody is turned on. That's the point. And the only thing we've got to accomplish for the next few hours is getting through this party without making anybody think we don't belong here."

"This is not a safe situation," she feels obliged to remind him.

"Safe enough," he says. "If we don't blow our cover."

He shifts a little, wrapping his arm around her and using a flat hand on the small of her back as leverage to reposition her in his lap a little. It pulls her pelvis in closer to his. "I'm serious. This isn't helping."

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. "It's not just you."

"Yeah, but they have an excuse. The drugs are pretty—"

"What's my excuse, then?"

Her head snaps back so fast, so hard that she hits it against the wall behind her. His free hand immediately moves up to check her skull for damage. "You need an excuse?"

"Well, I didn't think I did until I realized how freaked out you were."

"It doesn't bother you that you're turned on?"

"No. But I am trying to respect our working relationship."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to respect your actual relationship."

"Not a consideration. Anymore."

"Oh."

"You're not worried about respecting your actual relationship?"

"Um, not a consideration anymore?"

"Ah."

She laughs then, relieved and amused and oh so frustrated. "You mean to tell me we've been surrounded by all of this for two weeks and just grinning and bearing it because we were both trying not to put the other one in a tough spot with significant others that no longer exist?"

"Babe," he says, using the endearment he prefers so much more than her cover name, and she immediately knows that the conversation they're having isn't doing a good job of maintaining their cover. There's a question in his eyes and while she's not entirely sure what it is, she's no longer concerned about anything other than making it through this situation.

She tightens the grip her legs have on his hips and the motion pulls him all the way against her and she's instantly sure that he hadn't been exaggerating to make her feel better. He's hard inside the loose-fitting jeans and now he's snugged up against her satin-covered center.

He uses the hand on her lower back and the one behind her head to pull her against him. She drops her head into his neck as he positions her better in his lap. She immediately misses the hard column of his cock and she's sure that when this is over, they're sending her wherever they send cops who can't focus on the job at hand.

"You good to do what needs to be done?" he asks, lips against her ear.

She only nods. She's sure he's not going to take things any further than absolutely necessary, even if her body is screaming for him to take advantage of the situation.

He kisses her then. It's nothing like the tentative, sweet kiss they'd shared in her living room but everything the end of that kiss had promised they'd have between them. She's always known Tim Bradford would have some game, but damn. He does this thing with the tip of his tongue against the tip of hers before tangling his tongue with hers and her clit throbs in response.

"Shit," she pants into his mouth when he pulled back a little, enough to give him the necessary leverage to snug their hips back together. She doesn't mean to roll her hips against him but she can't quite bring herself to care that she's lost all sense of propriety.

He tugs an earlobe with his teeth until it stings enough for her to gasp, then he soothes the sting away with a sucking she can feel like a string tugging inside her from her earlobe to her nipples, to her clit, to her toes. She makes a truly embarrassing and needy sound that makes his jaw clench against hers. "We've got an audience until that dude over there is ready to go again. Won't be long with the 3M."

"Yeah," she pants. "Fine. Just please." Her head falls back against the wall, his hand softening the blow. His stubble scratches at the sensitive skin over her collarbones as he sucks a mark into the skin directly opposite where her real-life tattoo would be. The hand behind her head travels down her shoulder, over the swell of her breast. She arches into his hand. He takes direction well, she learns, when the heat of his hand snakes under the loose hem of her cropped top. His fingers worry the lace over her hard nipple and she wants his mouth on her. Right now she doesn't care who would see.

He's got his act more together, though, and when he applies the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his teeth, it's with the lace and the cotton of her shirt between them. It's not enough and it's not what she really wants, but this is proof positive that she shouldn't be in charge of anything right now. She's glad he knows her well enough to know that no matter what her body is telling him, she's got lines she'll regret crossing.

"Hang on," he says.

She's barely got time to tighten her arms and legs around him before his standing. He presses her bodily into the wall and she can feel all the tightly coiled strength of him. He kisses her again, as his hips drive into hers.

"Fuck," she exhales. "You can't... I'll come from that."

"Either that, or you'll have to fake it."

She can feel his hands between them, he's undoing his pants. No, she realizes as he tugs her flannel shirt loose from where it's been pinned between them. He's pretended to undo his pants. She reaches between them, tugs the skirt and shirt fabric into better places and tries to make it look like she's moving her underwear. Their hands tangle between their legs and she feels the backs of his fingers against the damp, warm satin between her thighs.

He grunts as he kisses her and pushes her hand out of the way. He pushes the fingers of the hand he'd just had between her legs into her mouth and she knows what it'll look like to observers and she rolls with it, but the truth is, the salt on his skin, the unique taste of him is enough for her to fully sell this anyway. He thrusts against her again, it feels real. She's sure it looks real.

The spiked heel of one shoe slips and digs into his ass. He hoists her up higher and it's probably one of the best singular sexual experiences of her life, being manhandled by him this way. The next thrust comes with a roll of his hips that pulls on the hood of her clit and gives him something more of a thrill too because she can feel the way his body shudders against her.

His next thrust is more utilitarian. He's trying to be polite, she realizes when his next several are also straight and to the point. It's unbelievable for her. The impact continues to drive her closer and closer to the edge that he doesn't care if she leaps off of. "It's okay," she says against his hot mouth, around his tongue. "Make it feel good."

The sound he makes against her ear sets off a corresponding flood of wetness. She can feel the way she tightens, clutching for something she's not getting. Her hand falls between them, her fingers on her clit, the soaked satin providing no barrier for sensation.

The backs of her fingers are against him when he makes the next roll against her. His presence forces her fingers down and between and she cries out. She can't get her fingers inside herself, but she can do the next best thing. When he thrusts again, makes the satisfying hip roll, he finds her hand turned to cup him, to squeeze him. "Fuck, babe." The words sound real, not practiced, not the next best option to a name he doesn't like.

"Are we faking this or what?"

He pulls back, his eyes boring into hers. "You'd rather fake it?"

Her mouth falls open and he uses the opportunity to thrust his tongue in. It feels filthy, she's sure it looks it. "God," she pants between thrusts, "no."

"Then come, baby."

It takes two more thrusts, a swivel, and her fingers slipping past the edge of the satin, the visceral knowledge of how slick she is, to catapult her over the edge. She comes with shudders and when it's over she finds that her damp hand is against his cheek and his hips are flexing against hers. He's not faking it either.

When she wrenches her gaze away from his, she casts around to find that nobody's even watching them anymore. The couple on the couch has moved on to their own main event.

"You okay for me to put you down?"

"Oh. Uh..." she doesn't know how to tell him that she's not sure her legs are going to hold her. That seems like the most embarrassing thing so far.

"Hang on." He hooks the stool with a foot and pushes it under her ass, lowering her onto it gently. He turns a little, so he can make it look like he's doing up his pants. She can see both their fluids on the denim quite clearly and she feels a renewed flush of arousal.

He untucks the white undershirt he's wearing beneath his flannel and tugs it down in front of his fly. Then he stands there, looking at loose ends. She doesn't think he's suddenly feeling shy. "You wanna sit?"

"If you sit on my lap right now, even without the 3M we're going again."

She can't help but laugh at him. She should have known that this would be easy with him, too. "Okay, fine. Can we go?"

"Maybe." He looks around, and spots Hajek in the corner. "Stay here, stay sharp. I'm gonna go get a hall pass."

"Okay." She waits until he's halfway across the room. "Ask nicely, baby, I need a shower."

He throws a smirk over his shoulder that looks every bit the part they're supposed to be playing. Maybe an extra week undercover won't be so bad, after all.

The music:

#chenford #comment fic #smut #this one got dirty #I'm pretty sure this isn't the confession you had in mind #but I don't mind it

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egophiliac · 5 months

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I have SO many thoughts about everything and they are in no kind of order yet, so here's just some quick little bits in the meantime!

I am not normal about any of these characters!

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 part 6 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 part 6 spoilers #me just staring at the ceiling thinking about anime characters #if i start talking about the big stuff now it's going to turn into a huge rambling mess so in the meantime #i did not get sebek (yet) (i need to contemplate my gems...) but i did see his groovy #he is just full-on cinderella-sparkles bibbidi-bobbidi-booing into that armor! magnificent.#and i really don't have enough words for how much i love tiny malleus. he is perfect. he is precious. he is everything to me.#he knows who his dad is no matter what some crusty dead talking ectoplasm blobs say #(man no wonder lilia's got hangups if THAT was the general attitude he was getting)#('eww you got your dirty bat cooties on the prince' go sit in the corner with mrs. rosehearts you absolute garbage)#(...i did kind of love that lilia started to wake up because the senate said one nice thing to him)#(and he immediately was like 'this is not reality')#(sounds about right)#on a lighter note i was just. SO charmed by the little throwaway about ✨dragon lord consort esteemed diplomat revaan✨#who picks the vegetables out of his food and hides them under the tablecloth #everything i learn about this man makes me like him more. he was SO dumb.#now we know where malleus gets it from i guess #also unrelated but once again the fact that i named my mc tamago has had unintentional consequences #tamago take the tamago and tamago tamagao tamago #frikkin love that when yuu gives the egg back you can just be like 'i love him. this is my baby now.' 100% accurate.#also yuu continually referring to malleus as tsunotarou even to the senate = amazing. yuu really has NO self-preservation or awareness.#they fit right in with everyone else #<- see what did i tell you. huge rambling mess.#and i haven't even BEGUN to talk about MELEANOR -- (is dragged offstage by a hook)

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avnasace · 7 months

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(edited for spoiler warnings jjk spoilers ch236) gojo and geto now having the same death anniversary, megumi's body being used to kill someone he loves AGAIN, gojo's students all watching him get sliced in half, gojo wishing geto was a teacher, the fever dream conversation with Geto, Haibara and Nanami, oh gege we are in your walls for real this time you were cruel for this...

#im devastated #also not gojo and dazai in one week come ON bro #so many Ls for gojo winners this week #gege did him So dirty #im kinda unhappy wirh how he handled rhis but oh well we will see next week #gojo satoru #geto suguru #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #haibara yu #jjk236 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #ace rambles #i put spoilers in the tags but edited to add to post apologies to anyone who got spoiled)

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 6 months

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Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions.

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself.

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many.

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you.

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped.

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it.

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake.

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one.

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something.

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze.

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it.

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting.

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him.

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed.

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes.

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous.

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason.

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?”

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.”

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances.

But what about your lives were normal?

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #spoilers #and thats how later astarion found himself on stage with a killer clown #whoops #still fluffy i'd say #I got a soft (in comparison to cough alternatives) jealousy trilogy in mind so one more dirty part. Also #side note #in reality everyone in your party is attractive and probably gets flirted with an equal amount at the caress #but I love the idea of astarion being hyper focused on you.

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bonefall · 3 months

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Anyway. Bi and Mspec Lesbians aren't a hotly "debated" topic or even new to queer culture, it's just the newest thing that bullies who REALLY want to be homophobic and even racist use to justify harassing gay people they don't like.

It's the thinnest possible veneer of progressive language wrapped around TERF and reactionary rhetoric so that they can feel righteous for forming an angry mob against vulnerable targets. If you're gullible enough to fall for the newest wave of bigotry within the queer community, and turn on your allies because they're "confusing" or "invading your spaces," the SAME way they turned on bi/pan labels, trans people, xenogenders, neopronouns, and aroace people before this, then get lost.

#No patience. Wither and rot.#These motherfuckers dogpiled the legend who leaked the no fly list because it identified as the wrong type of lesbian.#They will attack the people doing DIRECT ACTION over dumbfuck label discourse. Deeply unserious people.#Embarrassing to think that there are rubes out there who keep falling for this #For ALL our sakes I hope this is literally their first rodeos and they really haven't fallen for this bullshit twice.#But unfortunately I'm too old to be that hopeful.#I didn't get to see the big ''public block list'' made for us dirty queers who support or are bi/mspec lesbians but I hope I was on it #If a man is best judged by his enemies then exclusionists who echo terf rhetoric are the ones I WANT to have.#And ''public lesbian block list'' is in quotes because if you REALLY thought that such a thing wasn't a ''GO HARASS THESE PEOPLE'' charter-#--then you have a black mold where your brain used to be and it's rapidly eating into the bathroom tile you call a skull #Unironically you should not have a platform if you are THAT stupid or malicious to think it was anything BUT a harassment charter #I hope they're ashamed.#Context for those unaware: a flesh-eating amoeba created a public blocklist for people who supported bi lesbians #Minors and extremely small creators without big platforms were on that list #People got harassed but the most namely was Lockandkeyhyena who had people raiding his server with racial slurs and death threats.#I hope everyone involved sees who their ''allies'' are when they spread that sentiment.#A bunch of people ACTUALLY 'invading someone's space' to post the n-word and suicidebait.#THAT is who you appeal to. Sit with that.

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aro-aizawa · 8 months

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i like to think everyone has a colour associated with them, whether its just your fave colour or what you generally wear most of or what colour your bedroom walls are. i always associate the name sophie with dark blue, my mum is always a nice turquoise, i like to think my colour is a bright sunflower yellow.

if you have a specific shade pls tell me i adore when ppl have associated colours and tell me them, bc i think of them when i see that colour

#shut up danni's talking #its one of my ultimate favourite aspects of character designs and i will forever use it w my characters #but i also think abt it w ppl!!!!#its almost certainly spawned from a combo of my mum passionately loving her colour + my primary school #my primary school's name/theme/whatever was related to the rainbow #its common for primary schools in the uk for the uniform to be polo shirts and schools would pick a colour and that was your uniform #but w my school's theme being rainbows they were like lol whatever colour as long as you're in a polo shirt #so kids would choose whichever shirt colour they wanted some kids switched it up every year #others stuck w the colour they chose all 6 years #so of course i would correlate ppl w colours which is how i always relate sophie w dark blue #bc i'd play w this girl called sophie in the afterschool club who always wore dark blue through all the years i knew her #tbh i still think of my brother also as dark blue bc he would wear the same colour #if you could not guess my colour was yellow and i always felt distinctly wrong when i had to wear a different colour #there were a couple times i had to borrow a new shirt bc mine got dirty or all mine hadn't been washed so i had to wear my brother's #i don't know if its just me but i feel like everyone has an affinity with a colour even if its n9t your fave #hence the poll lmao

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months

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Call that a Cave Story.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wen chao #wang lingjiao #mianmian #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #I had to cut the comic with JC 'holding WWX back from fighting the Wen Assholes' but it is with me in spirit.#It reads (to me) a little bit like JC is scared of Core Melting Hand and wants to have an excuse to hold on to WWX for comfort.#As far as I can recall they are around 15-17 in this arc.#And a guy who can rip out your golden core? The thing we know JC truly puts so much weight upon that he feels meaningless without it?#Yeah that's pretty terrifying. I hope WWX hugs back (he will not)#I have a lot more thoughts on Wang Lingjiao and Mianmian but I will keep them for later.#WLJ is a character I feel got done a little dirty because she has a ton of interesting potential that gets pushed aside for Mean Villainess #Let's be fully honest. Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao are *THE* characters the Protag of one of those 'Reincarnated as the villain!' stories #Set up to be assholes to the main character and meeting a horrible end in retribution.#Do you think MXTX thought about that? How Wen Chao is basically the original Shen QiugQiu?#Who's going to be the brave soul who writes A transmigrator in wen chao's body (accidently makes wwx fall in love with him) story?#Though If we are going with “any mxtx character sho dies transmigrates to another book” WHO is the transmigrator?#Hear me out. I think it should be Original Liu Qingge. I think he and wwx would make a funny duo and I want to see it so bad.#AND the contrast of womanizer Wen Chao VS 'What is a woman' LQG.

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cungader0 · 1 year

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what the dogs doin

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team furtress 2 #sniper tf2 #medic tf2 #heavy tf2 #scout tf2 #pyro tf2 #soldier tf2 #engineer tf2 #spy tf2 #demoman tf2 #this might be controversial bc people usually make scout a terrier BUT #he is speed of course he’s gonna be a greyhound. tf. debated making him an iggy but he’s got too much personality for a dog that small.#all of the other ones should be basic tho <3 #when the tf2 and the dogs and the #andy says shit #also quick edit to all the people saying sniper should be a borzoi you are WRONG he is too dirty and not nearly majestic enough

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sapphic-agent · 22 days

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I can't believe how mixed-up the fandom (and the LOK writers) get Katara and Zuko's characters.

I want to make this clear, just because she grew up during the war, doesn't mean Katara was forced to fight. I honestly don't know where people get this from. Her cultural norms very blatantly dictate for her not to. It was something she vehemently struggled against to be able to do. It was always her initiative and choice to fight because that's who Katara is; a warrior.

Hell, she's even reveled in dominating her opponents and showing off her skills in battle

But you know who was forced to fight? You know whose skewed concepts of honor dictated him to fight? You know whose society urged him towards participating in war? You know who was the most at-ease and relaxed working peacefully in his uncle's tea shop?

The entire concept of Zuko's character is that he doesn't easily thrive as a warrior and doesn't enjoy fighting if he can avoid it. One of the key things he learns post-redemption is that fire isn't just a force of destruction, it's also life and passion. And that's what allows him to be a better firebender later.

So it makes no sense that Katara gave up on fighting before Zuko. And don't misunderstand, both of them should have been still relatively active (because Zuko is a warrior too and the point of this post is not to claim he isn't). But between the two of them, Zuko would have been the one to embrace peace and retire

#katara deserved better #zuko deserved better #?#not really since out of the gaang he got the best deal #give katara her statue #AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING #if anyone would be “humble” about a statue it would have been zuko #katara would have loved that shit #i still can't believe they didn't give my girl her due respect #that one thing almost ruined lok for me #lok critical #i still love it #but they did katara dirty #katara #zuko

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hellspawnmotel · 2 months

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🕰️

#rest well toriyama-sensei #i hope wherever you are now it has more cigarettes and dirty mags and model cars than one man could ever smoke or read or build #chrono trigger #art tag #i know he was only the art director on ct but its my strongest personal connection with him #so much of my design sense can be traced back to it and other jrpgs #and i wouldnt have gotten into old jrpgs if i hadnt played it as a teen #thank you for everything youve done for mankind!#(btw click this the quality got nerfed for the crime of being horizontal)

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asliceofzosan · 6 months

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in which Zoro takes the blame for not paying for the food at the Baratie (sequel to Sanji witnessing the riceball incident in Shells Town)

Ribeye steaks piled one on top of the other, a massive helping of mashed potatoes with boatloads of gravy, salads, soups, and fancy dishes with names Zoro can't pronounce — all made up the massively long order list that he knows Luffy has not a single Berry to his name to pay with.

Zoro looks around the place, tuning out the story of the giant goldfish that Usopp has told them before, his eyes resting on the blonde waiter flitting about and flirting with every woman at every table.

Sanji was his name. Zoro didn't recognize it. But when he arrived to their table and saw Zoro, it looked like their resident waiter recognized him. Zoro's reputation in the East Blue is not a laughing matter, so it didn't bother him at first. But the way Sanji stared at him, wide blue eyes and with a touch of a smile on his lips, told Zoro that there's something a lot more than recognition swimming in that man's head.

He can't put a finger on what it is exactly though. It's driving him crazy.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

Sanji turns to him and nearly steps back in shock. Zoro quirks an eyebrow, confused and a little annoyed. He wore his best clothes today (Captain's orders). And he's pretty sure he even took his mandatory once-a-week bath before they went inside (Nami's orders). Still the waiter looked at him like Zoro had grown a second head. Like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Maybe there really is something wrong with your eye," Zoro muses, crossing his arms as Sanji quickly straightens his posture and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Got a problem with me, waiter?"

Sanji coughs out a laugh. Zoro notes with narrowed eyes that there is the slightest tint of pink coloring his cheeks. Is he blushing? The fuck?

"None at all, sir. I think I was just seeing things." The look in the waiter's eyes betrays his statement but Zoro chooses to say nothing. With a practiced smile, he turns back to Nami and asks her how she'd like her water that makes Zoro stare at him this time like he's grown a second head.

"And um..." Zoro is surprised Sanji hasn't left yet and is once again directly addressing him. "We have a few specialty riceballs not on the menu today. I'll bring them out... on the house."

Without even explaining what the fuck that meant, Sanji turns on his heels and beelines straight for the kitchen.

"I think Nami's boyfriend might be yours too, Zoro." Usopp teases him with a snicker and the glare he gives him is sharper than the blades of his swords.

Now, here Zoro is, letting Ussop's words affect him more than they have any right to as he downs his third bottle of beer.

The specialty rice balls haven't come out yet. Zoro's starting to think it's just a sick joke. But he doesn't let it get to him. Or tries to. Why offer free food when you can't deliver on it? Fucking ridiculous. And no, it's not like he suddenly craved rice balls when the blasted waiter mentioned them. That's not it at all. Bullshit.

"Didn't the waiter said he's coming by with rice balls?" Zoro finally snaps and the conversation his crew was having died down immediately at his statement. Ah fuck. He probably should have just kept his mouth shut because Nami was now looking at him with a shit-eating grin not entirely unlike the one he gave her when he teased her before the meal.

"How would you like them, oh great swordsman?" She teases with a glint in her eye. She cups her cheeks with her hands in delight at the irritated snarl Zoro gives her.

"With or without seaweed?" Ussop chimes in.

"Cubed or crushed?"

"Fuck off," Zoro hisses between his teeth. Nami and Ussop share a look before bursting into laughter. Zoro looks over at Luffy who was swinging his feet and obliviously sipping his milk. When Luffy makes eye contact with him, he just tilts his head with wide blank eyes and it makes Zoro question all his life choices.

"You wanna ask him?" Luffy says, already clamoring over the booth and waving at the object of Zoro's unexplained irritation. Zoro sinks into the seat as Sanji approaches with the bill for their meal.

"Your bill, sir."

"Zoro's asking if you're gonna bring the rice balls you promised." Zoro just stared up at the ceiling and thought of a million different ways to cut a hole into the floor so that the ocean could take him.

There is a headache inducing silence that follows Luffy's question. Zoro can't help but finally look at the waiter and he doesn't know how to explain the feeling that bubbles up when they make direct eye contact. Maybe it's indigestion. It's probably indigestion.

Instead of bringing up the damn rice balls, Zoro just grabs the tray with the bill from Luffy's hand. Just as expected, his annoyingly endearing captain put down an I.O.U for the ridiculously long list of food they ordered. Several possible scenarios could happen from this. And Zoro doesn't want to think about Luffy wreaking havoc in someone else's kitchen.

With a deep sigh through his nose and a knowing look at Nami, Zoro wrote down his own name in place of Luffy's.

"Zoro, what—" Luffy almost took the bill back when Zoro stood up and handed it directly to the waiter, who looked just as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

"If your head chef's got a problem with that, he can talk to me directly. Tell him that for me, won't you?" Sanji takes the bill, reads what's written, and there's a phantom lurch in his chest that happens when Sanji looks up at him and smiles. Zoro doesn't want to describe it. He'll allow himself to firmly believe that it's a side effect of eating too much food. It's indigestion. You're just constipated. Never mind that the feeling is most prominent in his chest and not his stomach.

"Of course, sir." Sanji purrs and the sound runs like a cold river down Zoro's spine. There's a hint of mischief in the gleam of his visible eye. Every instinct in Zoro tells him it's dangerous. He should take his crew out of here, onto the Merry, and run.

But he stays rooted to the spot, wrist limp on the hilt of his sword, as he watches that damn waiter walk away from him.

"WHO THE HELL IS RORONOA ZORO?!"

The steady routine of washing the dishes helps quiet Zoro's racing mind.

It's a very welcome distraction. The clinking of the ceramic against metal utensils provides a cacophonous symphony that helps drown out all of Zoro's waking thoughts. The sooner he starts to think, the sooner he starts to notice how that stupid fucking waiter has just been sitting at the table behind him, cursing Zoro with his mere presence.

Scrub scrub scrub...

"You sure you don't want any help?"

Scrub scrub rinse...

"No."

Scrub rinse dry...

"I really have nothing better to do."

Zoro's eye twitches.

"Good for you."

A long silence follows this and Zoro thinks the waiter finally gave up. That was until...

"Are you still mad about the rice balls?"

"Oh my god!" Zoro nearly slams a pile of dishes onto the floor. He turns to Sanji, who is just casually smoking at the table, and stomps over to him. Once he was right in front of him, Zoro snarls at him, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Talk about those damn rice balls one more time, I'm gonna chop your head clean off for them to use in tomorrow's ramen stock."

Sanji blinks, then turns his head to the side to blow smoke away from Zoro. Zoro tries to convince himself that he isn't staring at the way Sanji's lips purse around the cigarette in the process.

"I can still make you the rice balls," Sanji says without a single ounce of fear in his body. "I just couldn't do it while the old man was around." He then stands up and steps around Zoro with a practiced grace. "Are you willing to wait ten minutes?"

"I'm not hungry," Zoro hisses but his stomach betrays him with a loud grumble. He's been washing dishes for so many hours. He probably missed dinner.

Then, as Zoro straightens his posture, Sanji does it again — he smiles and Zoro doesn't know what to do.

"Sit." Sanji gently nudges a chair out with his foot. It lands perfectly in front of Zoro at a perpendicular angle. "I'll have them out in five."

"You said ten minutes." Zoro found himself saying, only to be contradictory. Sanji laughs this time and the resulting smile pierces Zoro's heart with a million cursed swords.

"When someone's hungry, I feed them." Sanji says simply and that's the statement that ends their conversation. Zoro still refuses to sit on the chair, instead finding himself gravitating towards the counter that Sanji was preparing his ingredients at and leaning against the marble.

Before Sanji found them at their table, he brought down a marine and a fearsome pirate with just his feet. Zoro was fascinated by his fighting style even if he didn't want to admit it out loud. But he's always been curious. Especially now, with Sanji whipping out the sharpest knives and using them effortlessly as Zoro would wield the Wado Ichimonji.

"You're good with knives," Zoro says before he could stop himself. Sanji chuckles.

"Of course, I am. I'm a chef. Best one in the East Blue."

"What's a chef doing waiting tables, then?"

"Cause I was kicked off the line this morning. It's a weekly occurrence, nothing special." The way Sanji scrapes his ingredients into a bowl betrayed how he felt about it despite his nonchalance. "I can cook better dishes than everyone in this damn kitchen but Zeff refuses to acknowledge that. It's always 'your food is crap', 'slice those carrots thinner', or 'needs more fucking oregano—"

Sanji throws the knife onto the cutting board, its tip now embedded neatly straight down the middle. It stood perfectly still, like it was afraid of what Sanji could do if he added more pressure. Zoro raised an eyebrow, looking up at the now irritated cook with a smirk.

"Sorry," Sanji mumbles, taking the knife and cleaning it carefully with a cloth. Zoro says nothing. He just props his elbow on the counter and places his chin into his hand as he watches Sanji in his element. Eventually, it's down to just shaping the rice balls with his hands and Zoro asks the question that poked at his mind during Sanji's mini outburst.

"If you're so dissatisfied cooking here why don't you just leave?"

Sanji pauses. His head is down, his blonde fringe obscuring one eye as his fingers twitch against the rice ball.

"It's not about that."

"Yeah?" Zoro leans as close as he could get with the counter between them. Sanji still refuses to look up. "A hot-headed cook who claims to be the best in the East Blue settling down here — where he is not head chef — is as contradictory as it gets."

"You don't know–" Sanji snaps but stops himself immediately. He looks up to glare at Zoro through narrowed eyes. "You don't know why I still stay."

"Enlighten me then, cook." Zoro leans his hip against the counter. "Because really, someone as good as you claim to be has got to have some ambitions. Dreams." Zoro holds the man's gaze. "Do you hate the old man?"

"No!" Sanji counters immediately. "The man fucking raised me. I owe him my goddamn life!"

"Owing him your life isn't the same as giving up your life to work at a restaurant that barely lets you cook."

"You don't know shit!" Sanji nearly slams his fist down on the counter, pointing a finger at Zoro with his face beet red. "This restaurant was his dream—"

"But is it your dream?"

Silence. Total utter silence.

Where color is nothing but a dark void of black and grey, a sea of blue greets him from the pages. Vivid pink skies and tangerine mangroves burst to life. All types of fish swim in his mind's eye but if he reaches out to touch them, it certainly should be real. A phantom breeze kisses his cheeks and water laps at his feet. He's drowning but he swims in delight. He's falling but he feels the clouds cushion him with warmth.

There is a vast ocean out there, one that contains delicacies and species from all four seas. Creatures of every kind, spices that have never been tasted.

The All Blue.

In Sanji's world of black and white — he strives to find the one place that's in screaming color.

There are tears in Sanji's eyes before Zoro could comprehend what was going on. But he wipes them away before he can get a good look at him. The kitchen was quiet around them. The only sound peeking through was the faint music from the bar outside. Though Zoro's heartbeat was louder in his ears than his own breathing.

But he could hear each footstep Sanji takes, the scrape of the plate as it's pushed in Zoro's direction, and the click click of Sanji's lighter as he helps himself to another cigarette. Zoro looks down and sees the rice balls presented in front of him — three heaping helpings, all coated in a different topping, all different flavors.

Zoro takes one.

And it's the best rice ball he's ever had in his life.

"I have a dream," Sanji murmurs, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. One glance and Zoro could see that whatever his dream is... it still burns like molten lava in the heart of this chef. "I'd just rather give up on it than die searching for mine."

Zoro swallows, turns around, and takes the cigarette from Sanji. The ashes fall into his palm, its embers dimming as he squishes it between his fingers.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Zoro says, looking up to make eye contact with Sanji. He can see it almost immediately — the longing for something that seems near impossible to achieve, the acceptance that it's hopeless — but Zoro sees it, clear as day, that the flickering flame of hope still shines in Sanji's eyes. That he's just waiting for his sign to let it once again consume his soul in a roaring fire, brighter than even the sun could be.

Zoro wants to see him shine.

"Come meet my captain," Zoro instinctively wraps his hand around Sanji's wrist. Surprisingly, Sanji doesn't pull back. "I think he'd really like to get to know you."

Sanji doesn't protest.

Zoro takes the rice balls to go.

Never waste food.

#niki's fics: debt and doing dishes #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #opla #zosan #one piece live action #nami #ussop #monkey d luffy #MY GUYS IT GOT SO LONG I THINK THERE NEEDS TO BE A PART THREE #roronoa zoro x vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #fic series: it all started with a dirty rice ball

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